“The House We Build Together”
Sermon Delivered by Rabbi Evan Moffic
Chicago Sinai Congregation
February 8, 2008
In American sports, we love heroes. After the New York Giants won the Superbowl, all the talk was about star quarterback Eli Manning. When we see commercials for basketball games on TV, they feature Kobe Bryan or Lebron James. Ten years ago, the Nike-Town store on Michigan Avenue was virtually a shrine to Michael Jordan. Now while one star player gathers attention, the truth is that successful teams depend on teamwork. Just think: if you have a great quarter back but no one who can block or receive, how many touch downs can he throw? If a team has a greater shooter, but no one who is skilled enough to get around the defense and pass him the ball, how often can they score> In sports, in business, in organizations, success always depends on teamwork.
The Torah, in fact, taught this lesson a long time ago. We see it clearly in this week's Torah portion. On first glance, the Torah reading is mundane. It discusses all the details for the construction of the tabernacle, which was the Israelites' portable sanctuary in the wilderness. It seems anti-climactic after the thunderous description of the revelation of the Torah and the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai, and upcoming idolatrous sin of the golden calf. This week's reading concerns itself with details describing the construction of the Tabernacle. These descriptions continue for many chapters, almost to the end of the book of Exodus.
Yet, our sages noticed something profound. These creation of the Tabernacle consumes many chapters and hundreds of verses. Yet, an earlier act of creation--that of the creation of the world--took only 3 chapters and about a tenth of the number of verses. That seems strange, doesn't it? Shouldn't the creation of the world, the beginning of life as we know, take some time? The world is vast. The tabernacle, in contrast, was small, a modest construction of poles and drapes that could be dismantled and carried from place to place as the Israelites journeyed through the wilderness. Given that the length of any passage in the Torah is, as Jonathan Sacks points out, a guide to the significance it attaches to an episode or law, why devote so much time and space to the Tabernacle?
The answer goes to the heart of Judaism. Judaism is not primarily about God. It is not about what God is capable of doing, the miracles God can perform and so on. It is about human beings. It is about human beings' capacity to realize God's dream here on earth. Indeed, the construction of the tabernacles is the Israelites' literal attempt to build a home for God on earth. Yet it symbolizes the broader human aspiration to make our world a dwelling place for God--a place of human dignity, of justice, of peace.That it takes so long is illustrative of the difficulty of the quest. The details of how it is accomplished teach us what we need to do to further this quest. If we read the text closely, we see the critical need for both diversity and team work.
When the Israelites begin building the tabernacles, they are a rag tag of group divided into twelves tribes. They are barely seven weeks out of slavery. They hardly get along and seem unsuited to complete a project of such great magnitude. So what do they do? Well first, Moses asks for contributions: the practice of Jewish fund raising is quite old! Yet, he does not ask for only monetary gifts nor does he require that everyone give. The gift is neither required nor uniform. Rather, he asks for gifts "from every person whose heart so moves him." This voluntariness and flexibility is the not norm--we learn later in the Torah that the once the Tabernacle was constructed, regular offerings were minutely prescribed... Everyone had to give a half-shekel for the silver sockets needed for the building, and another half-shekel annually for the sacrifices." That's the equivalent of one contribution for the capital fund and another for programming. Yet, here is Moses asking for voluntary donations. The result is that each of the Israelites offers unique gifts and skills. One makes the curtain for the ark. Another gives the gold. Another chops the wood for the alter. It is through this act of creation--this teamwork depending on the unique skills and cooperation of every Israelite--that the tabernacle is contructed. And it is also through this act of teamwork that the Israelites become a nation. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks put it, "Moses was faced with the problem: How do turn a group of people--in his case, liberated salves--into a nation with a collective identity? His answer was dazzling in its simplicity. You get them voluntarily to create something together.... The best way of making people feel 'I belong' is to enlist them in a shared project so they can say, 'I helped build this.'" [Jonathan Sacks, The Home We Build Together, P. 138) How beautiful, and how true.
In fact, this is not only true for building a nation, but it can be true in building peace between nations. I read a most interesting story recently about a dinner party that happened in the early 1990s. This was a time, we remember, when serious peace negotiations had begun between Israel and its neighbors. A British Lord named Victor Mishkon hosted a dinner for his friend, King Hussein of Jordan, and the Israeli Foreign Minister, Shimon Peres. The dinner proceeded well until it was time for them to leave. As King Hussein and Shimon Peres began to excuse themselves, Mishcon said,with an air of surprise, "You can't leave. What about the cleaning up?" Not wanting to be impolite, the two leaders said, "Are you serious?" Lord Mishcon said, "Absolutely." So the two men removed their jackets, rolled up their sleeves, went into the kitchen and washed the plates and silverware. That evening began a relationship between King Hussein and Shimon Peres that eventually helped make possible the Israel/Jordan Peace Treaty of 1994. When we do something together, we bond with and appreciate one another.
Working together to build a home for God on earth is ultimately the quest to build a world where human beings are at home with one another. We see this truth in another small detail of this week's Torah reading. The text tells us that God says to Moses, "Let them build me a sanctuary so that I may dwell among them." (Exodus 25:8)Our sages noticed a peculiar feature of this verse: it would make better grammatical and logical sense were God to say: "Build me a sanctuary that I may dwell within it." The sanctuary is God's home. That's why the people build it. But that's not what the text says: Let them build me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them. Why this linguistic inconsistency? The answer is that more important than the physical space we build around us is the spiritual openings we create within us. The realization of God's tabernacle comes not when the building is complete; it is realized when when we see the spark of God in everyone around us. It is realized when we open our hearts to God's presence, when, as our prayer books says, "We consecrate ourselves anew today to the great task our ancestors began long ago. Ours too shall be the ceaseless aim to bring ever nearer that blessed age, when this shall be the faith of all humanity: One God over all, one human family of all."When we get there, we will have built God's tabernacle.