Carve two tablets of stone like the first and I will inscribe upon the tablets the words that were on the first tablets, which you shattered. (Exodus 34:1)

This mysterious painting has confounded Rembrandt scholars. There are those who contend that Moses is holding the tablets just prior to smashing them before the eyes of the nation. Others argue that Rembrandt has portrayed the second descent of Moses on his way to bring the new set of tablets to the children of Israel. The angle of the tablets might imply the former position. Moses was instructed to descend the mountain with the tablets and break them in full view. But consider the expression on Moses’ face. He does not appear enraged. His contemplative gaze would seem to imply that he is battle weary and lost in thought. It is far more likely that Moses has is on his way down the mountain to deliver the second set of tablets to the people in accordance with the command of God: ‘Carve two tablets of stone like the first and I will inscribe upon the tablets the words that were on the first tablets which you shattered.’

While still on the mountain, Moses was informed by the Almighty of the ultimate breach; the sin of the golden calf.

The Lord spoke to Moses; Hurry down, for your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt, have acted basely. They have been quick to turn aside from the way that I enjoined upon them. They have made themselves a molten calf and bowed low to it and sacrificed to it saying: This is your god O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt. (Exodus 32:7)

Moses could simply have left the tablets on high and descended to deal with the iniquitous people. Instead he chose to bring down the tablets and smash them before their very eyes, impressing upon them enormity of their loss.

This dramatic act could have been the final chapter in the love affair between the children of Israel and their ancestral God. How fitting a finale for the sinners of Israel to be left with nothing more than shattered tablets; a painful reminder of the covenant which they had broken. But the story does not end there. Astonishingly, God commanded Moses to prepare a second set of tablets like the first and deliver them to the people.

The phraseology is curious; a second set of tablets like the first? How might there ever be tablets like the first? How could the experience of Sinai be re-created by Moses after the children of Israel had spurned God and His Torah? No instant replay could be possible, given how low they had plummeted.

Recollecting the scene of idolatry and debauchery, Moses, no doubt, wondered about the efficacy of his role as the lawgiver and the likelihood of relevance of the commandments themselves.

Midrash HaGadol suggests that the second set of tablets were not the same as the first; quite the contrary. They were far greater because they came down to a different people. The first time Moses found the people engaged in idolatry and frivolity, and the second time they were penitent and remorseful.

At that critical juncture, the nation of Israel understood that exalted moments in life are fleeting; they pass us by like shadows. With that realization it became clear that not only the tablets were broken but the people of Israel were crushed; their hearts were shattered within them.

One can only imagine the sobriety of that moment; the depth of despair their sudden recognition of loss of potential. They must have achieved the profound insight into the condition of their empty lives in pursuit of vanity, which had replaced the true covenant. And despite it all, God was prepared to forgive, to begin again. Carve two tablets like the first, affording them the opportunity to begin again, rebuild their relationship with God, and mend their broken hearts.

1. Midrash HaGadol is a rabbinic commentary on the Pentateuch emanating from Yemen. It consists of excerpts from older rabbinic texts from the talmudic period. It was printed for the first time in the 13th century.