Parashat Pekudei

Last week, my great anticipation was finally satisfied as the large box arrived on my doorstep. After awkwardly schlepping it inside, I cautiously enter the kitchen and search for an implement to pry open the curious container. Keep in mind, that I’ve broken nails, given myself cardboard paper cuts, and said a few choices words while trying to open these super-sealed surprise packages. Not only is it extremely frustrating to open these now-identified IKEA boxes, but to do so correctly adds unnecessary time to an already time-consuming process! 

Cutting through the tape, I begin to unpack the myriad of contents. In addition to an always useful Allen wrench, I unload 6 mounting rails, 12 panels, 18 hinges, 24 brackets, 48 connectors, and 7 hinges (not sure why this count was an odd number while all the other contents seemingly came in pairs!). Finally, at the bottom of the empty box, I discover the dreaded detailed instruction manual. Written in Chinese, Swedish, English, and Spanish, the sixteen page “essay of assembly” is accompanied by a variety of microscopic pictures, all seemingly laughing at me. Clearly, they are waiting for the tiniest mistake to render my entire activity and effort a colossal failure. Over six weeks of daily work, I exhaustedly and lovingly complete my wall-length cabinet project. 

The very next day the doorbell chimes, uprooting me from a well-deserved afternoon slumber. Surprisingly, a top-level manager from IKEA introduces himself and asks to enter my residence for the explicit purpose of intricately inspecting my precisely constructed work of art. Needless to say, Swen’s sudden “house call” leaves me uneasy, tense, worried, nervous, and, in a heightened state of anxiety. Imagine my amazement when Swen enthusiastically compliments my work, not once, but seven times. Chanting in Kulning, a vocalization tradition that dates back to the Middle Ages (where singers corral farm animals with hypnotic melodies), Swen tunefully assures me that the cabinet is perfect, beautiful, and stunning. Furthermore, Swen suggests that I should take it with me whenever I decide to move!

While the above story may be apocryphal, it allegorically mimics the experience of synagogue goers over the last two months. Each week in the Torah reading, we have learned of the instructions, design, and pain-staking implementation process related to the construction of the Mishkan (tabernacle). The Mishkan will become the holding vessel of the covenantal tablets, and the sacred space surrounding it will eventually be filled by the glory of Hashem. 

This week, in Parashat Pekudei, Exodus 39 marks the realization of the first ever “correctly constructed IKEA project” by Jewish folks! 

Due to our people’s collective attention to the holiness of the task at hand, and due to the sincerity by which Bnai Yisrael approached both the largesse (and minutiae) of the assignment, the Mishkan is indeed perfect. The details matter! Seven times in the chapter, the phrase כַּאֲשֶׁ֛ר צִוָּ֥ה יְהֹוָ֖ה אֶת־מֹשֶֽׁה (as God commanded Moshe) is repeated, indicating that each step of the project is flawless. 

While the number seven is a biblical echo of Godly creation, divine schema, and preconceived perfection, here the achievement of the people is angelically lauded. They have acted in accordance with all of the with finer points of Hashem’s loftiest wishes for the design of His earthly abode.

Beyond the literary allusion to the original Creation, final proof of divine satisfaction is represented by Hashem’s spiritual relocation to “dwell therein,” thus fulfilling His original request as found earlier in Exodus 25:8: וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם (make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them). 

Moving forward, the people of Israel, will always experience Hashem’s presence.

In many ways, it is the attention to detail and consideration of the holiness of the task at hand which makes sacred our work here at the Leffell School. While you place your amazing children in our caring hands, administrators, office staff, educators, and building staff handle the tiniest of details, alongside the largest issues that impact our holy work. And while not perfect, we have created a sacred space of which we can all be proud. 

Each and every day, from the first announcement in the morning, when we stand at attention and focus our kavanah (intention) towards the safety of our brothers and sisters in Israel, until the conclusion of a boisterous afternoon athletic activity, we refine, focus, and dedicate all of our energy to making this building, our school, and our kehilah a place where Hashem proudly dwells. It is here that your children, the future leaders of the Jewish people, experience holiness. 

Shabbat Shalom.