“וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם׃ / Let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell within them.” (Ex. 25:8 – in this week’s Torah portion, T’rumah.)
The word mishkan (the portable dwelling-place for God) shares a root with the word Shechinah, the divine Presence. We build sacred space so God will dwell in us. I talk about this verse every year, because I love it. But this year, what jumps out at me is its juxtaposition with what follows.
Immediately after this verse, Torah tells us to make an ark to hold the tablets of the covenant. Cover it with gold. Put rings on the sides, and poles through the rings. And keep it that way. The ark over which the divine Presence would rest needed to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.
Wherever the people go, holy words and presence go with them — which is to say, with us. As beautiful as the mishkan was (as beautiful as our beloved shul building is) God’s presence doesn’t live there. God’s presence goes with us. Our texts and traditions go with us. Holiness goes with us.
Our ancient ancestors needed perseverance to make their way through the wilderness. I imagine that their perseverance was fueled, in part, by this verse and its assurance that God goes with us wherever we go.
After the Temple fell, our sages called the Shabbat table a mikdash me-at, a small sanctuary. I keep returning to that image during this COVID time. God’s presence is with us at our Shabbes tables tonight. God’s presence is with us when we bless and light candles together-apart, when we bless and break bread together-apart, when we daven together-apart.
The poles were kept in the rings of the ark to teach us that the life of the spirit goes with us wherever we go. God goes with us wherever we go. Holiness goes with us wherever we go. And like our ancient ancestors, we need perseverance to get us through.
Yesterday NASA landed a new robotic rover on Mars, named — as you probably know — Perseverance. Some of you may have watched on the news or online as NASA engineers got word that the rover had safely landed, and celebrated from afar.
I read in the Washington Post earlier this week that “Hitting the 4.8-mile-wide landing site targeted by NASA after a journey of 300 million miles is akin to throwing a dart from the White House and scoring a bull’s eye in Dallas.” It’s honestly incredible.
As is being able to see images from our neighbor planet in realtime. As is the dream that the science this little robot will do — sampling regolith and soil, testing for microbes — will bring us one step closer to someday landing human beings on Mars.
I hope I’m around to celebrate that day — and to see how Judaism will evolve once it becomes interplanetary! Will Jews on Mars turn toward Earth to pray, the way we now orient toward Jerusalem? How will we navigate the fact that a Martian “day” is different from an earth day in calculating Shabbat?
(Although I haven’t researched this, my instinct is to say that Shabbat should be every seventh day, local time, even if that means it’s not coterminous with Shabbat on earth. But that’s another conversation.)
I’m confident that when there are Jews on Mars, we’ll figure out how to build Jewish there…. and that we’ll find this week’s Torah portion resonant when we do.
Because God’s presence is with us when we shelter in place at home now. And God’s presence will go with human beings to Mars someday. And the same spirit that enlivens our Shabbes tables here will enliven us there.
Holiness and hope aren’t geographically limited. They go where we go. And the perseverance that got us through the wilderness is the same perseverance that will take us to the stars.
The poles stayed in the rings on the handles of the ark because God goes with us wherever we go.
As we approach one year since our awareness of the pandemic began, there’s something poignant about the name of this little rover. Perseverance is the quality we need to reach that dream of human beings on Mars.
It’s the quality we need to mitigate climate change and ensure safety and care for our fellow human beings — especially in times of crisis like Texas is experiencing now. And it’s the quality we need to make it to the other side of this global pandemic.
The Hebrew word for Perseverance is הַתמָדָה, which contains within it the root t/m/d, always. As in the ner tamid, the eternal light kept burning in the mishkan, the eternal light that burns now in synagogues around the world.
The ner tamid is a perennial reminder of divine Presence, and holiness, and hope burning bright. The ner tamid perseveres, as our hope perseveres, as our life of the spirit perseveres.
May we take hope and strength from the Mars rover Perseverance. May we find our own perseverance strengthened as we approach the second year of this pandemic. And may we feel the flame of hope burning bright within our hearts — the holy sanctuaries where God’s presence dwells.
This is the d’varling that R. Rachel offered at Shabbat services this evening (cross-posted to Velveteen Rabbi.)