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| A Replica of the Mishkan According to the Torah |
When I was young, my parents belonged to a medium-sized Conservative
shule. With an attached afternoon
religious school, which I attended, and an in-house day school which I did
not. It wasn’t the largest nor the most
opulent shule on Miami Beach, but it was nice enough. I remember feeling a sense of holiness when I
attended services, between the décor and the cantor and the choir.
Not long after I
graduated from high school, I had a girlfriend who was religious. She liked to go on occasion to a youth
congregation that met in one of the extra rooms in another shule. At first, the idea of attending a service in
a classroom seemed funny. But despite
the more austere surroundings, the service left me feeling just as uplifted as
the one in the main sanctuary.
When I was in the
military, we often held services in makeshift sanctuaries. There were the exceptions. Such as my three years at the Air Force
Academy where the dedicated Jewish chapel was beautiful and had museum-quality décor. And my time in Ramstein, Germany, where my Muslim
colleague and I actually built a dedicated chapel for our two communities. Many of my own ideas went into the design of
the building and the furnishings. But
the rest of those years, we were as likely to meet in a conference room or a
social hall.
After I retired from
the Air Force, I led a small congregation using quarters that had been purchased
from a Baptist church whose ageing and shrinking congregation decided to
disband themselves. It wasn’t bad; my
biggest complaint was that the design of the bimah put me too far above and
away from my congregation. When I
offered my drash, I would often step down off the bimah and speak without notes
whilst standing amongst the people.
Then there was
Temple Shalom, here on the Gold Coast. A
nice enough small sanctuary. But one
Saturday morning, the intrusion alarm was tripped and we couldn’t get the
technician to come out to reset it before the service. Because the alarm was loud in the sanctuary
but barely audible in the social hall, we made a snap decision to set up and do
the service there. Several people told
me after the service, that it was the nicest, most spiritual service they
remembered attending.
Since we started
Jewish Journeys we’ve held services in my living room. A community center classroom. And here in the Country Women’s Association
hall. All makeshift sanctuaries, with a
minimum of what one expects to see in a shule.
I’ve never felt that we were missing anything by not having a dedicated
space. I’ve thought that it was the
mindset and mutual regard of those joining together to be a congregation, not
the physical surroundings, that make the sacred space.
Given this experience,
I struggle with this week’s Torah reading, Terumah. As our parashah opens, Hashem tells Moses to have
the people Israel bring gifts of various materials. Precious metals. Fine textiles. Animal skins.
Timbers. Precious and
semi-precious stones. The purpose of all
these gifts? Chapter 25, verse 8
explains: Let them build me a
sanctuary that I may dwell among them.
The materials are necessary
for the construction of the Mishkan, the place where Hashem and the
people will meet. The exacting
instructions on how to build it are given. It is not only to be opulent materially;
it is also to a very specific design. The
Torah tells us that all of this is necessary if Hashem is to dwell among us. We must have a place holy enough for the nexus
between man and G-d.
So every year I read
these verses and am conflicted. I know
what the Torah says. Yet my experience
tells me that the specifications of the sanctuary – even the fact that it is
a dedicated sanctuary – is extraneous. Or even gets in the way.
There are those
hearing, or reading these words who disagree with me. They tell me that it enhances their
experience, uplifts them, if they are surrounded by the symbols and accoutrements
that they expect in their shule. And
they tell me that they cannot be uplifted in a classroom, a meeting room, or
someone’s living room. If your own
sensibilities run in that direction, I’m not here to call you a liar. But in my very varied experience, as I’ve just
recounted, it has been otherwise.
If you do agree with
me, then how are we to understand the Torah’s words? They can be understood a number of ways, but
I think the key is intentionality, or kavvanah in Hebrew. The passage tells us that the Mishkan and
G-d’s dwelling among us won’t just ‘happen.’
We must take specific steps to make it so. The steps to be followed by the people Israel
in the wilderness, include the gathering of specific materials and constructing
the sanctuary to a specific design. But
for us, the equivalent might be to express that same degree of intentionality
in the way that we ‘construct’ a place within ourselves for worshipping G-d. To set aside the cares of everyday life for
an hour. To look at the Jews and others around
us, and transcend any negative feelings about them we may harbour. To suspend our skepticism, and our cynicism,
even if just for an hour. To forget the
pride of intellect and find a place within ourselves where we focus on the
eternal. It doesn’t happen just because
we step into some place, dedicated or temporary. It happens because we find space within
ourselves, when we push aside our egos for just a bit, when we focus on G-d. With intentionality, kavvanah.
No, I won’t call you
a liar if you tell me you need the ‘right’ physical surroundings to achieve
that. But I can tell you of many times
when I have been in beautiful sanctuaries and could not focus on G-d because
people were sitting and gossiping. Or
hating others. Making it all about
themselves. I have been in the most
aesthetically pleasing surroundings where the human spirit hampered the
worship. And in the most utilitarian quarters
where the worship flowed like water.
The Mishkan didn’t
just happen. It required a lot of
investment and a lot of work to make a fitting place for Hashem to dwell
amongst His people. It also doesn’t just
happen for us. It requires investment
and work to make a fitting place. But
sometimes, that investment and work is of a different sort. It’s something to think about. Shabbat shalom.
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