Every time we read the Torah’s account of the building of the mishkan, it is reasonable to ask why we devote so much time reading about a physical structure that no longer exists to make sacrifices we no longer offer. This question was not lost upon our medieval commentator Isaac Abravanel, who argues that Parashat Terumah has a timeless meaning that transcends the historical question of whether or not a mishkan still exists. Abravanel writes:
“Everything recorded in the Torah is designed to provide us with a permanent source of inspiration and Divine Wisdom, to perfect our souls therein….The doing consists in the study of the text and deriving of the spiritual lessons to be learned by the student and scholar, whether during the time they were actually performed or afterwards (when they were no longer in vogue)” (Abravanel on end of commentary on Parashat Terumah, Shemot 27).
According to Abravanel, when God says to Moses, “And let them Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell amongst them” (Shemot 25:8), we must see how the command to construct a sanctuary is eternal, rather than temporal. This week, I would like share three different commentaries that take this approach, each providing us the opportunity to think about what lessons the mishkan holds for future generations of the Jewish people.
The first commentary comes from Rabbi Hayyim Ibn Attar, otherwise known as the Or Ha-Hayyim, who embraces the idea that the construction of the mishkan is not a one-time event, but a task whose completion represents a timeless symbol in the relationship between the Israelites and God. He writes:
"And let them make Me a sanctuary (Mikdash)." We must understand why He called it a Mikdash, and immediately went back and called it a Mishkan, as it is written, "the pattern of the tabernacle (Mishkan)." It seems that "Let them make Me a Mikdash" is a positive precept that embraces all times, whether in the wilderness or after their entry into the land, at all times that Israel will be there for generations” (Or Ha-Hayyim on Shemot 25:8).
Or Ha-Hayyim notes that the Rambam states in his Mishneh Torah that, “There is a positive precept to build a house for God...as it is written, “And let them make for me a sanctuary” (Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Bet Ha-Bekhirah 1:1, from Or Ha-Hayyim on Shemot 25:8)). Given the fact that the Rambam acknowledges the mitzvah of building a sanctuary thousands of years after the command from our parasha, the Or Ha-Hayyim concludes that the command from our parasha represents a timeless mitzvah, rather than a liminal one.
In the modern period, the Italian rabbi and scholar Umberto Cassuto argues that the construction of the mishkan is inherently connected with the revelation at Sinai, thereby creating a timeless connection between the construction of the mishkan and God’s covenant with the Jewish people. Cassuto states:
“...we must realize that the children of Israel, after they had been privileged to witness the Revelation of God on Mount Sinai, were about to journey from there and thus draw away from the site of the theophany. So long as they were encamped in the place, they were conscious of God’s nearness; but once they set out on their journey, it seemed to them as though the link had been broken, unless there were in their midst a tangible symbol of God’s presence among them. It was the function of the Tabernacle to serve as such a symbol. Not without reason, therefore, does this section come immediately after the section that describes the making of the covenant at Mount Sinai. The nexus between Israel and the Tabernacle is a perpetual extension of the bond that was forged at Sinai between the people and their God…” (Umberto Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Exodus, 319).
According to Cassuto, the construction of the mishkan is a direct extension of the revelation at Sinai. Therefore, the mishkan is a living, movable symbol of the perpetual bond between God and Israel, a symbol that need not lose meaning even in an era without a physical mishkan.
Finally, in his scholarly commentary on the significance of the mishkan in biblical literature, Harvard professor Jon Levenson argues that because God’s presence resides in the mishkan, the mishkan itself provides a physical testament to the divine-human relationship. Levenson writes:
“The Tent is the vehicle for communication with God; in it oracles are received. God’s visible “Presence” (kavod) renders the Tent and its sacrificial apparatus sacred. But the sanctity does not preclude immediate human contact; it only restricts it to the chosen priesthood (kohanim), Aaron and his male descendants. The Tent is a visible relationship between God and Israel, a relationship whose other great testimony is the exodus” (Jon D. Levenson, “The Jerusalem Temple in Devotional and Visionary Experience,” Jewish Spirituality: From the Bible Through the Middle Ages, ed. Arthur Green, 37).
Reflecting both the commentaries of the Or Ha-Hayyim and Cassuto, Levenson argues that the mishkan alludes to the revelation at Sinai and the exodus from Egypt, thereby making the mishkan a living, breathing, eternal symbol of why God matters. In turn, the Israelites are not commanded to built a mishkan in our parasha for themselves alone; they are commanded to be build a mishkan to be an eternal marker of their divine purpose.
It is entirely possible that the Jewish people will never engage in a collective spiritual activity on the level of constructing the mishkan (if wishing made it so). That being said, our commentators challenge us to see the mishkan’s construction as a symbol of the relationship our people must maintain with God, one that transcends time and space. By extension, when we succeed in helping our children reaffirm that relationship with God on a daily basis, we do more than strengthen their faith; we allow them to “build” sanctuary in which God will dwell for the rest of their lives.
Shabbat Shalom!
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