דַּבֵּר֙ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְיִקְחוּ־לִ֖י תְּרוּמָ֑ה מֵאֵ֤ת כּל־אִישׁ֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר יִדְּבֶ֣נּוּ לִבּ֔וֹ תִּקְח֖וּ אֶת־תְּרוּמָתִֽי׃…וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם׃
Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart is so moved… And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them [or: within them]. (Ex. 25:2, 8)
This week in our ancestral story we begin building the Mishkan, a portable home for God. Torah will spend the next several weeks describing the blueprints for, and then the building of, this holy place for the divine Presence. Midrash regards the mishkan as not only a blueprint for the Temple but also a microcosm of the world, and teaches that in a cosmic sense God planned at the very beginning of creation that we would build it – for God’s sake, and also for our own.
Some renderings of how the mishkan might have looked.
“Let them make Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell within them.” In Hebrew the word used here, mishkan, literally means a dwelling-place for God. Shekhinah (the divine Presence) dwells in the mishkan (sanctuary) – those words share a root. In English, the word sanctuary can mean both the physical structure (as in our synagogue sanctuary) and also a sense of safety and acceptance, as in “I seek sanctuary.” A sanctuary is both a sacred space, and a safe space.
When we create sanctuary, God dwells within us. I think the inverse is also true: if we take sanctuary away – if we make someone unsafe; if we refuse them shelter and care – we are pushing God away. It is a fundamental tenet of Judaism that we are all made in the divine image and likeness. When we create a space where it’s safe to be who we are, we are making space for God. When it is unsafe to be our whole selves, God’s presence is diminished.
For some of us, right now, a lot of places are increasingly unsafe. Both Charlotte Clymer and Erin Reed have been writing about the last month’s anti-trans executive orders, passports being confiscated, erasure of resources, and legislation to remove protection from discrimination. Standing by as civil rights protections for our trans siblings are removed goes against the grain of Jewish values and, as my friend R. Mike Moskowitz teaches, also against Jewish law.
If these things impact you, you already know all of this and I am preaching to the proverbial choir. If they don’t impact you, you may not have thought much about them, or may not be aware of them. It’s easy not to feel the slings and arrows that are aimed at someone else. I’m inviting those of us who aren’t impacted by this specific form of prejudice to empathize with those of us who are – and, fueled by that empathy, to act. That’s what Judaism asks of us.
If we want our community to be a mishkan, a dwelling-place for God*, then it has to be a safe dwelling place for God’s children in the infinite range of human diversity, including diverse expressions of gender and sexuality. (*Whatever God means to each of us, God far above or deep within. As always, if the “G-word” doesn’t speak to you, find one that does. Justice, Meaning, Truth, Integrity: all of these ask us to strengthen our Jewish values in these times.)
If we want our community to be a mishkan, a dwelling-place for God*, then it has to be a safe dwelling place for God’s children no matter where they come from. The Reform movement has been actively engaging in this work for decades. As Jews, we have very clear instructions on how to treat every immigrant and refugee. We are commanded to “love the stranger for we were strangers in the land of Egypt.” Torah tells us this 36 times: that’s how important this mitzvah is.
This weekend has been designated as Refugee Shabbat by HIAS, the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society. HIAS builds its work on Torah’s teaching that we’re commanded to love the stranger because our people know the heart of the stranger. We’re commanded to care for the immigrant and the refugee because our people have been immigrants and refugees. This mitzvah links us back to the Exodus, which is the foundational story of who we are as a people.
In the last month, HIAS has joined the Reform, Conservative, and Reconstructionist movements in challenging the decision to allow ICE to enter schools and houses of worship. The places where we learn and pray should be safe spaces for everyone. In welcoming immigrants and refugees we live out the Jewish value of hakhnasat orhim, welcoming the stranger, as exemplified by the patriarch Abraham whose tent was open on all sides in welcome.
Rhetoric suggesting that immigrants are “invaders” harms not only immigrant communities but the fabric of our country as a whole. (That rhetoric was also behind the massacre at Tree of Life in Pittsburgh. That synagogue was attacked because they are welcoming to immigrants and refugees.) And the scarcity mentality that says we can’t afford to help others is profoundly un-Jewish. In our tradition even those who receive tzedakah are also obligated to give.
Some renderings of the ark topped with two keruvim.
A few verses after the verse saying “let them build Me a sanctuary that I might dwell within them,” Torah describes a pair of golden keruvim – that’s a kind of winged angel. We’re instructed to make a pair of keruvim atop the ark, facing each other. Once they’re built, God’s voice will emerge from the space between them. I think this comes to remind us that we find God in relationship. We hear God when we listen into the relational space between us.
Martin Buber taught that God is present when we relate to one another in an I/Thou way: treating the other human being as a sacred facet of God, just as we are. This is the opposite of dehumanization. When this is our way of being in the world, our obligations to each other are luminous and clear. Every immigrant and refugee and displaced person is a Thou, worthy of infinite care. So is every human being of every gender expression. So are all of us
In the coming week, may we find God’s presence between and among and within us.
May we feel moved to give what we can, to do what we can, to create a home for God – which means creating safety for each other.
And may we make space for God by working toward a community that’s a safe place for all.
I reached out to CBI members who are active in supporting immigrants locally, asking them for actions we could take in the new week, and here’s what they sent me:
- Volunteer with Jewish Family Service of Western MA, Berkshire Immigrant Center, or BASIC.
- Join Greylock Together’s newly formed Immigrant Support action team which will be focusing on Northern Berkshire.
- Ask local schools, town boards, and elected officials what they are doing to support immigrants. (There are three relevant bills currently going before the MA legislature; member Wendy Penner can share more information if you’re interested.)
- If you have friends or neighbors who are immigrants, reach out to them. Tell them you are glad they are here, and let them know you want to find a way to affirm and support them, their loved ones, and the larger immigrant community.
And here are two suggested actions from HIAS:
- Tell Congress: VOTE NO on Mass Deportation and Detention! – HIAS.org
- Tell Congress: We must resume critical humanitarian programs now! – HIAS.org
You can find other action items at HIAS.org.
This is the d’var Torah that Rabbi Rachel offered at Kabbalat Shabbat services (cross-posted to Velveteen Rabbi)
