From Tabernacle to synagogue: The power of sacred community

This week’s double Torah portion of Vayakhel/Pekudei concludes the book of Exodus. Much of the latter part of the book of Exodus is devoted to the instructions for building and furnishing the Mishkan, the portable Tabernacle. In this week’s portions, the work actually gets done. A tremendous amount of effort goes into this undertaking, and there is ample opportunity for the Israelites to participate. First comes the call for donations of all the fine materials that comprise the Mishkan: the acacia wood, dolphin skin, fabrics, yarns, dyes, jewels, gold, silver and copper. Presumably, these are objects given to the Hebrew slaves by their masters, eager to see them leave Egypt after the plagues started.

Material goods are not the only donation. A call goes out from Moses for persons whom the Lord has endowed with skill and ability to perform expertly all the tasks connected with building the Mishkan. It is answered by women skilled in weaving and fabric arts, carpenters, jewel cutters and other craftsmen. If it takes a village to raise a child, one could say it takes a community to build a tabernacle.

And so they did. When the work of the Tabernacle is completed, Moses assembles all the children of Israel and blesses them. The last line of the book of Exodus relates: “For over the Tabernacle a cloud of the Lord rested by day, and fire would appear in it by night, in the view of all the house of Israel throughout their journeys.”

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It must have been comforting for the former slaves to have a visible sign that G-d was dwelling among them. They had seen G-d’s awesome power during their miraculous rescue on the shores of the Sea of Reeds and again at Mt. Sinai, yet still their faith had lapsed time and time again. Traumatized by centuries of slavery, it appears that they needed constant reinforcement to solidify their trust in the Holy One.

The concept of worshipping in a physical space like the Mishkan would have been new to them. The Torah does not comment on their worship style during the 400 years of slavery, although the Talmud suggests they had been influenced by the idolatrous practices of Egypt. Before their descent into Egypt, the worship practice of the first three generations of Jews in Israel was to construct an altar on which to sacrifice to God. The Egyptians had temples and priests, but for the Hebrews it was a new concept for a sanctuary space to be part of their worship. When the Mishkan was finished, the former slaves must have been awed and inspired by its beauty and proud of their participation in its creation.

For many of us who worship in a synagogue, its beauty is part the attraction. We may appreciate only its esthetic qualities and let its beauty wash over us. Or, we may appreciate it for its history and tradition. At some point in each synagogue’s history, a group of Jews had a dream that it could become a reality, and then worked to make it so, much like the effort put into building the Mishkan. Succeeding generations worshipped in the same synagogue, making the necessary repairs and renovations to keep the building viable.

Some of us may see the physical qualities of the synagogue like the ark, the ner tamid (eternal light), and the colors used, and connect them to the items mentioned in the Torah and in this week’s parsha. Beauty, history, tradition, and Torah references can be a powerful connection when we worship in a synagogue.

Yet, our synagogues are so much more than physical spaces, important though they may be. The greatest strength of a synagogue is the people who keep it alive. Each person in the community is unique in what he/she/they metaphorically brings to the Mishkan. Some may be Purimspielers, students, or scholars. Some are bakers, teachers, singers, liturgy leaders, social activists, or benefactors. There may be the person who remembers everyone’s name, or the greeter whose smile is infectious. Each one’s personality also is a gift brought to the warp and the weft of the tapestry that comprises a synagogue.

We can look with pride at the beautiful spaces created by earlier generations and maintained by our own. But, by no means is that the only, or even the most important, strength of a congregation. The strength of any congregation, and by extension the Jewish community, is in its people — you and me and the spark of G-d that is within us all.

And, speaking of strength — because we have finished the book of Exodus with this week’s parshot — we say, “Chazak, chazak, v’nitchazeik. Be strong, be strong, and let us strengthen one another.” PJC

Cantor Michal Gray-Schaffer is the spiritual leader emerita of Congregation B’nai Abraham. This column is a service of the Greater Pittsburgh Jewish Clergy Association.