Both Parashat Terumah and the Haftara attached to it present many participants in the building of the Mishkan/Temple. The Parasha begins with the call for donations: "From every man whose heart makes-him-willing, you are to take my contribution" (Exodus 25:2) – every donation is important and is received (Everett Fox translates it as "raised-contribution" – D.B). The entire nation is enlisted to donate to the building of the Mishkan. In the Haftara, there is less participation – the donations become a tax of forced labor, and the builders of the Temple are de facto slaves…
The physical structure of the Mishkan is large and luxurious, full of ornate details that are perhaps interesting to those whose business is architecture or design. Parshat Terumah begins a series of parashot that enumerate these ornate details of the construction of the Mishkan – the materials, the measurements, the building, the special tools for the holy service, down to the clothes of the high priest. Betzalel and Oholiab are filled with the spirit of God in order that they will know exactly how to build and fashion all the different parts of the Mishkan. But the instructions are nevertheless presented here.
Almost automatically, the questions arise – what can be built reasonably? What kind of house is worthy to be built as a home for God? What kind of house is worthy to be built as a home for human beings? Is there a difference between building a house from the ground up and rebuilding a home that has been demolished? What happens to us, internally, when we need to rebuild a home that has been demolished? What kinds of additions and reinforcements will be added to the renewed house, that weren't in the original one?
And what if the house wasn't destroyed naturally, but was demolished by force?
And what about a home that we ourselves destroyed? What is our responsibility to its reconstruction?
Israel Bright, in his song with Hasmachot band, "A Person Needs a Home" asks:
"What’s a home?
The bed, the chair, the table, the window
the world around"
A home can be detailed floor plans full of materials and measurements, fixtures and special details. But without content, the house remains empty with nothing to fill it.
But what happens inside the house? Who and what fills it? What's the meaning of home in general and a home like that in particular?
A home is a connection between materials and spirit. A container to hold the creation of full lives.
Home is a place of protection, a place of recharging before we step out into the world. It's the place we can truly be ourselves without defense or defensiveness.
In these difficult times, any talk of house and home is just too painful, for far too many people.
We don't really know how to return home. If we can't learn to build a home that is livable – we will find ourselves once again homeless, in exile, either physical or spiritual, perhaps even both.
Thus, when we read God's command to build a Mishkan in which God can be present within each and every one of us, these days we must imagine the rebuilding of all the different houses that have been destroyed – in the Gaza envelope, in the North of Israel, in Gaza itself. Homes for the hostages. Only then can we say that we are building a Mishkan in which the Shekhina can truly dwell.
"Homeward / Ehud Manor and Yair Kliger
Homeward, homeward,
The time has come to return
From the mountains
From foreign fields.
The day is waning and there's no sign.
Homeward, homeward,
For it's not yet possible
Everything we were promised so long ago."
Translation: Rabbi Daniel Burstyn
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rabbi Noa Mazor was ordained in 2016. Her first rabbinic work was as manager of the Interfaith department of RHR. Noa is an educator and an activist, who works in different ways to further social perceptions, driven by faith in creating connections and bridges between people of different communities, faith traditions, and religions. She received a Bachelor's degree from the "Ofakim" program in Jewish Cultural Studies at Tel Aviv University, and a Master's degree in Pluralistic Jewish Education from Hebrew University and the Hebrew Union College.
The physical structure of the Mishkan is large and luxurious, full of ornate details that are perhaps interesting to those whose business is architecture or design. Parshat Terumah begins a series of parashot that enumerate these ornate details of the construction of the Mishkan – the materials, the measurements, the building, the special tools for the holy service, down to the clothes of the high priest. Betzalel and Oholiab are filled with the spirit of God in order that they will know exactly how to build and fashion all the different parts of the Mishkan. But the instructions are nevertheless presented here.
Almost automatically, the questions arise – what can be built reasonably? What kind of house is worthy to be built as a home for God? What kind of house is worthy to be built as a home for human beings? Is there a difference between building a house from the ground up and rebuilding a home that has been demolished? What happens to us, internally, when we need to rebuild a home that has been demolished? What kinds of additions and reinforcements will be added to the renewed house, that weren't in the original one?
And what if the house wasn't destroyed naturally, but was demolished by force?
And what about a home that we ourselves destroyed? What is our responsibility to its reconstruction?
Israel Bright, in his song with Hasmachot band, "A Person Needs a Home" asks:
"What’s a home?
The bed, the chair, the table, the window
the world around"
A home can be detailed floor plans full of materials and measurements, fixtures and special details. But without content, the house remains empty with nothing to fill it.
But what happens inside the house? Who and what fills it? What's the meaning of home in general and a home like that in particular?
A home is a connection between materials and spirit. A container to hold the creation of full lives.
Home is a place of protection, a place of recharging before we step out into the world. It's the place we can truly be ourselves without defense or defensiveness.
In these difficult times, any talk of house and home is just too painful, for far too many people.
We don't really know how to return home. If we can't learn to build a home that is livable – we will find ourselves once again homeless, in exile, either physical or spiritual, perhaps even both.
Thus, when we read God's command to build a Mishkan in which God can be present within each and every one of us, these days we must imagine the rebuilding of all the different houses that have been destroyed – in the Gaza envelope, in the North of Israel, in Gaza itself. Homes for the hostages. Only then can we say that we are building a Mishkan in which the Shekhina can truly dwell.
"Homeward / Ehud Manor and Yair Kliger
Homeward, homeward,
The time has come to return
From the mountains
From foreign fields.
The day is waning and there's no sign.
Homeward, homeward,
For it's not yet possible
Everything we were promised so long ago."
Translation: Rabbi Daniel Burstyn
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rabbi Noa Mazor was ordained in 2016. Her first rabbinic work was as manager of the Interfaith department of RHR. Noa is an educator and an activist, who works in different ways to further social perceptions, driven by faith in creating connections and bridges between people of different communities, faith traditions, and religions. She received a Bachelor's degree from the "Ofakim" program in Jewish Cultural Studies at Tel Aviv University, and a Master's degree in Pluralistic Jewish Education from Hebrew University and the Hebrew Union College.