Sermons

Our Torah portion this week is called Pikudei, and it is the final portion in the book of Exodus. Toby will be our teacher tomorrow morning, and I promised her, as I promise every B’Mitzvah student, that I will never speak on Friday night on the same topic that they will speak on on Saturday morning.

My words are about the very end of the portion, as the Israelites complete the project of the building of the mishkan or tabernacle, the portable worship space that they will carry through the wilderness. The text reads:

ַוְיַ֥כל ֹמֶ֖שׁה ֶאת־ַהְמָּלאָֽכה׃

When Moses had finished the work,

ַוְי ַ֥כס ֶה ָעָ֖נ ן ֶאת־ ֹ֣א ֶהל מוֹ ֵ֑עד וּ ְכ ֣בוֹד ְי ֹהָ֔וה ָמ ֵ֖לא ֶאת־ ַה ִמּ ְשׁ ָֽכּן׃

the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the Presence of יהוה filled the Tabernacle.

ְולֹא־ ָי ֹ֣כל ֹמ ֶ֗שׁה ָלבוֹ ֙א ֶאל־ ֹ֣א ֶהל מוֹ ֵ֔עד ִֽכּי־ ָשׁ ַ֥כן ָע ָ֖ליו ֶה ָעָ֑נ ן וּ ְכ ֣בוֹד ְי ֹהָ֔וה ָמ ֵ֖לא ֶאת־ ַה ִמּ ְשׁ ָֽכּן׃

Moses could not enter the Tent of Meeting, because the cloud had settled upon it and the Presence of יהוה filled the Tabernacle.

These words remind of a Kabbalistic midrash – the Kabbalists were the Jewish mystics who lived in northern Israel, in the town of S’fat, in the 16th and 17th centuries. A midrash is a response to something perceived to be missing from the biblical text. The mystics asked this question – If God is everywhere, how was there room for God’s creation at the very beginning of the Torah?

Their answer involves the concept of tzimtzum. When God began to create the world, because God took up one hundred percent of it, God had to – in a manner of speaking – suck in God’s stomach to make room for the creation. This idea of God pulling back and making space for others is called tzimtzum. And it’s a great lesson for us all, whether we’re in a fancy restaurant, in a coffeeshop, or talking on our cell phone – the challenge is for us to be aware of how much space we take up, and who and what shares our space, so that we always make room for others.

And while the mystics are certain that God practiced tzimtzum during creation, I wonder why, with the completion of the mishkan, or the tabernacle, God does not do the same. The text says specifically that “Moses could not enter.”

I think it may have to do with who is creating and why.

In the beginning of the Torah, God is the creator; we all know the story – on days one through six, God step-by-step brings the world into being. Why? Nissan Dovid Dubov notes, “In the works of Kabbalah [Jewish mysticism], various expositions are presented as to the purpose of creation. The Zohar [a mystical commentary on the Torah] states that the reason God created the world is “So that we may know [God].” Rabbi Chaim Vital writes that “God wished to reveal the complete array and perfection of [God’s] powers and deeds.”

By contrast, it is humanity that creates the mishkan, the tabernacle. Why? The Torah does not state, but its purpose is best summed up in the inner part of the structure: It’s called the ohel moed, or the Tent of Meeting.”

While God created the world so that we might know God, it is about knowing in order to be in relationship. But humanity created a place to meet God, to meet in order to worship. God is inviting us into relationship through God’s creation. We, on the other hand, are keeping our distance. We cannot be the ones who invite a relationship; only God can do that.

Still, we need a place to meet God or otherwise we will act foolishly. These mishkan builders are the very same people who freaked out when Moses spent too long on Mount Sinai with God just after God gave the Torah. They made the Golden Calf so that they could bring God’s presence into their midst. And what did their distant ancestors do?

Few people remember the story in the Torah after Noah and his family come off of the Ark and begin to repopulate the world. Once there are sufficient numbers of people, they build a tower, the Tower of Babel, in order to be close to God. The people fail to understand that God is with them on the ground. God, acting as a dear friend of mine once titled a sermon, “God the Toddler,” destroys the Tower.

Think of a cherub-like two-year-old building a tower out of blocks and then knocking it over.

What we see then, are past acts of not properly connecting with God. The people cannot initiate. The people finally get it right with the mishkan, which God painstakingly instructs them on how to build, and God rewards them for it. Not with gifts of gold or silver or acacia wood or dolphin skins. In fact, these are the gifts that the people bring to build the mishkan. Rather, God’s reward to the people is God’s presence. There is no need in that moment for God to make room for Moses or anyone else, as the mishkan’s meeting tent is not about mutuality or duality. It’s about humanity’s expressing their love or awe – even their fear – of God, and offering to God the best of themselves.

When God created, it was different.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote, “In creating humans, God brought into existence the one life form with the sole exception of [God]self, capable of freedom and choice. That is what the phrase means when it says, ‘Let us make humanity in our image after our likeness.’ The salient fact is that God has no image.

“This means not just the obvious fact that God is invisible. [God] cannot be seen. [God] cannot be identified with anything in nature: not the sun, the moon, thunder, lightning, the ocean or any of the other objects or forces people worshipped in [ancient] days. In this superficial sense, God has no image. That, wrote Sigmund Freud in his last book, Moses and Monotheism, was Judaism’s greatest contribution. By worshipping an invisible God, Jews tilted the balance of civilization from the physical to the spiritual.”

Sacks continues, “But the idea that God has no image goes far deeper than this. It means that we cannot conceptualize God, understand [God], or predict [God]. God is not an abstract essence; [God] is a living presence. That is the meaning of God’s own self-definition to Moses at the Burning Bush: ‘I will be what I will be’ – meaning, ‘I will be what I choose to be.’ I am the God of freedom, who endowed humankind with freedom, and I am about to lead the children of Israel from slavery to freedom.” In other words, it is about the mutuality or duality.

May we learn from both – like God the creator, may we always make room for others. And like the Israelite creators, may we always make room for God.

Shabbat shalom.