Insights into Exodus

Rabbi Yosef Edelstein
of the
Savannah Kollel

Terumah
(February 28, 1998)

This issue is dedicated to the refuah sh'lemah, the full and speedy recovery, of Freyda Liba bas Minnah.

Being homeless must be awful. Aside from the considerable physical discomfort involved, it is demoralizing: no place to call one's own, no special haven where one can rest from the trials of life, no central locale in which to express one's individuality and perform kindness for others. Is it any wonder that our Sages counted a pleasant home among those things in life which "expand the consciousness of a man?" 

This is true with regard to a person. But can the same thing be said about G-d? Does He, too, need a home? Not really, you'll say: He lacks nothing, and is not diminished if He is without a "central locale" on earth. Makes sense. Or you might say the whole earth is Hashem's home, or, perhaps, the heavens. Both reasonable answers.

In this week's parsha, however, the One who lacks nothing reveals that He nonetheless desires to have a special home on earth, among His chosen people: "And they shall make a sanctuary (mikdash) for Me, so that I may dwell among them." (25, 8; Artscroll Chumash, p. 445) This is the commandment to build the Tabernacle, or Mishkan, the "miniature Temple" that the Children of Israel transported with them during their wanderings in the desert.

The Mishkan was the physical and spiritual center of their encampment, lovingly constructed according to divine specifications from materials--gold, silver, copper, wood, colored wool, and more--freely given by the Jewish people; it was the site of the Altar, where individuals seeking greater closeness to G-d brought offerings; and of the Tent ofMeeting, over which G-d's Cloud of Glory hovered, and where Moshe heard the "voice" of the Almighty address him from between the wings of the golden cherubim on the cover of the holy Ark (aron).
And that very Ark contained the Tablets of the Law given to Moshe at Sinai, testimony of our people's special relationship with G-d and unique mission on earth.

The beauty and mystery of the Mishkan have inspired wonderment in students of the Torah throughout the ages; our great commentators have filled countless pages analyzing each of its sacred vessels. The Kabbalists have explained that the Mishkan is a microcosm of the universe, reflecting "the universal source from which life and blessings emanate to all the spheres of creation." (Rabbi Elie Munk, The Call of the Torah: Volume 2, p. 365) This dea fits well with the rabbinic teaching that Betzalel, the chief architect of the Mishkan, knew the mystical secrets of combining the letters of the aleph-beis--those building blocks of creation which, our Sages say, Hashem used to construct the universe!

Taking a different approach, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, zt'l, has shown that all of the details of the Mishkan's design serve as symbols of eternal truths of our faith which G-d wishes us to internalize: the Shulchan (table), on which the showbreads rested, "represents the material aspects of life which...are subject to constant change;" the Menorah "is made of gold throughout...[and] symbolizes [the] element of constancy and timelessness" in serving Hashem, etc. (Hirsch, Jewish Symbolism, p. 216)

Still others have focused on how the Mishkan was an atonement for the sins of the Jewish people, including the Golden Calf, which though it appears later on in the Book of Exodus, preceded the building of the Mishkan: the gold atoned for the gold used to make the Calf, the silver atoned for the sale of Yosef.

And there are, of course, many other interesting ways of looking at the Mishkan.;

Two questions need to be answered, however, about the very notion of the Jewish people building a Mishkan for Hashem to "dwell in." First, HOW? Second, WHY? How could mere mortals construct an appropriate abode for a Being without limits? And why would G-d want such a strange thing?

Please don't think the first question is silly. According to Midrash Rabbah, Moshe himself asked it:

When Hashem said to Moshe, "Make for me a Mishkan," Moshe was puzzled and said, "The glory of G-d fills the upper worlds and the lower worlds, and He says, 'Make me a Mishkan?!'" And furthermore, Moshe looked [through prophecy] and saw Shlomo (Solomon) building the Beis amikdash which   was larger than the Mishkan, and he [Shlomo] said, "For will G-  indeed dwell on the earth? [behold, the heaven and heaven o  eavens cannot contain thee; how much less this house that I  have built?]" Moshe said, "And if Shlomo said this about the  Beis Hamikdash, which is much bigger than the Mishkan, how much more so is it true of the Mishkan!"

....The Holy One, Blessed be He, said, "The way that you think is not the way that I think; rather, 20 planks on the north side and 20 on the south side [i.e. the length of the Tent of Meeting], and eight on the west side [the width] and no more; I will descend and contract my presence  (shechina) within a space of a cubit by a cubit." How could the Mishkan, a relatively small structure, contain the presence of G-d? Simple!  Hashem "contracted" his presence. (Simple for Hashem, anyway, even though we may not understand how it works.)

On a more down-to-earth level, the Chofetz Chayim quotes a slightly different version of the above Midrash to teach us a very important and useful lesson about the service of G-d. Moshe could not understand how the Infinite could be contained in the finite--a quandary one faces, really, with any mitzvah (commandment) of the Torah, each of which expresses the Will of an Eternal G-d in this temporal world. So G-d tells Moshe, in effect: "Don't get hung up on this problem! You don't understand how it can be pulled off; I think differently, and do understand.  I am not asking the Jewish people to construct a Mishkan according to My strength and ability, only according to their strength and ability: '20 planks in the north and south, eight in the west.' Just follow the details of the mitzvah, and everything will turn out properly." As the Chofetz Chayim puts it, the Midrash is assuring us that G-d does not make impossible demands on His creatures; He doesn't give us anything, be it mitzvah or life challenge, that we can't handle.   Each individual is only expected to do (or understand) according to his or her capacity:  we must serve G-d with all of our strength, but we are not expected to achieve--on our own-- the impossible.

So, really, the answer to the question, "How can G-d be housed in a finite construction?" is: "Don't ask how--just build it as I've commanded." It's beyond our understanding.   As for the second question, one basic and quite beautiful answer is that G-d loves the Jewish people and wants to shower His special blessing and protection on us. So He allowed us to build a Mishkan--and, later, a Temple--and experience His closeness to a much greater degree than the other nations. Hashem's intention was that our collective life, suffused with the holiness made manifest in the Temple, would be a "light unto the nations," and humanity would, ultimately, be transformed. (Munk, quoting the Kabbalists, p. 366)    Well, it hasn't turned out that way exactly, you might say: both of our Temples were destroyed, and we are still languishing in this final exile. HOW and WHY did this happen?

The answer is that G-d never said that He would dwell in our Temples unconditionally, just because we built them, as if they were lightning rods to automatically draw down His presence.   Look at the beginning of Parshas Bechukosai, and you will see that having G-d dwell among us hinges on a very specific condition: 

"If you will follow my decrees and observe My commandments and perform them...Then I will place My Sanctuary among you, and My spirit will not reject you." (Leviticus: 26, 11. Artscroll Chumash, p. 711)  WE have to lead holy lives, and then G-d will allow us to enjoy the extra easure of His   closeness in a Temple. In fact, the true purpose of the Mishkan and the Beis Hamikdash, with their intense holiness, was to motivate us to bring sanctity into our homes and hearts outside of their walls. We weren't supposed to consign kedusha to the Temple Mount any more than we, today, should limit our personal relationship to G-d to a once-a-week (or once-a-year) visit to the synagogue. As Rabbi Hirsch puts it:

"His Presence is not limited to the Temple and its confines...[nor can it] be considered as being exclusively instrumental in bringing about the blesings and protection of G-d's presence. The Temple should rather serve as the inspiration for the mutlifold activities of the nation to consecrate every aspect of Israel's life as a Sanctuary of G-d." (Hirsch, Jewish Symbolism, p.  169; italics mine.) If the proper holiness is absent from "every aspect of Israel's life," then Hashem will absent Himself from the Temple...and it will be destroyed. As it was--twice. The commentaries point out that this very idea is hinted at in the verse from the parsha that we began with: "And they shall make a sanctuary for me, so that I will dwell among them." Dwell among THEM, the verse reads--in the hearts of the Jewish people; not, "dwell in IT"--the mere physical edifice alone.

May Hashem help us to make a home for Him in our hearts. That's our main job. If we do that, then we can be confident that construction of His (final) Home in Jerusalem--the one with the courtyard, the Altar, the Ark--will surely begin.

Good Shabbos!

For Divre Torah from Parshiyot in Genesis

Rabbi Yosef Edelstein, Savannah Kollel. Phone: 355-0157; fax: 354-9923; e-mail address: Yosef18@aol.com

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