Parshat Vayakhel-Pekudei: Some Thoughts

Although I try to avoid this, I am writing on “this week’s” parsha after the Shabbat on which we read it.  I spent Shabbat visiting a friend in Detroit and will share a couple quick thoughts on this week’s parsha based on conversations and speeches that took place over Shabbos:

The Torah and the Tablets

During his morning drasha, the Rabbi of the Young Israel explained the connection between the Aron Kodesh in our synagogues and the Mishkan that is being built during this week’s parsha.  After expounding upon the similarities, he came to the center of each: the focus of the Mishkan is the luchot, the two tablets with the Ten Commandments inscribed on them; and the focus of the Aron is the Torah.  If one is to be equated to the other, he asked, then why are the luchot in the Mishkan laid down while the Torah scroll stands upright in the Aron? 

The Radbaz, a well-known Torah commentator that I believe lived in the 16-17^th century, answers by explaining the purpose of our synagogues.  Our synagogues are beitei tefillot, houses of prayer, where we stand (literally for the Amidah) in front of God and speak to Him.  We stand for tefillah in front of the Aron, in front of the Torah.  And in return the Torah stands for us.  The Torah stands to show it’s accessibility to us.  It is God’s gift to the Jewish people – a book that guides our lives.  And it is not something the lies down and “takes a break.”  It is always accessible to us in any and every situation.  We stand for tefillah in front of the Torah, and the Torah stands for us. 

What does Shabbat have to do with the Mishkan?

The Torah narrative has a seemingly odd flow.  In “parsha musing,” which my friend asked over Shabbat lunch, they asked why the Torah needed to mention Shabbat (and that we don’t work on it) prior to explaining the construction of the Mishkan.  It seems like an odd insert that doesn’t completely fit in.  The answer is psychological: the Torah does not want us to think, even for the briefest of time, that constructing the Mishkan is a permitted Shabbos activity.  Therefore the construction is prefaced by establishing the rules of Shabbat – which includes refraining from work done in building the Mishkan.  If we were to first learn about how to build it, we may think it permissible to build it even on Shabbat.  Even if we later learn that this is not the case, the impression may be lasting.

This seemed an odd explanation to me at first, but it bears a lot of truth.  For example, let’s say one learns (mistakenly) that eating product X is kosher and later learns product X is in fact not kosher.  When that person finds themselves in a situation where they cannot remember if it is kosher or not, they are more likely to believe it is kosher because that was their first impression.  The same goes for Shabbat…when someone is raised to use electricity on Shabbat it is hard to stop.  Or if one hears that Rabbi so-and-so said something is forbidden, but later learns that it was merely a rumor, the impression lingers and they are prone to repeat the false rumor.  First impressions matter; they predispose us towards a certain way of thinking or feeling.  Therefore the Torah is careful to assert the primacy of Shabbat prior to the building of the Mishkan. 

The Mishkan and Creation

Judaism views the building of the Mishkan as a parallel to God’s creation of the universe (how so is not relevant to this post).  God created the universe in six days and on the seventh, He declared Shabbat – a day of rest.  During the building of the Mishkan the Jews would rest on Shabbat, not doing any work related to the construction.  My friend asked: why was it necessary to build something that resembles God’s creation of the universe?  My answer was (and is) that by being asked to emulate God’s act of creation in a way that is more tangible to us, it gives us the means to relate to God’s blessing of Shabbat (“and God blessed the seventh day, and hallowed it; because that in it He rested from all His work which God in creating had made.” – Bereishit 2:2).  We can better appreciate the beauty of Shabbat by experiencing it in the way that God created it; by putting our all into a creation for six days, and then having the ability and luxury of abstaining from it on the seventh day.  Today we do not have the Mishkan, but our Shabbat tables are equated to our personable altars to God.  We are constantly busy throughout the week – work, errands, technology, stress.  But Shabbat, we bless and make holy. 

Creativity in the Torah

The construction of the Beit HaMikdash is very rigid – precise colors, measurements, and numbers are given in the Torah and more detail is in the Oral law.  There seems to be no room for creativity in creating the Temple.  But what particularly strikes me is not the precision of the Temple, as I realize this is a necessity just as any architectural structure must be exactly laid out.  What somewhat bothers me is Betzalel, who was chosen as the chief “artist” of the Temple due to his skills and was imparted with divine wisdom to boot.  Yet his “skill” was in following a pattern that was already created.  We tend to think of artists as not only skilled, but also creative (i.e., saying an artists is skilled implies creativity as well). 

During Shabbat dinner this week, I ate at a recently married couple’s home.  The girl, a ba’alat teshuva, was raised very involved in the musical world.  She played the French horn from childhood and was hoping to play in a symphony orchestra prior to becoming religious.  But, she explained, the lifestyle of an orchestra performer is one she is glad she won’t be living.  It doesn’t allow for creativity.  You play classical pieces of music over and over again, year after year.  Even pieces that a player loves, often becomes just another piece of music.  As she was describing the life and career of an orchestra player (which I honestly found fascinating), I found it to be related to the life that Betzalel and the other artisans in the Mishkan must have led.  But I have realized this is not the case.  While on the surface many similarities exist, the comparison isn’t altogether appropriate.

The work of Betzalel was for the central focus of the Jewish people – the Mishkan.  It was being done for a higher calling, so to speak.  The Torah provides structure in many areas, one of them being the construction of the Temple.  Because of this it may seem when reading it, that Judaism is a very strict religion that shuns creativity.  But of course the Torah is the law book of the Jewish people.  What lies outside of the laws is creativity – the laws in the Torah are inherently meant to place borders around us.  Creativity is up to the individual.  In our tefillot, we have structured prayer as well as the ability for personal spontaneous prayer.  In our life, we choose our career and our hobbies; we do this activity or that.  Creativity cannot be mandated by the Torah because creativity inherently cannot be commanded.  But the Torah gives us necessary borders.  Societies often ask: what are our boundaries?  Where do we draw the line, what laws should we impose and which should be removed?  This can lead to dangerous consequences.  A friend recently told me of two mute brothers who reached middle age and learned they were going blind.  They couldn’t bear the thought of living without sight so they went to Belgium (or somewhere in Europe) where assisted euthanasia for such issues is allowed.  The Belgian society has drawn their boundary on this issue differently than we have in American society.  But for a Jew, the Torah is our boundary.  No matter where we are, the Torah guides us.  Our creativity must be within the Torah’s boundaries or we run the risk of blurring lines that should never be blurred.