Post by Rabbi Neil on Mar 10, 2020 14:00:25 GMT
“Where is the dwelling of God?” This was the question with which Rabbi Mendel of Kotzk surprised a number of learned people who happened to be visiting him. They laughed at him: “What a thing to ask! Is not the whole world full of God’s glory?!” Then he answered his own question: “God dwells wherever we let God in.” (Martin Buber, Tales of the Hasidim: The Later Masters [New York: Schocken Books, 1961], p. 277)
If either answer presented in this story is correct – either that God is everywhere or that God is everywhere we let God in – why do the Israelites build a Tabernacle in this week’s Torah portion? In Terumah, God says of the Israelites “Let them make for Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them” (Ex. 25:8). Does this mean that Rabbi Mendel of Kotzk only has the answer partially correct – that we can let God in to dwell among us only one we have built a Sanctuary for God? The 19th century Bible commentator, Malbim, comments on our verse that : “It says (Ex. 25:8), ‘Let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among [or: within] them’ — in them, the people, not in it, the sanctuary.” (The Torah: A Modern Commentary, rev. ed., p. 557) Why can’t God therefore just dwell among or within the people without them first creating a building? Moreover, why create such a ridiculously ornate building that involves insane amounts of riches from gold and silver to fine cloths?
The 20th century commentator, Umberto Cassuto¸ says that when the people left Mount Sinai, they were fearful that their connection to God might fade, so they needed an assurance that God would always be with them (A Commentary on the Book of Exodus [Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1951], p. 319). Essentially, their experience of God had become so tied to place – in this case, the mountain – that it was all but impossible for them to separate that experience. That, of course, explains the people’s need for the Golden Calf, a physical representation of Divinity to help a people who struggle with the concept of the enormity of God. Rabbi Mordechai Katz says something very similar – that the Tabernacle exists as a symbol of God’s Presence (Lilmod Ul’lamade: From the Teachings of Our Sages [New York: Jewish Education Program Publications, 1978], p. 87). But that comparison draws out another problem, which is that the Tabernacle essentially becomes an idol. Samson Raphael Hirsch (The Pentateuch [London: L. Honig and Sons, 1959], p. 306) explains that it’s not a symbol of God, though, but of the covenantal relationship that the people have with God. The Tabernacle is a symbol of a relationship, it is not an expression of one of the parties in the relationship, as the Golden Calf clearly was.
We usually think of the Tabernacle as a building whose construction was commanded in order to demonstrates God’s presence on Earth. We read a causal relationship – building a Tabernacle leads to God dwelling among the people. Our focus is usually on the Tabernacle that is being built though, and not on the act of building itself. That is not a position supported by our tradition. For example, the 13th century Spanish commentator Nachmanides says that while most of the commandments regarding the construction of the Tabernacle are in the singular form, when it comes to the Ark of the Covenant specifically, the plural form is used. Of this, Midrash (Tanchuma, Vayakhel 8:1) says that “the Holy Blessed One commanded all the Israelites to make it, so that not one of them would be able to humiliate a fellow Israelite by saying: ‘I contributed more for the building of the ark than you, therefore I am more learned and have a greater right to it than you do. And since you contributed little to the ark, you will have no portion in the Torah’” The building of the Tabernacle, and specifically of the Ark, is the great equalizer. Only once all the people have contributed have they truly let God in, and therefore only then can God dwell among them.
So, it’s not the Tabernacle itself that’s important – it’s not an idol to represent God or something divine, and it’s not a physical representation of a people who cannot understand what it is to worship God without something physical. Instead, it’s a means of social organization, a means of involving the people in the tasking of building a spiritual community. It is interesting, though, that once the Tabernacle is built, the people go off the rails spiritually, culminating in the decree that they must wonder in the desert for forty years until all but a few of them die out before entering the land. It’s almost as if finishing the Tabernacle was a problem for the Israelites. Perhaps that is because the Israelites started to think of gifts to God only as physical things, instead of gifts of the soul. Once the Tabernacle is established, their physical gifts to God continue in the form of sin offerings, guilt offerings and so on. Again, continuing the idea that the Tabernacle is the great equalizer, every offering was determined according to the wealth of the person giving it – the more you have, the more you donate. Sadly, though, there’s a limit to the Tabernacle, and to the Ark, being the great equalizer, and that limit is gender. The men provide the raw materials and the building, the women provide the ornate coverings. Of course, that doesn’t have to be problematic in and of itself – there is much commentary about the meaning of all the specific ornaments that it's clear that they’re not secondary to the beams and major construction elements. Nonetheless, while differing responsibilities based on different levels of wealth is moral, differing responsibilities based on gender is not. The two individuals who are consulted over the building of the Tabernacle – Bezalel and Oholiav – are both men. That also seems problematic to me, not just as a woman but as a woman who over a decade ago won a UK-wide competition at IKEA for speed-building of a piece of furniture!
The essence of the building of the Tabernacle in this week’s Torah portion is kavannah – intention. If the intention is good, then God may dwell among us. Instead of limiting individual kavannah based on gender, we need to ensure that everyone can give to community. For some that will mean physical gifts, for some it will mean gifts of time, others gifts of finances, others gifts of their own presence… because our own presence can be a gift in and of itself. So often, we talk in Judaism about sacred time and sacred space. The building of the Tabernacle is, in fact, neither of these things – it is, instead, about sacred intention, about sacred being. The Divine dwells among us in sacred space and at sacred times but only if we let God in - if our intention, if our being, is sacred, too.
This Shabbat, and this week, let us work not just on building and maintaining a physical community, but also a deeply spiritual one. May our intention be directed towards helping the Divine dwell among us and in so doing, may the Divine Presence dwell among us. And let us say, Amen.
If either answer presented in this story is correct – either that God is everywhere or that God is everywhere we let God in – why do the Israelites build a Tabernacle in this week’s Torah portion? In Terumah, God says of the Israelites “Let them make for Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them” (Ex. 25:8). Does this mean that Rabbi Mendel of Kotzk only has the answer partially correct – that we can let God in to dwell among us only one we have built a Sanctuary for God? The 19th century Bible commentator, Malbim, comments on our verse that : “It says (Ex. 25:8), ‘Let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among [or: within] them’ — in them, the people, not in it, the sanctuary.” (The Torah: A Modern Commentary, rev. ed., p. 557) Why can’t God therefore just dwell among or within the people without them first creating a building? Moreover, why create such a ridiculously ornate building that involves insane amounts of riches from gold and silver to fine cloths?
The 20th century commentator, Umberto Cassuto¸ says that when the people left Mount Sinai, they were fearful that their connection to God might fade, so they needed an assurance that God would always be with them (A Commentary on the Book of Exodus [Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1951], p. 319). Essentially, their experience of God had become so tied to place – in this case, the mountain – that it was all but impossible for them to separate that experience. That, of course, explains the people’s need for the Golden Calf, a physical representation of Divinity to help a people who struggle with the concept of the enormity of God. Rabbi Mordechai Katz says something very similar – that the Tabernacle exists as a symbol of God’s Presence (Lilmod Ul’lamade: From the Teachings of Our Sages [New York: Jewish Education Program Publications, 1978], p. 87). But that comparison draws out another problem, which is that the Tabernacle essentially becomes an idol. Samson Raphael Hirsch (The Pentateuch [London: L. Honig and Sons, 1959], p. 306) explains that it’s not a symbol of God, though, but of the covenantal relationship that the people have with God. The Tabernacle is a symbol of a relationship, it is not an expression of one of the parties in the relationship, as the Golden Calf clearly was.
We usually think of the Tabernacle as a building whose construction was commanded in order to demonstrates God’s presence on Earth. We read a causal relationship – building a Tabernacle leads to God dwelling among the people. Our focus is usually on the Tabernacle that is being built though, and not on the act of building itself. That is not a position supported by our tradition. For example, the 13th century Spanish commentator Nachmanides says that while most of the commandments regarding the construction of the Tabernacle are in the singular form, when it comes to the Ark of the Covenant specifically, the plural form is used. Of this, Midrash (Tanchuma, Vayakhel 8:1) says that “the Holy Blessed One commanded all the Israelites to make it, so that not one of them would be able to humiliate a fellow Israelite by saying: ‘I contributed more for the building of the ark than you, therefore I am more learned and have a greater right to it than you do. And since you contributed little to the ark, you will have no portion in the Torah’” The building of the Tabernacle, and specifically of the Ark, is the great equalizer. Only once all the people have contributed have they truly let God in, and therefore only then can God dwell among them.
So, it’s not the Tabernacle itself that’s important – it’s not an idol to represent God or something divine, and it’s not a physical representation of a people who cannot understand what it is to worship God without something physical. Instead, it’s a means of social organization, a means of involving the people in the tasking of building a spiritual community. It is interesting, though, that once the Tabernacle is built, the people go off the rails spiritually, culminating in the decree that they must wonder in the desert for forty years until all but a few of them die out before entering the land. It’s almost as if finishing the Tabernacle was a problem for the Israelites. Perhaps that is because the Israelites started to think of gifts to God only as physical things, instead of gifts of the soul. Once the Tabernacle is established, their physical gifts to God continue in the form of sin offerings, guilt offerings and so on. Again, continuing the idea that the Tabernacle is the great equalizer, every offering was determined according to the wealth of the person giving it – the more you have, the more you donate. Sadly, though, there’s a limit to the Tabernacle, and to the Ark, being the great equalizer, and that limit is gender. The men provide the raw materials and the building, the women provide the ornate coverings. Of course, that doesn’t have to be problematic in and of itself – there is much commentary about the meaning of all the specific ornaments that it's clear that they’re not secondary to the beams and major construction elements. Nonetheless, while differing responsibilities based on different levels of wealth is moral, differing responsibilities based on gender is not. The two individuals who are consulted over the building of the Tabernacle – Bezalel and Oholiav – are both men. That also seems problematic to me, not just as a woman but as a woman who over a decade ago won a UK-wide competition at IKEA for speed-building of a piece of furniture!
The essence of the building of the Tabernacle in this week’s Torah portion is kavannah – intention. If the intention is good, then God may dwell among us. Instead of limiting individual kavannah based on gender, we need to ensure that everyone can give to community. For some that will mean physical gifts, for some it will mean gifts of time, others gifts of finances, others gifts of their own presence… because our own presence can be a gift in and of itself. So often, we talk in Judaism about sacred time and sacred space. The building of the Tabernacle is, in fact, neither of these things – it is, instead, about sacred intention, about sacred being. The Divine dwells among us in sacred space and at sacred times but only if we let God in - if our intention, if our being, is sacred, too.
This Shabbat, and this week, let us work not just on building and maintaining a physical community, but also a deeply spiritual one. May our intention be directed towards helping the Divine dwell among us and in so doing, may the Divine Presence dwell among us. And let us say, Amen.
