Every building in the process of being built starts with a rough sketch, eventually becoming a hard sketch, then a blueprint, a model and so on. This process entails that all details of the structure are known to everyone involved and that no surprises show up along the way. That initial sketch though, physically describing the dream to become reality, is the real masterpiece. It takes something from nothing, creating form and design straight from the imagination.
It should come as no surprise that the Torah also contains aspects of detailed architecture. Although the Jews spent years building the pyramids in Egypt, and also have the history of a giant ark in their back pockets, the first time the Jewish people are instructed to build something under the auspices of being Jewish, they are at the foot of Mt Sinai, receiving life instructions from God. Rather fitting then, that they should receive the building instructions for an alter in which God's presence can be felt and convened with.
However, we often dislike intricately detailed instructions on how to do things. This parsha contains those minutia that are a personal plague, especially as description and not depiction; two and a half chapters worth of minutia to be exact. Exodus 25:10-27:19 is a line by line description of how the ark of the covenant should be built; the kind of wood, the kinds of decorations (elaborate and extraneous to the actual building itself), the curtains and the knobs. Considering that this would be the place God planned to rest, as God remarked:ועשו לי מקדש ושכנתי בתוכם, let them make for me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them (Shemot 25:10). God obviously has an idea of what God desires/needs, but why? Why does it matter what the place where God resides looks like? Even bigger than that, isn't God all around us (even if we are unaware of God's presence), as is read in Berashit 28:16?
These questions and more bombarded me as I perused this week's parsha, parshat Truma. Although named Truma (meaning giving without expecting anything in return), and in a way, the parsha is about giving the ultimate sacrifice without payment, a place for God to reside and in which they can perform future sacrifices, the parsha seems to be more of a physical instruction manual than a spiritual one. However, maybe God is also giving a gift to the Jewish people. Without their knowledge, the building of this holy site and the dedication/determination that will go into it, likely brought the builders an experience of spiritual commune. Not something to take lightly, nor something that everyone can say about their lives. In addition, the joy the ark would bring was worth the sacrifice of time and effort that went into it, so it makes more sense to have detailed instructions, making the process as simple and transparent as possible. Yet that still begs the question, for what does God need such an elaborate sanctuary, with certain colors of blue, purple and red; cherubim; gold and curtains?
Instead of thinking of this ark of the covenant in terms of what God needs, we must think of this in terms of what the Jewish people need at the current time in their Exodus. They have just left permanent residence to follow some guy they don't really know, into the desert, without any chance of safety and permanence along the way. Rather terrifying for me to consider. Therefore, this ark offers a solution of permanence that may still be transported, granting the Jewish people a semblance of belief that might be hard to come by in an otherwise disparate situation. The specific directions buoy the people by demonstrating that there is order in the world and the structure gives the people a physical reminder of God's presence in their lives.
Although we don't have an ark of the covenant and frankly wouldn't all be able to access it if one existed, we do have many ways of representing our Judaism to ourselves. We have necklaces and bracelets with symbols of our Jewish identity, tattoos with important Hebrew words. We may don t'fillin or a tallit, pray on a daily basis or keep Kosher. Whatever the ways, we also must have the physical representation of God's presence in our lives. The challenge is to recognize that presence and appreciate it, respect that it often times must be seen before us before we can realize it. Therefore, this week, my goal is to find the physical presence of God everyday, in the variety of different activities I take part in, to see where I feel God's presence most. Also, the question of whether or not I need a physical item or place to feel God's presence, or if it is inside of me.
God's presence in often felt for people in synagogues. However, this past week, a synagogue in Ra'anana, the town where I work, was vandalized. The link to the article on the vandalism can be found here. This outrage demonstrates to me that not everyone, even in a place where Judaism is in the majority, respects and appreciates the variation among people (and Jews). I cannot understand how people think that prayer in a reform way is blasphemous, simply because it is not Orthodox or an aspect of the service was not included.
May this be a Shabbat of rest, menucha, and peace, shalom.
May it be God's will. Amen.
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