Pekudey 5774 - English

By Rabbi Gustavo Kraselnik

Kol Shearith Israel, Panama

The Torah devotes just a couple of chapters to the Creation of the world, while consecrating 13 to the building of the Mishkan, tabernacle (Exodus 25 to 40, except for chapters 32 to 34, which tell the story of the golden calf).

For years I used this simple comparison as a quick answer, every time that the subject of the origin of the world came up in a conversation, as well as the apparent contradiction between science and religion.  The Torah is not a scientific book, and its does not intend to explain how the world was created; hence, the allocation of just a few verses to the subject.

Nevertheless, it was only a short time ago when I paid attention to the opposite sense of the equation: why does the Torah delve so deeply into describing the building of the Mishkan, its furniture and the priestly garments?

The answer appears in Parashat Pekudey, the last portion of the book of Exodus, or better yet, from a comparative reading of the final passages of this Parashah, which describe the start of the Ohel Mo’ed – Tent of Meeting – operations.

Long ago, Ramban (Nachmanides, Spain, 13th century) focused his attention on the parallels in content and language found on the last verses of the book of Exodus (and the first two of Leviticus) and the passages that describe Moses climbing Mount Sinai to receive the tablets.

For example, let us see two verses:

When Moses went up on the mountain, the cloud covered it, and the glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai.  For six days the cloud covered the mountain, and on the seventh day the Lord called to Moses from within the cloud.   (Ex. 24:15-16)

Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle.

Moses could not enter the tent of meeting because the cloud had settled on it, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle.  (Ex. 40:35-36)

Both cases start with a description of how the clouds covered the Mount/Tabernacle, and only afterwards did the Glory of God abide there.  They even coincide in the fact that, in the first text, Moses does not reach the top of the mountain, which was filled with the Glory of God, whereas in the second, Moses could not enter the Tent of Meeting, since the Tabernacle was full of the Glory of God.

The underlying idea in this comparison is that there is a strong connection between Mount Sinai and the Mishkan.  The scholar who has expressed this concept most radically (and challengingly) is possibly Benno Jacob, German Reform rabbi (Breslau 1862 – London 1945), one of the most renowned biblical commentators of the beginning of the 20th century:

Whenever the people moved, this sanctuary became a traveling Sinai that accompanied them, a part of heaven transplanted on earth in the midst of the people.

In other words and following Ramban’s thinking, Benno Jacob affirms that the Israelites were able to carry Mount Sinai with them – at least its essence – and with it, the possibility of “meeting” with God wherever they were.  This would explain the meticulous dedication made by the Torah regarding the construction of the Mishkan.

The concept of a portable Sinai was revolutionary for the times (up to then, God manifested Himself at specific fixed places; now, He would “walk” with them through the wilderness), and if we examine it closely, it becomes equally challenging for us.

To what extent are we aware that our synagogues, descendent of the Mishkan, should be perceived as small replicas of Mount Sinai?

How much would we have to change in our behavior, to make our congregation an actual representation of the experience at the foot of the mountain?

Is it possible that God continues to speak to us, as He did in the revelation at Mount Sinai, but the cement of the walls and apathy of our hearts prevent us from hearing Him?

The Mishkan being a portable Sinai was an extraordinary idea.  And it still is.

Perceiving God’s presence in our synagogues and listening to His word is, even now, an unfinished task.

Shabbat Shalom,

Gustavo