To Serve In The Holy: Pekudei

To Serve In The Holy:  לשרת בקודש

D’var Torah for Parashat Pekudei

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

This week’s Torah portion (Ex. 38:21—40:38) is the last parasha in the Book of Exodus.  The depiction of the final fitting of the pieces of the Mishkan (the Tabernacle, or portable temple that the Israelites carried with them throughout their wandering in the Wilderness), offers an appropriate conclusion to the amazing series of events that the Book of Exodus comprises.

The People of Israel, redeemed from slavery as per God’s promise to Abraham, are led through the parted waters of the Red Sea.  Rallying around Mt. Sinai, they hear and accept God’s unity and sovereignty.  Their faith in God is tested—and found wanting—in the incident of the Golden Calf.  But, as troubling as this incident is, it teaches both Israel and God a lesson:  We need to have God’s Presence somehow manifested among us.  It isn’t enough for God to appear in a vision or night dream to this mystic or another.  Rather, God must be evident to all of us, one and all.  Nor are one-time events sufficient.  We need a constant reminder, a visible, indelible and lasting manifestation that would let us know with certainty that God is there, anywhere, anytime.

The solution, of course, is the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, a model for the two Temples that later would be built in Jerusalem.

Nearly half the book of Exodus is devoted to the detailed description of the Mishkan and all its implements and utensils.  Among others, there’s the enormous, colorfully embroidered tent itself; the Menorah, the altar, the laver of fresh water, the table upon which the bread offering would be laid.  Loving attention is given to the clothing of the Priests, from foot to crown.

Finally, Moses is given the go-ahead to put it all together and make it work.

In reading this portion with all its intricate detail (repeated for us yet again, just to be sure no mistake has crept in during the process of production), I am reminded of the rehearsal I hold with each of my b’nai mitzvah candidates and their families.  I am always moved by the intensity of this moment in my congregants’ lives.  Held a day before the event itself, it is exactly as it should be; this is the culmination, after all, of years of preparation.  Raising a child is no easy task.  Guiding them to this point is quite an achievement.  Moreover, unlike anything else the young adult has ever done before, this event involves him or her to an unprecedented level.  Months of studying and preparation are about to reach a spectacular conclusion.  Guests are coming in from all over, perhaps even from overseas.  Flowers have been ordered, caterers are busy cooking up a storm; new clothes, shoes, uncomfortable suits that sometimes don’t even fit exactly (how do you measure for someone who can sprout several inches in a matter of a few days?).   Yes, the party.  An event so fantastic, designed to make your friends jealous! 

And did I mention gifts? 

We go over the service, making sure everyone has a part, spoken or acted.  We practice chanting the Torah and haftarah, reciting the speech, intoning the ancient blessings.

At some point during the rehearsal, the reality of it all sinks in.  I see the thirteen-year-old sitting there, suddenly speechless, dazed by the enormity of the occasion. I see the parents often struggling to contain their emotions, to stem the rush of memories.  Some run, one last time, over the figures and numbers, astonished at how quickly they add up to a huge sum.

This is what Parashat Pekudei is all about:  The final checklist, leading up to the main event.

As Moses does the final accounting, he looks at each and every piece of the Mishkan.  Finding it done just so, “just as God had commanded Moses, so did the Children of Israel do the work” (Ex. 39:42), Moses, in spiritual exhilaration, turns and blesses the people. 

But this is only the prelude.

Now comes the first “activation” of the Tabernacle.  Moses pours the oil and lights the Menorah; he dresses Aaron and his sons, the priests, in their priestly garments and anoints them.  Then he offers the first public sacrifice ever.

That is when a cloud signifying God’s presence descends and covers the Tabernacle. 

A cloud.

No image of God is permitted.  No physical representation is allowed.  God appears to us in a thick cloud through which no one may peer, not even Moses.

This is the daze we feel when we are up on the bimah, receiving the Torah, chanting from it, describing and teaching its meaning to a new generation.  It’s the feeling we get, one that transcends moment and space and that feels as though we were glowing down to our very fingertips.  It’s God’s Presence within us.

For hundreds, even thousands of generations we have reenacted and relived this moment of dedication.  It is the timeless, ubiquitous Presence we needed—and were granted—at Sinai, as a sign of the Covenant between God and us.  We have followed it in all our journeying around this world, stopping for a while when it stopped, then picking up and marching on again whenever that call would come.

It’s the vision we have all been granted, one and all, for all time; and it is in the Sacred Service we have undertaken upon ourselves, לשרת בקודש, “to serve in the holy.”

© 2014 by Boaz D. Heilman