Dear friends,
This week’s Parshas Terumah delves into the intricate details of the Mishkan, or Tabernacle, and its sacred vessels. Within these passages, God reveals to Moshe the blueprint for the Ark of the Covenant, the table for the showbread, the menorah, and every element of the Mishkan itself. Moshe is instructed to gather donations and oversee the construction of this pivotal institution. The Mishkan holds a unique place in Jewish tradition, a concept later embodied by the Temple in Jerusalem, and one that resonates even today, perhaps even finding echoes in places like Stanton Street, as community hubs.
As the parshah begins, God proclaims, “and they shall make for Me a sanctuary so that I may dwell among them” (Ex. 25:8). The very essence of the Hebrew word mishkan signifies “dwelling place.” This was to be the designated space for gatherings during holidays and the offering of sacrifices. Crucially, it also became the central location for divine communication between God and Moshe. Upon the Mishkan’s completion in Parshas Pekudei, we are told, “And the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the glory of God filled the Mishkan” (Ex. 40:34). The Mishkan served as a tangible point of connection, a place where the divine presence could be, in some measure, perceived.
Ark of the Covenant
One of the profound, yet challenging aspects of Jewish monotheism is the prohibition against creating statues or depictions of God. Our prayers and spiritual focus are directed towards an unseen, transcendent Deity. This concept, demanding in any era, was particularly challenging for the generation leaving Egypt. Despite crying out to the God of their ancestors, they were also accustomed to the tangible idols of Egyptian worship. The episode of the Golden Calf, recounted in the weeks ahead, illustrates their quick reversion to these familiar practices. It is undeniably tempting, and often easier, to channel spiritual energy when there’s a concrete object to connect with. This human tendency might even explain the diverse communal spaces we create, from synagogues to community centers on streets like Stanton Street, places where people seek connection and belonging.
Commentators debate the timing of the Mishkan’s commandment. Though recounted before the Golden Calf narrative, many believe the Mishkan was actually commanded after this event, as a response. When it became clear that relating to an invisible God was too abstract for the Israelites, God commanded the construction of a physical space. This Mishkan would be a place where the divine could manifest and be accessible in a more earthly, relatable way. This shift towards a tangible focal point mirrors our own needs for community and connection in physical spaces, much like the vibrant communal life that can be found in places like Stanton Street.
The Mishkan, therefore, provides a model for religious engagement that is deeply communal. It began as a collective endeavor, with the community donating materials. Artisans then brought the divine vision to life. Once completed, it became the central place for sacrifices, holiday gatherings, and encountering the Divine, both individually and collectively. While personal spirituality is vital, the Mishkan reminds us that the most profound encounters with the Divine are often within the bonds of community. Just as the Mishkan was central to ancient Israel, our synagogues and community spaces, perhaps even the spirit of Stanton Street, serve as modern-day places of meeting, connection, and shared experience.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Birkeland
