SPIRIT
A WORD OF TORAH
Holy Space
H
uman beings have a unique and fundamental attachment to place and space. Animals have lairs and mark their territory, but people add layers of significance to the spaces they occupy. Our homes are particularly significant to us. They provide us with security, privacy, Chief Rabbi belonging, identity. Warren They are the center Goldstein of our existence — a central place from which to look out at the world. And they give our lives meaning, well-being and happiness. Home is the place we feel safest. Where we build a lifetime of memories. Where we raise our children and entertain family and friends simply to celebrate being together. Above all, our homes are sanctuaries — a physical safe harbor, but also a place of emotional and even spiritual refuge. Ultimately, a home isn’t just where you are, it’s who you are. In this week’s parshah, we read
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of another sacred space, a literal sanctuary — a spiritual home for the Jewish people and a “resting place” for the Shechina, God’s Divine presence. Parshah Terumah deals with God’s instruction to build the Mishkan — most often translated as the “Tabernacle” or the “Sanctuary” in the desert. It was the place where the Jewish people gathered together to connect to God in an intimate way. Though built to extraordinarily intricate and detailed specifications, the Mishkan was a temporary structure that was disassembled and then reconstructed as the Jewish people journeyed from place to place. Later on, when the Jewish people took possession of the land, it took a more permanent form — becoming a forerunner to, and receiving its ultimate expression in, the Beit HaMikdash — the holy Temple in Jerusalem. The city of Jerusalem itself is a holy space, and within it the Temple Mount, on which the Temple stood, is a place where the spir-
itual pulse is at its most intense — to the extent that the Beit HaMikdash embodies the very notion of the holiness of space: Kedushat HaMakom. Jewish history and destiny is inextricably entwined with the Temple. It was the focal point of our identity when it stood and, 2,000 years later, we continue to mourn its destruction and pray fervently for its rebuilding. Yet, in a certain sense, the Mishkan/Beit HaMikdash remains in existence today — as the prototype and model for two other key institutions in Jewish life, the shul and the beit hamidrash — the house of learning. According to the Talmud (Megillah 29a), even after the destruction of the Temple, God’s presence continues to dwell in the shuls and Torah study halls we create, which are called a Mikdash Me’at — a miniature sanctuary. These two fundamental institutions, so permeated with holiness even amid the darkness of exile, are a microcosm of the Mishkan and the holy Temple.
THE SANCTITY OF PHYSICAL SPACE We see that this concept of the sanctity of physical space has characterized Jewish life for thousands of years. Let’s now journey deeper into the root meaning of the Mishkan. The Sefer HaChinuch, one of the classic works from the Middle Ages, argues that the purpose of the Mishkan wasn’t really to provide a home for God. The author cites the words of King Solomon spoken at the dedication of the Temple he himself built: “Behold the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain You, and surely not this Temple that I have built” (Kings 1:8:27). The Sefer HaChinuch, therefore, instead focuses on the Mishkan’s significance to people. He says the Mishkan’s painstakingly detailed building specifications were geared toward constructing an intensely holy space within which God’s presence — the Shechinah — could be felt viscerally, enabling those who entered its confines to be uplifted
