Creating a Holy Congregation
D’var Torah for Parashat Vayak’hel
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
March 20, 2025
The common witticism has it that where there are two Jews, there are three opinions. While amusing, the saying actually implies that at least one of the two Jews might hold two opinions about the matter they're discussing. Or that there might even be a third possible outcome (or more that no one had thought of yet). The joke can also suggest that Jews are argumentative and can never agree. It all depends on the point of view of the participants, who makes the final decision, and who's telling the joke. It isn't always a positive stereotype.
While we laugh and perhaps agree with the observation, it's a fact that our holy texts are filled with arguments. Some are strictly between individuals, others may be divisive issues among us as a society, and of course there are the arguments we have with God. And settling an argument wasn't always peaceful. Whatever Cain and Abel argued about (and the Torah leaves that up to our imagination), the end was that Abel lost his life. The Talmud tells us about Hillel and Shammai--two of the most influential early rabbis of the first century--whose disputes are legendary (including how to light the Hanukkah menorah, and how to place the mezuzah on our doorposts). While relations between the two rabbis themselves were said to be friendly and even warm, their students, Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai (the School of Hillel and the School of Shammai), often fought among themselves, until "a Divine Voice emerged and proclaimed: Both these and those are the words of the living God" (Talmud, Eruvin 13b). Making peace around issues we're passionate about isn't always simple. Sometimes we can work out a compromise. But at other times, it's important to understand that different opinions can be equally valuable. Being able to see an issue from various angles is advantageous, as it helps us make decisions based on a wider perspective, while at the same time enabling us to think ahead and visualize the possible outcomes of our decisions and choices.
But the Torah also describes those rare occasions when the Israelites unite "as one voice." In Exodus 19, and again in chapter 24, when the Israelites are offered the Ten Commandments, they reply "as one," נעשה ונשמע--"All that Adonai has spoken we will faithfully do!" (JPS 2006).
In this week's Torah portion, Vayak'hel ("Moses assembled," Exodus 35:1--38:20) we have yet another example. After receiving the instructions for building the Tabernacle, Moses repeats them to the Israelites. What follows is almost miraculous. In almost two full chapters, the Torah describes how everyone in the congregation brought in what they could: "Every man and woman, all whose hearts moved them to bring anything for the work that Adonai... had commanded to be done, brought it as a freewill offering to Adonai" (Ex. 35:29). Material goods such as gemstones, gold, silver, copper and brass, expensive dyes, tanned skins and woven tapestries, were brought forth voluntarily, while those individuals whose talents lay in construction, weaving or any other kind of labor donated their particular "wisdom of the heart," their unique abilities. Amazingly, but not surprisingly given all that cooperation, the contributions exceeded all expectations, and an order was issued for the donations to stop. A fundraiser's dream!
But the beauty of this story is found not only in the generosity and good will that the people showed. It's in the timing. The story of the construction of the Tabernacle follows on the heels of the incident of the Golden Calf, considered by many the greatest sin perpetrated by the Israelites against God. At this point in the storyline, the Israelites not only show their remorse; they engage in repair of the damage. They participate in what the Rabbis call tikkun, healing and transformation. That's what the construction of the Tabernacle was really all about.
Vayak'hel actually begins with a reminder to observe the holiness of Shabbat. In a more contemporary discussion about Shabbat, the question comes up, how should we greet one another on Shabbat. There are, naturally, two opinions. While the Ashkenazi (eastern European) tradition is to say "gut Shabbos" (Yiddish for "good Shabbat") the more common greeting today is Shabbat shalom--a Sabbath of peace. Why is peace greater than good (especially with the understanding that the Torah uses the word "good" to describe God's work, basically giving a new meaning to "good” — "holy")? Because making peace—shalom—is actually the most difficult and therefore the most important mitzvah of all. Sometimes peace has to be imposed from above, by an outside, greater force. Ideally however, shalom means repairing, mending, fixing that which is broken and making it whole again. The building of the Tabernacle in the Wilderness was such a project. It brought peace and unity to the entire people, which just so recently was riven by anger and frustration. The very act of terumah, the freewill donations that the people bring forth, in which everyone participates, is sacred. It expresses our people's ultimate achievement, a sacred assembly in which everyone steps up, each bringing their unique talent and gift in order to create a sacred space, a place where everyone is equal, in which everyone's contribution counts equally, a place where everyone is welcome and where peace—shalom—may be found.
Vayak'hel, the penultimate portion of the book of Exodus, is one of those rare occasions in which we see the myriads of individual Israelites—diverse, opinionated, stubborn and obstinate—come together as one. Their common mission transforms them from the "mixed multitude" that they were when they came out of Egypt into a kehillat kodesh, a holy congregation. They are made holy through the work that they do, through the freewill offerings that they bring forth, and through their acceptance of one another as equal partners in this sacred, collective mission.
We may still argue and debate, discuss and dispute. Yet our commitment to our traditions and the many and varied contributions we make to our temple and community also continue to unite us, thousands of years after the wondrous example set for us in the Torah.
© 2025 by Boaz D. Heilman
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