Parashat Vayakhel-Pekudei

Parking space location has become of utmost importance for me at school this year. With long lines of parents waiting to pick up students, the congestion in the lot can become an inconvenience for trying to pull out, particularly if your slot is blocked by the row of cars waiting to be filled by kids, who are ushered across the lot in small groups by the vigilant dismissal crew. All of this is of course necessary to maintain the health and safety of our community. In the past, when picking a spot, I chose perhaps based on convenient access to building entry, or simply the first opening I saw. Now, I am choosing not based on entry, but on exit. My parking location, then, has become not a place to store my car for the day, but a strategic choice that will affect my travels in the afternoon.

This week, we finish the book of שמות (Exodus) with the completion of the משכן (Mishkan, Tabernacle) by the Israelites. The final four verses detail how, upon completion of the work, God’s presence fills the משכן, visible to בני ישראל (Bnai Yisrael) in the forms of a cloud in the day and fire at night. These emanations, which have guided the Israelites since their exit from Egypt, descend on the משכן when the nation is to camp in place; they lift when it is time to travel (שמות מ:לו):

                                                                          וּבְהֵעָלוֹת הֶעָנָן מֵעַל הַמִּשְׁכָּן יִסְעוּ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּכֹל מַסְעֵיהֶם׃
When the cloud lifted from the Tabernacle, the Israelites would set out, on their various travels;

By lifting the cloud from the משכן, God would communicate that they should pack up and get ready to move. The final verse of the book reads (שמות מ:לח):

                                                  כִּי עֲנַן ה׳ עַל־הַמִּשְׁכָּן יוֹמָם וְאֵשׁ תִּהְיֶה לַיְלָה בּוֹ לְעֵינֵי כָל־בֵּית־יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּכָל־מַסְעֵיהֶם:
For on 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 travels.

These verses seem to contain a paradox: we first learn that when the cloud lifted, בני ישראל traveled. Then, we learn that the cloud and fire were on the משכן throughout their מסעות (travels). Rashi resolves this apparent contradiction by explaining that the root מסע may in fact have two contradictory meanings:

לעיני כל בית ישראל בכל מסעיהם. בְּכָל מַסָּע שֶׁהָיוּ נוֹסְעִים, הָיָה הֶעָנָן שׁוֹכֵן בַּמָּקוֹם אֲשֶׁר יַחֲנוּ שָׁם; מְקוֹם חֲנִיָּתָן אַף הוּא קָרוּי מַסָּע
IN THE SIGHT OF ALL THE HOUSE OF ISRAEL, THROUGHOUT ALL THEIR JOURNEYS. At every מסע which they made (according to Rashi this means: at every station at which they stopped) the cloud rested upon the Tabernacle in the place where they encamped. A place where they encamped is also called מסע (the literal meaning of which is “journey”).

Travel and camping, movement and rest, both indicated by the same word. How can two conflicting actions (or, more accurately, one action and one inaction) be one and the same?

This schlepping and resting would define the existence of בני ישראל through their 40 years in the wilderness. For every resting spot, they knew they would have to pick up and leave again; for every journey or hike that seemed to drag on, they eventually would once again be able to pitch their tents. In this way, every stop was an extension of that day’s journey. Conversely, each campsite was a prelude to the next time they’d have to hitch their wagons and move. In this nomadic lifestyle, the lines between these two definitions of מסע become blurred, the opposing states of being becoming one.

In their wanderings, בני ישראל are houseless, but thanks to the משכן, they are not homeless. When they built the golden calf, בני ישראל showed God that they needed a tangible, grounding way through which they could connect to God. In the form of the משכן, God provided for this need. Wherever בני ישראל would travel/camp, God would dwell in the home they had built, and they would feel at home with God in their midst.

All of us, in our houses, have certain things that make us feel at home. Keepsakes, heirlooms, children’s art projects. Through these intermediaries, we are able to connect to those intangible things they represent: certain feelings, memories, connections to the past. While it may seem ironic that it is through the physical we are able to adhere to incorporeal, this is the human condition, as God learned all too well from the behavior of the Israelites in building the golden calf. However, by remaining mindful of which items carry this special ability, we can ultimately use them to transcend our temporal reality and connect to the otherwise transcendental. I invite us to take stock of these items, remind ourselves what they add to our lives, and be grateful for their power. For it is through these earthly belongings that, beyond connecting to memories and feelings, we may be able to connect to the divine. Shabbat Shalom.