Building A House United: Vayakhel

Building A House United: Vayakhel

D’var Torah by Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

The Book of Exodus, the second in the Five Book of Moses, is filled with miracles and marvels.  Its imagery has captivated humanity for thousands of years, reflected in works of art, sculpture, music, at least one opera and several movies.

There’s no question that the Ten Plagues and the Parting of the Red Sea, the highlights of Exodus, are some of the most brilliant scenes in all literature.  Certainly the giving of the Ten Commandments, incised by God’s own hand on two tablets of stone before an awe-struck Moses, is another such magnificent moment.

But there are other, somewhat less celebrated scenes.  Michaelangelo best captured Moses’s dismay when, descending from Mt. Sinai with the Two Tablets of the Law in his hands, Moses sees the downfall of his people.  Having lost faith in ever seeing Moses again, the Israelites constructed an image of God—a golden calf—and have begun celebrating and offering sacrifices to the idol.  In the famous statue by the great sculptor and architect, Moses’s face reflects anger and pain, but also disbelief.  Only a few weeks had passed since the Israelites saw God’s power and outstretched mighty hand, and already they are swayed in another, much more dangerous path.

The Torah does not give the name of the instigator who directed the ancient Israelites to their spiraling downfall in the desert; it does not identify the ringleader who led the people astray in search of a material god.  Doubtless it was some envious, power-hungry megalomaniac, who sensed the people’s frustration with what they perceived as lack of vision and direction.  Seeing Moses’s long absence as his opportunity to seize control, this false messiah suggested another path, one paved with hate, anger and resentment. Almost blindly, the Israelites began to follow him.  Yet in the end all he succeeded in doing was to cause chaos and destruction.  The rules that governed the young and fragile nation of Israel fell apart—or were set aside—in favor of lawlessness and immorality.  Israel was a house divided, sinking deeper into an abyss of its own creation.

Fortunately, the story of Exodus does not end there.  There are actually two redemptions in Exodus—one brought about by God, the other by Moses and the Israelites.  It’s easy to lose sight of the second redemption, which occurs at the end of the book, and there are a couple of reasons for that.  First, how can anything even begin to compare to the scene of the Red Sea parting?  The storytelling and the visual imagery are nothing short of magnificent, and everything else pales in comparison. But there’s another reason why we don’t always notice the second redemption:  Too many details. Sometimes one loses sight of the forest for the trees, and this is definitely a case in point.

I am speaking of the last four portions of the Book of Exodus, which deal with the construction of the Tabernacle, the portable temple that the Israelites will carry with them as they wander in the Sinai Wilderness for the next forty years.  Quite frankly, these portions are boring.  Step-by-step instructions are given, repeated and reiterated.  Precise measurements are painstakingly specified.  The materials to be used, the forms to be shaped—everything is meticulously detailed, described and labeled.  At first reading, this is no more than a glorified shopping list for a do-it-yourself Home Depot contractor.

And yet, between the lines, hidden in the scrupulous attention to detail and instruction, something truly miraculous begins to happen.

Beyond the magnificence and opulence of the Tabernacle, the most essential quality of this glorious edifice is that it be must be done through volunteerism and the generosity of the people.  No one is commanded to participate; no one is expected to contribute more than the uplift of spirit encourages him or her to do.

Amazingly, everyone has something that they can offer.  From the rarest and most expensive materials, metals and gems, down to the most ordinary resources readily available to everyone in the community; from the highest and most specialized artistry and craftsmanship down to the most common skills—everyone had something to offer, and everyone joyfully offered what they could. 

It was a true miracle!  The Israelites responded to the call for donations and volunteerism and in a way that never happened before or ever would again.  They gave more than was necessary.  Moses actually had to issue a call to halt the non-stop offering—there was already more than enough! 

Now there’s fundraising!  There’s community building!  There is nation building!

This is the story of the second redemption in the book of Exodus.  The first was the freeing of the Israelites from Egyptian bondage.  The second was their astounding rise from the terrible fall they brought upon themselves in the incident of the Golden Calf.  The first redemption was God-made; the second was of their own doing—and I wonder which is the greater.  After all, we can expect miracles from God.  But human-wrought wonders?  A much more difficult feat, in my opinion.

It is a magnificent story.  However, beyond being a tale of miracles and marvels, this week’s Torah portion, Vayakhel (Exodus 35:1—38:20), is also a cautionary tale.  It’s a lesson in good guidance versus dangerous, controlling and misleading leadership.  One leads to recovery and reclamation, the other to chaos and destruction.  It’s a lesson well wrought for our own times.

In this year of national elections, we have been witness to one of the most infantile, raucous and divisive campaigns.  One would expect Presidential candidates to model aspects of the important office of President of the United States of America. Yet what we have been seeing is adults behaving in a way that would not be tolerated in children.  The result has been not only ugly divisiveness but also a dangerous rise and reaffirmation of groups that espouse violence and hatred.  Based on past experiences and the lessons of history, these are dangerous signs.

Democracy may not be perfect, but it is the best system of government that humanity has thus far devised.  It enables every one of us to contribute in whatever way we can—with monetary contributions, with the work of our hands, or simply with words of support and encouragement.  The building and—as necessary—the repair work of our nation should never be disruptive or anarchic.  It should rather bring the people of our nation together.  Vayakhel does not mean merely to gather groups of people.  Rather, Vayakhel means to unite them, to give them purpose, to turn them into a nation.  Moses did that by giving the Israelites a sacred goal—the construction of the Tabernacle.  What he actually succeeded in doing was to bring out the best in each of us.  That is the sign of great leadership, and this is precisely what our leaders should be asking of us.  Not to shun, insult or push away those who disagree with us, but rather to engage us all in dialogue; to enable each of us to bring forth what we can for the common good; and to recognize and thank every citizen for his and her contributions—past and ongoing—to the building, maintenance and constant repair of our nation and country.

This is how you build a house united.  This is how you turn this country—and in fact, the entire world—into a sacred Tabernacle, a place where God’s glory can actually dwell in and be seen by all for all its beauty, grandeur and potential.

That is the true lesson not only of Vayakhel, but also of the entire Book of Exodus—a book that is all about what it means to be free. 

May the words of our mouths, the meditations of our hearts and the deeds of our hands be acceptable in the building of this ever-renewing Tabernacle unto our God.  Amen.

© 2016 by Boaz D. Heilman