Showing posts with label Mishkan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mishkan. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Words, Weaves, and Waves: The Modern Cosmology of the Ancient Mishkan

Everybody knows that God created the world with words. He said, “Let there be light,” and there was light, and so it was with everything else. According to Jewish tradition, God created the world with ten such statements (Rosh Hashanah 32a), but the Talmud challenges this contention. In Genesis we find nine statements of creation, not ten! The Talmud has an intriguing answer. The very first verse, “In the beginning God created heaven and earth,” also counts and that gives us a total of ten. Rashi explains the Talmud’s meaning. In addition to all the recorded statements of creation, God also said, “Let there be heaven.”

What is “heaven”? Heaven (shomayim) can refer to the multitude of spiritual realms created by God, the abode of the angels and the constructs of sefiros and mazalos. Heaven can also refer to the cosmos, the space which holds the physical universe. Either way, heaven is invisible, intangible, and difficult for the human mind to grasp. (Maybe this is why the act of its creation is not explicitly stated by the Torah.) This much is clear: Heaven is not nothingness. Like matter and light, it is an entity created by God.

II

Six days you shall work and perform all your melacha, but the seventh day is Shabbos for Hashem, you shall not perform any kind of melacha… for in six days Hashem made the heavens and the earth, the sea and everything that is in them, and He rested on the seventh day. (Shemos 20:9-11)

When it comes to mitzvos, the Torah does not usually give us reasons, but Shabbos is an exception. The reason we rest on Shabbos was engraved on the tablets: Hashem created the world in six days and rested on the seventh and so we are commanded to do the same, to work for the six days of the week and to rest on the seventh. But this is no ordinary imitatio dei. The thirty-nine categories of work, the melachos of Shabbos, are very same list of labors that went into constructing the Mishkan.

The forty minus one categories of work taught by the Mishnah, what do they correspond with? Rabbi Chaninah Bar Chama said, they correspond with the work of the Mishkan. (Shabbos 49b)

Rashi (ad loc.) explains that the Torah put Shabbos and the Mishkan together to teach us to learn one from the other. We could add that the Torah uses the word melacha for both. The Mishkan thus defines the term for Shabbos.

What is the meaning of this association? Why is Shabbos defined by the Mishkan? The answer is that the Mishkan symbolizes creation; it is an abstract, miniature replica of the entire universe.[1] The Mishkan’s project manager, Betzalel ben Chur, was a great mystic who knew the divine wisdom of weaving Hebrew letters into creative words.[2] The Mishkan’s construction thus not only parallels creation, it is a replay of creation; a second universe, modeled on the first, but built this time by man.[3] This is why Hashem rejoiced on the day of the Mishkan’s inauguration like the day He created heaven and earth (Megillah 10a).  

Now we can appreciate Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch’s explanation of the term melacha:

“You shall not perform any kind of melacha” means “You shall not do not perform any creative work.” Do not carry out your intention on any object; do not make any object the bearer of your idea and purpose. In short: Do not produce or create anything. (The Hirsch Chumash to Shemos ad loc.)

During the six days of the week, man engages in creative work, the thirty-nine basic labors that build up our world. This parallels Gods creation of the universe and it also parallels the construction of the Mishkan. Done right and for the right reasons, our workweek creates a space where the Shechina can enter and feel at home. And then, on Shabbos, we rest from creation itself, just like God. 
     
III

They told Moshe, “The nation is bringing more than enough…” Moshe gave the command and the word was spread in the camp: “Men and women should cease working for the sanctuary collection!” The people stopped bringing [materials]. (Shemos 36:5-6)

The pronouncement to stop bringing materials was made on Shabbos. From here we learn that one may not carry goods from one domain to another on Shabbos (Shabbos 96b). The implication is that it was previously permitted to carry on Shabbos (cf. Tosfos to Shabbos 87b, s.v. a’techumin). This comes as a surprise, especially in light of the fact that the mitzvah of Shabbos was introduced before Sinai, in Marah (cf. Rashi to Shemos 15:25). Why wasn’t carrying included together with all the other laws of Shabbos observance? Why was it delayed until now? Rabbi Yaakov Kamanetzky has a fascinating theory.

They came to Marah and they could not drink the water from Marah for it was bitter… They complained to Moshe, saying, “What shall we drink?” He cried out to Hashem and Hashem showed him a tree. He threw it in the water and the water became sweet. (Shemos 15:24-25).

The miraculous transformation of water from bitter to sweet demonstrated that the universe was created ex nihilo. God created matter and He manipulates it as He wishes. This, explains Reb Yaakov, is why the nation was given the mitzvah of Shabbos in Marah. For in Marah creation was revealed and on Shabbos we acknowledge creation by abstaining from creative acts.

All the prohibited activities of Shabbos are united under this basic principle, with the sole exception of carrying. There is nothing creative about carrying. The other categories of work introduce change, but moving an object from one domain to another does not affect the object, it merely changes its location.[4] This is why carrying was not prohibited in Marah.

However, when we received the command to build a Mishkan, carrying became prohibited. Why? Because the Mishkan broadened our understanding of creation.

When Hashem told Moshe, “Build Me a Mishkan,” he was astonished. [Moshe] said, “Hashem’s glory fills the upper and lower realms, and He says, build Me a sanctuary?! … Hashem responded, “The way you think is not the way I think. [Put] twenty boards on the north side, twenty on the south side and eight on the west side. Moreover, I will come down and constrict my presence to one square cubit. (Shemos Rabba 34:1)

How an infinite God fits in a finite sanctuary is unfathomable even to Moses, but at the very least we see that Creator is not bound by the constraints of space. The Mishkan thus demonstrated that God created not only the spiritual realms, but also "ordinary" physical space. If space is a “something,” it follows that moving an object into a different space affects the object. This, explains Reb Yaakov, is why we do not carry on Shabbos. It was thus a lesson we learned not at Marah, but from the Mishkan.[5]

IV

The historic announcement of the measurement of gravitational waves a few weeks ago raises the possibility of an alternative explanation for the prohibition of carrying on Shabbos.

We know that the Mishkan was a miniature universe, each component corresponding to a different part of creation. The tapestry that served as the Mishkan’s ceiling represented the heavens, as King David said, נוטה שמים כיריעה, “[God] spreads the heavens like a tapestry” (Tehillim 104:2; Shemos Rabba 33:4). This symbolism was further illustrated by the golden clasps that held the two tapestry panels together. “The clasps in the [tapestries’] loops looked like stars in the sky” (Shabbos 99a). Furthermore, the tapestry had two images woven into it; a lion and an eagle (Rashi to Shemos 26:1). The lion is one of the mazalos, a zodiacal constellation through which divine blessings flow and the eagle is king of the birds (Chagigah 13b). The two images thus depict the two meanings of shomayim; the spiritual heaven and the physical sky.

Ever since Einstein expounded the theory of relativity, scientists have compared the reality of space to a fabric, calling it the “fabric of space-time.” (Space and time are united under relativity, time being the fourth dimension.) Maybe not everyone always understood it as such, but the defining principle of modern cosmology was built into the Jewish Tabernacle in the Sinai Desert over three thousand years ago. Space is a tapestry.

The Torah tells us that the tapestries of the Tabernacle were handwoven by women (Shemos 35:25). This is not a piece of random trivia. Women are different from men; they are not obligated to perform time-bound mitzvos. This curious Halachic exemption is an expression of a deeper reality. Although God and His Torah transcend time, God’s sanctity can enter time by the performance of [certain] mitzvos here on earth (Sefas Emes, Bamidbar 631). However, this can only be achieved by beings who live within time and are bound by it (cf. Nefesh HaChaim 1:12). The transcendent nature of women[6] thus weakens their ability to sanctify time and, like the Creator Himself, it makes them uniquely qualified to weave the Mishkan’s tapestries, the [wo]man-made fabric of space-time.

Before the command to build a Mishkan, the Jews knew that that Hashem created the world, but they did not know that He also created physical space, for the Torah is ambiguous on that point. It was fair to assume that space does not need creating; it is just nothingness. However, when the people learned that the Mishkan, the microcosm of the created universe, includes a tapestry representing space, that taught them that space is not nothingness. Space is a fundamental component of creation, an entity comparable to a tapestry.  With that insight came the prohibition of carrying on Shabbos, for now the Jews understood that carrying is a profoundly creative act. Changing an object’s location creates a disturbance in the cosmos, vibrating space-time and violating the day of rest.[7]

Gravitational waves oscillate through space in a particular pattern. When space expands horizontally, it contracts vertically, and when it expands vertically, it contracts horizontally. (The wave is unimaginably miniscule, but is nonetheless real and measurable.) It is like a piece of fabric: when you stretch it in one direction, it gets narrower in the other. Fabrics behave this way because they are woven of weft and warp threads. We cannot say what space-time is made of, but comparing it to a fabric turns out to be the perfect analogy.

One of the thirty-nine prohibited activities on Shabbos is weaving. Which component of the Mishkan required weaving? The tapestries, the symbol of space! “He spreads out the heavens like a tapestry.” A tapestry, indeed! It is fascinating that according to some Talmudic sages, a basic law of hotza’ah, the prohibition of throwing objects in the public domain, is learned from the weaving of the Mishkan’s tapestries (cf. Shabbos 96b).

Until recently, carrying was thought to be the least creative of the prohibited activities of Shabbos.   Now we discover that moving an object makes waves that race across the cosmos at the speed of light. Who knew?

V

Space has great symbolic significance in rabbinic thought. Although we find multiple names for God in Scripture, the sages – amazingly – did not refrain from coining new ones. One of the rabbinic divine names is HaMakom, “The Place,” or “Space.” This is not to say, Heaven forfend, that the sages ascribed divinity to space. Not at all. Just like everything else, space was created by God. Rather, the sages use space to help educate us about the nature of Hashem’s relationship with the universe.

Why did they invent a new name for God and call him “Space”? Because He is the location of the universe. The universe is not His location. (Bereishis Rabba 68)

Rabbi Chaim Volozhiner explains the space analogy.

Despite the fact that physical objects do have their own independent reality, nonetheless, without a space to occupy they simply could not exist. The same can be said about the entire universe. Although [the universe] is perceptible and appears to have an independent reality, God is its “space.” If God’s will did not maintain its existence, the universe would most certainly cease to exist! (Nefesh HaChaim 3:2).

The idea sounds esoteric, however, according to the Rambam, it is the foundational principle of Judaism.

The foundation of the foundations and the pillar of the wisdoms is to know that there exists a first being. He brought all things into existence… If one were to imagine that He does not exist, then nothing else could exist either. (Yesodei HaTorah 1:1-2)

VI

This all takes us to a deeper idea, a basic principle of Kabbalistic thought. (I am out of my depth here and sensitive theological concepts do not belong on a blog. I beg the reader to infer nothing without a careful study of the entire third section of Nefesh HaChaim.)

The idea, irresponsibly abbreviated and inaccurately translated, is that the Infinite God is unaffected by creation. From His perspective, I reiterate, from the perspective of the Infinite, creation is meaningless and the universe simply does not exist. Ein Od Milvado. There isn’t anything else other than Him (Nefesh HaChaim 3:3).

To be frank, this is none of our business. We are strictly and explicitly prohibited from indulging in God’s perspective (see Nefesh HaChaim 3:3,6,8). Kabbalistic secrets may be out of bounds, but the study of subatomic particles is permitted and it too challenges our perception of reality. The deeper we go, the more we realize how tenuous matter is. Atoms are 99.9999999999% empty space. Electrons have more in common with waves than particles, and protons, when you break them down, are hardly more significant. The solidity of matter is a mirage; everything can be reduced to waves and forces governed by equations. In other words, it’s all words. Matter is nothing more than the divine statement which created it, the weavings of Hebrew letters and numbers into words and laws. Matter is no more solid than empty space, but even this feeble reality evaporates into non-existence when gazed upon by the Eyes of God.

There is a second perspective, also legitimate, and that is the perspective of Man. The Torah and the view from earth both confirm that God did create a universe. To our great relief, we do, in fact, exist. Moreover, Hashem relates to us (Nefesh HaChaim 3:5).[8]

When our father Yaakov awoke after spending the night on Mount Moriah, he declared, “this is nothing other than the House of God; this is Heaven’s Gate!” (Bereishis 28:17). Rabbi Chaim Volozhiner takes Yaakov literally. At the border between heaven and earth, site of the future Temple, there really is nothing other than God. Here Yaakov was privy to the higher reality, God’s hidden perspective (Nefesh HaChaim 3:7).

Don’t make the mistake of thinking that such spiritual vision is unique to Yaakov. There is a place where the laws of nature go soft and the human perspective turns transparent: The Holy of Holies.

In the Mishkan, the Holy of Holies measured ten cubits by ten cubits. The Holy Ark sat in the center of the room and the Divine Presence, the Shechina, spoke to Moshe from a point between the two Cherubim which stood on the Ark’s lid. The Ark was two and half cubits wide and a cubit and a half deep, but if you measured from any side of the Ark to the nearest wall, the distance was always the same: five cubits (Yoma 21a). The Ark did not take up any space, because the Ark was not in space. Built by Betzalel, it transcended the universe. The Ark stood in a different dimension, the dimension where “there is nothing other than Him.”

Space is both overrated and underrated. We overrate it when we think it is inflexible and inviolable, and we underrate it when we forget that it was created by God’s first act, depicted by the Mishkan’s curtains, legislated by the laws of Shabbos, and utilized as a divine name. Maybe because space is so basic to our existence we just don’t think about it much. Kind of like God.




[1] Cf. Shemos Rabba 33:4. As such, the Mishkan communicated the notion that God was motivated to create the universe because He “desired” to rest His Shechina in a lower realm (Midrash Tanchuma, Naso 16). However, the Shechina’s ultimate destination is not the Mishkan, but man: “Build Me a Mishkan and I will dwell within you” (Shemos 25:8; Nefesh HaChaim 1:4, author’s note).
[2] “Betzalel knew how to combine the letters which created heaven and earth” (Berachos 55a).
[3] The Mishkan thus parallels the Tablets which also came in two sets, the second of which was fashioned by man (Shemos 34:1; compare 32:16).
[4] Indeed, the rabbis consider carrying an “inferior” prohibition compared to the other thirty-eight categories (Tosfos to Shabbos 2a, s.v. pashat).
[5] Of course, it is permitted to carry items within a single domain. It is also permitted to move and to walk. Nonetheless, the idea of space as a created entity is expressed by observing the legislated Halachos of Hotza’ah.
[6] Adam was created from the earth, whereas Eve was created from Adam.
[7] See note 5.
[8] As much as these two perspectives appear mutually exclusive, they are ultimately united, see Nefesh HaChaim 3:7.

Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Sacred Space

Click below to listen to today's shiur on Parshas Terumah delivered at Gerber & Co. in Century City.

Special thanks to my father, Rabbi Noam Gordon, for his invaluable input. When I say invaluable, I mean invaluable. A big thank you also goes to our esteemed host Selwyn Gerber who came up with the title for the talk and challenged me to explore the contemporary relevance of the Mishkan. 

Friday, February 22, 2008

The Holy Essentials

The flow of the Torah’s thinking in the beginning of this week’s parsha is a bit mysterious. First we are introduced to the chief architect of the Mishkan, the talented Betzalel. The Torah reiterates every component of the Mishkan and instructs Betzalel and his team to put their creative artistry into the creation of each piece. Surprisingly, this is immediately followed by the mitzvah of Shabbat:

But keep My Shabbats. It is a sign between Me and you for all generations, to make you realize that I, God, am making you holy…The Israelites shall thus keep the Shabbat, making it a day of rest for all generations, as an eternal covenant.

Shemot 31:13,16

What does Shabbat have to do with the Mishkan?

This juxtaposition of the Mishkan with Shabbat is not at all coincidental. When the Torah prohibits “work” on Shabbat (31:14,15) it is speaking of exactly the same type of work that was just referred to in the construction of the Mishkan a few verses earlier (Talmud Shabbat 49b). There are two points here. Firstly, the construction of the Mishkan itself must be halted on Shabbat (Rashi to 31:13). Second, the Torah is defining for us the forbidden labors of Shabbat. There were thirty-nine different actions needed to construct the Mishkan and these are the categories of work that we are to rest from on the day of Shabbat (Mishnah Shabbat 7:2).

If we are to understand what Shabbat is about, we need to take a closer look at these thirty-nine labors. They seem to divide neatly into three sets. The first set contains all the actions necessary to produce the natural plant dyes for the Mishkan. It starts from the very beginning: plowing, planting, harvesting, etc. The second set contains all the actions necessary to produce the woven and leather curtains of the Mishkan. This set includes two different processes: the process of creating woolen textiles, and the process of curing hides. In the final set, we have the acts of construction itself: building, transporting materials, hammering, etc. Stated differently, these thirty-nine actions are about the production of food, clothing, and shelter – the essential acts of human survival! This is what we are being told not do on the Shabbat.

What is the significance of the fact that the work that we are to refrain from on the Shabbat is the same as the acts of Mishkan construction? And what is the significance of the fact that these just happen to be the things that people need to do to survive? What is the underlying message here?

The Mishkan is more than just a home for the Divine Presence on Earth; it provides a model for man. If God’s Presence can rest in a building, it must certainly be able to enter the heart of a Jew. As the Malbim (1809-1879) writes, “We should all build a personal sanctuary for the Divine Presence within the halls of our hearts” (commentary to Shemot 25:8). In other words, the Mishkan represents the potential of man. It follows that the construction of the Mishkan symbolizes the spiritual construction of the human self.

Of course, the primary tools a Jew utilizes in the construction of his personal Mishkan are mitzvot. However, we do not build with mitzvot alone. Look at the Mishkan: none of the processes of Mishkan construction are mitzvot – they are just simple acts like plowing and planting. And it is specifically these simple, voluntary acts that cannot be done on Shabbat. In fact, if one of these acts would happen to be a biblical obligation, there would no prohibition to do it on Shabbat! This surprising Halacha is derived from a verse near the end of our parsha:

You may work during the six weekdays, but on the seventh day you must stop. You must stop plowing and reaping.

Shemot 34:21

Why are the examples of plowing and reaping given here? In the Mishnah, Rabbi Yishmael explains our verse with the help of some classical Midrashic-style exegesis:

Rabbi Yishmael said, “Just like plowing is [always] voluntary, so too is the reaping voluntary. This excludes the reaping of the Omer [grain].”

Shevi’it 1:4

Our verse is not just giving examples; it is qualifying the Shabbat prohibition against working. All thirty-nine forbidden labors are only forbidden if they are like plowing – i.e. a perfectly voluntary act. (There is no such thing as an obligation to plow.) If one of the labors should happen to be a mitzvah – like the mitzvah to reap grain for the Omer offering – then it would not be included in the prohibition. (Careful here, this does not give license to drive to Shul or call your mother on Shabbat! It is only an act that the Torah explicitly specifies as an obligation that is permitted – and reaping the Omer is the sole example. Sorry.)

The Torah is underscoring what we already know – it is only “simple,” non-mitzvah acts that are forbidden on Shabbat. But, of course, the thirty-nine labors are not simple at all – they are the acts of Mishkan construction and the work we need to do to survive. The message is clear. Our Mishkan must be built with our non-mitzvah behavior! The Shechina enters man only when all of man’s actions, even the most basic and necessary, are beautiful and holy. If we conduct our “mundane” weekday activities with honesty, decency, and integrity, using the Torah as our guide, we transform ourselves into a sanctuary, a living Mishkan for God.

This is all very nice. However, on Shabbat we do not engage in construction, not the construction of the Mishkan nor the construction of the self. Why not? Because on Shabbat our work is complete and we are complete. Our Mishkan is standing and the Shechina has arrived. Shabbat is not the time to build; Shabbat is the time to celebrate the Shabbat day, appreciate the gift of life and welcome the presence of the Shechina.

But keep My Shabbats. It is a sign between Me and you for all generations, to make you realize that I, God, am making you holy.

Exodus 31:13

Friday, February 8, 2008

A Word Is Worth a Thousand Pictures

In this week's parsha, God commands us to build Him a home, a sanctuary called the Mishkan. What a strange mitzvah! Why on earth does God need a home? Are the desert nights getting cold? The whole idea of a house for God is ridiculous. As the Midrash says, “When God said, 'Build a sanctuary for Me,' Moshe countered, 'But the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain You! (I Kings 8:27)'” (Bamidbar Rabba 12:3).

Rabbi Chaim Volozhner (1749-1821) explains what it’s all about:

God is saying the following: "Let no one make the mistake of thinking that My intent in the construction of the sanctuary is about the physical building itself. Not at all. Rather, you should know that the sole objective of the Mishkan and its furniture is to indicate to you to learn from it and model yourselves after it. Your own behavior should be as wonderful as the Mishkan and its furniture, completely holy and worthy of the Divine Presence." This is the meaning of the verse, "They shall make me a sanctuary and I will dwell among them..." (Shemot 25:8).

Nefesh HaChaim 1:4

The Mishkan is merely a model. When a Jew experienced the power of the Shechina’s presence in the Mishkan, he said to himself, “If God can enter this building, He must certainly be able to enter me.” God is prepared to rest His divine presence within us, but we must first develop ourselves into living sanctuaries. If we build it, He will come.

It would serve us well to take a closer look at how the Mishkan was constructed. If we are to model our own inner sanctuaries after the Mishkan, we obviously need to study the blueprints. Unfortunately, there are none. The Torah provides no diagrams, no illustrations, not even a sketch. The entire Mishkan is described only in words. Many words.

The parsha describes the Mishkan and its furniture in mind-numbing detail. From materials and dimensions to artistic flourishes and color, virtually every aspect of the design is mandated. Intricate tapestries woven with yarn blended from three kinds of wool and one kind of linen; decorative cups, spheres and flowers; cherubs with their wings just so; plated beams and crossbars; silver sockets; golden hooks, the list goes on and on. The parsha is ninety-six verses long (not bad, as parshiot go), but without question, one picture would have saved our people many tons of ink and parchment through the years. As the old adage says, a picture is worth a thousand words. Today, architects and designers use drawings to communicate their ideas. Why does the Torah insist on using words when a simple sketch would do?

You can’t be serious, you say. God speaks; He doesn’t use PowerPoint! However, the truth is, God did use images to communicate the Mishkan’s design. The Torah says as much quite explicitly:

You shall set up the Mishkan in the proper manner, as you were shown on the mountain [of Sinai]…

Shemot 26:30; cf. 25:9,40; 27:8

Now, if God showed Moshe a model of the Mishkan up on Sinai, why wasn’t that image incorporated into the Torah? If that question doesn’t trouble you, this one will: Why bother with all the words at all? After all, when it came down to it, it was the images in Moshe’s head that guided construction, not the Torah’s words.

“It was on the day that Moshe finished erecting the Mishkan…” – Betzalel and Oheliav and all the artisans made the Mishkan (cf. Shemot 36:1), and the Torah credits Moshe?! It is because he devoted himself to observe the forms of every item the way he was shown on Mt. [Sinai], in order to instruct those who constructed it. He didn’t make a mistake on any form.

Rashi to Bamidbar 7:1; Tanchuma 13

If the final arbiter of the Mishkan’s design was not the verses of the Torah, but the image that God showed Moshe on Sinai, why does the Torah even attempt to spell it all out? We have the perfect precedent in the mitzvah of Tefillin. When it comes to Tefillin, the Torah gives us just a few vague words. “Bind it as a sign on your hand and let them be totafot between your eyes” (Devarim 6:8; cf. Shemot 13:9). “Totafot”? What is it made of? What should it look like? The Torah does not say; it relies on the image God showed Moshe on Mt. Sinai, and to this very day, there is no debate about what Tefillin are. Why didn’t the Torah treat the Mishkan the same way? God could have simply said “Build Me a sanctuary” and relied on Moshe to relay the details. Why all the words? Before we can answer this question, we need to take a brief detour.

Everybody knows there are 613 mitzvot in the Torah. Sounds like a lot, but the Gaon of Vilna (R. Eliyahu Kramer, 1720-1797) argues that this popular Talmudic tradition is actually an understatement. Are we to believe that from Bereishit all the way to parshat Bo there are no more than three mitzvot? Some parshiot have none at all. Have they nothing to say?

The Vilna Gaon teaches that every single word of the Torah is actually its own mitzvah. 613 may be the number of primary mitzvot, but each one branches out into many, many more, covering every aspect of life. On some level, all of human behavior can potentially become “mitzvah.” The formula is simple: Whatever you do, if you do it right, you fulfill God’s will. A sensitive reading of the Torah teaches us how.

When the Mishkan’s parts were complete and it was time to put it all together, the Torah stresses how each component was put in place “as God commanded Moshe.” In fact, the Torah repeats that description every step of the way:

“It was in the first month of the second year on the first of the month that the Mishkan was erected. Moshe erected the Mishkan… as G-d had commanded Moshe.
“He brought the Ark into the Mishkan… as God had commanded Moshe.
“He put the Table in the Tent of Meeting… as God had commanded Moshe.
“He placed the Menorah in the Tent of Meeting… as God had commanded Moshe.
“He placed the Gold Altar in the Tent of Meeting… as God had commanded Moshe…”

Shemot 40:17-32

And so on. The Torah is not just being verbose; it is making a critical point. Every single act in the construction of the Mishkan was its own mitzvah. God didn’t just hand them a diagram and say, “Build this.” That would be only one mitzvah. Instead, God spelled out every stage of construction as an independent command, making each act an independent fulfillment of God’s will. Only with a constant stream of mitzvot can God’s sanctuary be built.

People are no different. If we want God’s presence to rest within us, we need to create a space where God can be comfortable. This is the mission of the Jew: to sanctify the mundane, to elevate all of life into mitzvah, and ultimately become a living, breathing Mishkan.

Yes, God does desire a house on earth - a house of flesh and blood.

Friday, March 16, 2007

A Short Term Rental for G-d?

It is certainly a great blessing to study Torah as a child, but there is a down side.

Familiarity is blinding, and sometimes we are oblivious to the most obvious of problems. Fortunately, some people who study Torah all their lives still manage to look at it anew every day. While the question might not have occurred to most of us, the building of the Mishkan in the desert is an anomaly that has long disturbed Biblical commentators.

The Ralbag (1288-1344) asked the question directly:

It would have been appropriate for the mitzvah [of building a sanctuary] to go into effect [when the Jews arrive] at the place that G-d has chosen (i.e., Jerusalem), and not at some random location [in the desert]…
The Torah makes this point in parshat Re’eh, “Now you have not yet come to the resting place and hereditary land that G-d your Lord is giving you. But you shall cross the Jordan… and there will be a site that G-d will choose as the place for His Name to rest there” (Devarim 12:9-11).
Why build a Mishkan in the desert? What’s the rush? Can’t G-d wait until we get to Jerusalem and build the real thing on the Temple Mount? Is a portable, collapsible sanctuary really appropriate for the King of Kings?

R. Yaakov Kaminetzky (d. 1986) asks a related question. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 20b) tells us that upon entry into the land of Israel, the Jews have three responsibilities: To appoint a king, to destroy Amalek and to build a Temple. The Temple is the last item on the list. So why is G-d commanding them to build a Mishkan now?

Last week we mentioned the great chronology debate: What came first – the command to build the Mishkan or the Sin of the Golden Calf? Despite the fact the mitzvah of the Mishkan is the exclusive topic for over two whole parshiot before the Golden Calf appears, Rashi maintains that the Calf was first. This comes as a bit of a surprise; Rashi has a long established career of sticking to the “P’shat,” the straightforward meaning of the text. Why would he change around the order for no apparent reason?

R. Eliyahu Mizrachi (1455-1525) served as chief rabbi of the Ottoman Empire and authored a voluminous supercommentary on Rashi known simply as the “Mizrachi.” He posits a compelling justification for Rashi’s unexpected position.

It is impossible to say that G-d’s command to Moshe to build a Mishkan predated the Golden Calf [as the order of the parshiot would indicate]... If that were true, how would Moshe know if G-d still wanted the Jews to build a Mishkan [after the sin]? … Maybe G-d only agreed to grant them a second set of Tablets… for the purpose of maintaining Judaism. After they converted [at Sinai] and accepted the yoke of Torah and mitzvot G-d could not reject them. Even if the Jews did revert to [pagan] behavior, they would have the same status as Jews who “convert” to Christianity, i.e. they remain completely Jewish as the Talmud states. But to [go so far as to] build the Mishkan [for G-d] to dwell among them – an extra expression of love – that not!
…How could Moshe infer from the fact that G-d pardoned the Jews on Yom Kippur [and spared them from destruction] that the Mishkan project was still on? We must therefore say that G-d first commanded Moshe to construct a Mishkan only after the Sin of the Golden Calf…
The Mizrachi’s answer is so good, those who disagree with Rashi now have some explaining to do. The Ramban, for example, takes the position that the original mitzvah to build a Mishkan predated the Calf – as the text itself would indicate (Ramban to Shemot 35:1). How did Moshe know that G-d was still interested in a sanctuary after the sin? The answer is that if not for the Golden Calf, the Mishkan makes no sense at all.

When G-d first told Moshe about the Mishkan, Moshe was confused. Build a sanctuary out here in the desert? Why? But after the Golden Calf, Moshe understood. Under normal conditions a Mishkan would not be necessary, to say the least. Inappropriate or even disrespectful might be a more accurate description. However, aware that a Golden Calf was in the cards, G-d arranged for a Mishkan. It’s function? To let the people know that G-d loves them even after they sin.

“The Mishkan of Testimony” (Shemot 38:21) – A testimony to the Israelites that G-d had pardoned them for the Sin of the Golden Calf. After all, now His Shechinah was resting in their midst!

Rashi to 38:21

After the Golden Calf, G-d throws propriety to the wind and just moves right in. Forget Jerusalem, says G-d. I want to be with you today.

Friday, March 9, 2007

Building on Golden Ash

After choosing His people at the Exodus and marrying them at Sinai, G-d is ready to move in. The Jews were planning a magnificent terrestrial palace for their king right in the center of the community, but this week the construction schedule is postponed indefinitely. No, it’s not bad weather or a union strike. In Ki Tisa, the Jews build a Golden Calf.

It’s a long, sad story. In the aftermath of this sin, the Tablets are smashed, a brother against brother purge leaves thousands dead, and the nation is nearly annihilated by a plague of G-d’s wrath. In the end, with the help of Moshe’s prayers, G-d forgives. He grants the nation a second set of Tablets and He agrees to return to dwell amongst His people. After an eighty-day hiatus, the construction of the Mishkan moves forward.

That’s the story in a nutshell, but there is an important Midrashic teaching that must not be forgotten. Although the mitzvah to build the Mishkan was commanded before the sin of the Golden Calf, the Mishkan functions as an atonement for it. “Let the gold of the Mishkan come and atone for the gold of the calf” (Midrash Tanchuma 8). In this view, the Mishkan is not merely a sanctuary for G-d, but it is the medium which enables G-d’s presence to return after the Golden Calf fiasco.

Rashi (cf. 31:18, 33:11) takes things one-step further. Evoking the principle that Torah events are not necessarily organized in chronological order, Rashi is of the opinion that the mitzvah to build a Mishkan was actually first presented after the Golden Calf – apparently in reaction to the sin. (The question of which came first, the calf or the Mishkan, is an old debate recorded in many Midrashim.)

“Let the gold of the Mishkan come and atone for the gold of the calf.” This is a fascinating concept. The idea is that a mitzvah to donate gold in the service of G-d will rectify the donating of gold for sin. This might explain why donations for the Mishkan were not mandatory (cf. Shemot 25:2). Only a voluntary donation for a holy purpose could function to counterbalance the voluntary donations for the idolatrous calf. There was, however, one mandatory collection for the Mishkan and it appears at the beginning of this week’s parsha. It’s the collection of a silver half Shekel. This mitzvah is presented in a most mysterious way, as if the half Shekel somehow provides divine protection and atonement. Let’s read the verses carefully.
G-d said to Moshe saying, “When you take a census of the Israelites to determine their numbers, every man shall give G-d an atonement for his soul when counting them, so that there will not be a plague among them when counting them. Everyone included in the census must give a half Shekel… The rich may not give more and the poor may not give less…
You shall take the silver of the atonements from the Israelites and give it for the work of the Mishkan. It will thus be a remembrance for the Israelites before G-d to atone for your souls.
Shemot 30:11-13,15-16
This is the first time we have a mitzvah to count the Jews. It works like this: Instead of counting the people directly, a half Shekel coin is taken from each person – the rich can’t give more and the poor can’t give less – and then the coins are counted.

What is the meaning of this mitzvah? Since when do the minutia of good government become Biblical commands? What are we atoning for? And what is this business about a plague? There is something else going on here and Rashi tells us what it is:

These verses teach us that [the Jews] were commanded to take this census when the collection for the Mishkan began after the sin of the Golden Calf. This is because a plague had started, as the verse states, “Then G-d struck the people with a plague because they had made the calf…” (Shemot 32:35).
The analogy is to a flock of sheep, beloved by its owner, which is hit by a plague. When it is over, the owner makes a request of his shepherd. “Please count my sheep and learn how many are left.” This [request] reveals his love.

It’s not about the number. G-d does not need us to tell Him how many Jews there are. What G-d wants is for us to understand that He loves every single Jew – even after the sin of the Golden Calf.

What do we do with all the money? Well, the verse tells us to use it for the Mishkan. “You shall take the silver of the atonements from the Israelites and give it for the work of the Mishkan” (ibid). But the Talmud (Megillah 29b) is more specific. The Talmud tells us that these half Shekel coins were melted down and forged into the silver bases which supported the Mishkan’s walls (cf. Shemot 26:19).

The census after the Golden Calf, which served to express G-d’s love for every Jew, forms the foundation of the Mishkan, a sanctuary designed for G-d’s presence in the midst of a nation burdened by sin. This is because it is our awareness of G-d’s infinite love that drives repentance and transforms the nation into a vessel for the Shechinah. The Torah means exactly what it says:
You shall take the silver of the atonements from the Israelites and give it for the work of the Mishkan. It will thus be a remembrance for the Israelites before G-d to atone for your souls.
Could we come up with a better foundation for G-d’s house?