Parashat Vayakhel-Pekudei:
March 17, 2020
Lori Abecassis, Middle School Tanakh Curriculum Coordinator
This dvar Torah is dedicated to our son Jojo — who, as of yesterday, is officially a bar mitzvah! Mazal tov, Jojo! A special thank you goes out to the whole Leffell School community, Rabbi Joan Forchheimer in particular, for enabling us — and the Bellman Family: Mazal tov, Sarina! — to celebrate this simcha virtually this morning.
Every year, on the very first day of school, I announce, both humorously and somewhat vulnerably, that I am artistically challenged. As point of fact, in all my years of schooling, art was the class in which I consistently received the worst grades. Don’t get me started on the whole concept of grading artistic ability, but suffice it to say that even though I can’t even draw a recognizable stick figure, I have learned how to use my scale ruler to determine all things level, straight, and properly measured. A different type of art, for sure!
With all that by way of introduction to this week’s double parashah Vayakhel-Pekudei, I still surprisingly go bleary-eyed reading the copious architectural details of the building of the Mishkan — the portable sanctuary — which make up the bulk of the Torah text we read this week. The parashah begins with a short discussion of Shabbat and then goes full force into measurements, calculations, and amounts galore, explaining how Bnei Yisrael fulfills God’s instructions to build the Mishkan. Commentaries have taught us that the abrupt juxtaposition from Shabbat to Mishkan–building teaches us the 39 categories of melachah — work — that are forbidden on Shabbat; any activity which was a part of the construction of the Mishkan is prohibited on Shabbat. Nonetheless, the bulk of the last two parshiot of the book of Shemot are all about the planks, clasps, goats’ hair, rams’ and dolphins’ skins, scarlet yarn, gold, copper, and silver, that all the people “whose heart moved them” donated to make the holy Mishkan. Many say that the rich details simply, or not so simply, emphasize the seriousness of following God’s command to construct a sanctuary so that God can dwell among the people. You know: “If you build it (the right way), he will come.” Others have suggested that the excessive details serve as a type of white noise, allowing us to hear the real message of how the people united in service of God after chet ha’egel —the sin of the Golden Calf —the famous narrative that we read in last week’s parashah.
While constructing the Mishkan is undoubtedly the primary content of Vayakhel-Pekudei, the building of a community seems to be the main theme. Since leaving Egypt, Bnei Yisrael have undeniably witnessed the mind-blowing and life-altering powers of God. The splitting of the yam suf and God’s revelation at Har Sinai are cases in point. But remember that just as Bnei Yisrael is new to this God-in-their-lives existence, so too is God kind of new to this being-God-over-an-entire-nation thing. And whereas God has tried to make the people unite through a passive witnessing of God’s acts, God has not yet really given this group of escaped slaves an active opportunity to come together and feel connected as one people in service to God.
At least until now. Giving them a task to work on together seems to be just what Bnei Yisrael needs before moving forward, together, on their trek to the Promised Land. God gives them the opportunity, actually the command, to come together and boy, do they ever: “All whose heart so moved them.” “Everyone who excelled in ability.” “Everyone whose spirit moved him.” “Men and women” alike. Everyone comes to be a part of the construction of God’s sanctuary. They donate so much that Moshe has to call them off. Artisans show up without any previous skill, but as the Ramban tells us, it didn’t matter because God gives them new skills. Rashi tells us that the women are so excited to participate that they weave goat hairs off the backs of the goats. Even Moshe realizes the importance of community building as he steps aside to allow the gifted Betzalel to run the show. Perhaps he learns this from God, who similarly moves aside to allow the people to build the Mishkan, which according to scholars of ancient Near Eastern literature, is the culminating act of God’s creation. The building of community is tantamount to the construction of God’s sanctuary.
It is never surprising but always remarkable to me that our weekly Torah portions continue to resonate deeply and personally in our daily lives. That is the beauty and the timelessness of Torah. No greater proof of this is what is going on around us right now. Even though community is the very thing affected and infected right now, community building continues to happen all around us, from the learning that is happening remotely at The Leffell School to the balconies in Italy as tenors serenade their neighbors and fitness instructors inspire fellow apartment dwellers to join in a group exercise class. The social distancing which is silo-ing us to our own homes is no match for our efforts to build community now that we are forced (or enabled?) to creatively connect more deeply and meaningfully with one another. We are broadening our definition of community, and each of us has heeded the call to build those connections and strengthen our relationships with family, friends, students, and teachers. Just like Bnei Yisrael, our “hearts have so moved” us!
It is never surprising but always remarkable to me that our weekly Torah portions continue to resonate deeply and personally in our daily lives. That is the beauty and the timelessness of Torah. No greater proof of this is what is going on around us right now. Even though community is the very thing affected and infected right now, community building continues to happen all around us, from the learning that is happening remotely at The Leffell School to the balconies in Italy as tenors serenade their neighbors and fitness instructors inspire fellow apartment dwellers to join in a group exercise class. The social distancing which is silo-ing us to our own homes is no match for our efforts to build community now that we are forced (or enabled?) to creatively connect more deeply and meaningfully with one another. We are broadening our definition of community, and each of us has heeded the call to build those connections and strengthen our relationships with family, friends, students, and teachers. Just like Bnei Yisrael, our “hearts have so moved” us!
I know that I speak for so many who say that we have never been prouder to be part of our Leffell School community: from the teachers supporting one another to reinvent our teaching to make remote learning engaging and productive, to the administration guiding us with this new educational platform through daily (often thrice daily!) communication and assistance, to the parents who help on the home front to make sure that your children are practically and mentally ready to learn through a computer screen, and most impressively to our students who, with fuzzy socks on their feet and puppies in their laps, remind us that learning is fun, especially when we learn together.
This week’s parashah ends with the anticipation that the community project of building God’s Mishkan will sustain the people throughout their years in the wilderness. For us, our mishkan of community will continue to sustain us and nurture us through this unprecedented crisis. And just as we say חזק חזק ונתחזק — chazak chazak venitchazek — as we finish reading the book of Shemot this Shabbat, so too do I wish us all, now more than ever, חזק חזק ונתחזק — “strength, strength, and let us be strengthened.” Shabbat Shalom.