I had the opportunity this weekend to hear four rabbis discuss parashah Terumah.
Former President of the World Union for Progessive Judaism, Rabbi Stephen Fuchs, taught that we learn that the ark is to be gilded on the inside and the outside to indicate that we must work to develop ourselves on the inside and not just on how we appear on the outside; that we should strive to make who we are on the inside of pure proverbial gold.
Co-Senior Rabbi of Congregation Emanuel in San Francisco, Rabbi Jonathan Singer, commented that G-d has given us a blueprint, but it is our job to follow it to build the society G-d wants; that if we follow all of the instructions that have been given to us we can come closer to G-d.
Director of the Religious Action Center, Rabbi David Saperstein, said that the punchline of this parashah is at the beginning: וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם
“and they will make me a mikdash and I will dwell among them.” The “them” here is the Israelites. G-d dwells not in the mikdash but among the people. G-d is not out of reach, but among us.
Senior Rabbi of Netivot Shalom in Berkeley, Rabbi Menachem Creditor, noted that the parashah indicates that the details matter and that often we find G-d in the details. He also suggested that this parashah should lead us to consider the impact of wealth on our relationship with G-d and each other.
It seems to me that much of the spirit of this parashah stands as a paradoxical partner with the previous parashah, Yitro. In Yitro, we learn that the altar G-d wants is of the earth and of unhewn stones. In Terumah, we are told to build a gilded ark of all the finest materials. While the mishkan and altar are not identical, these sets of directions seem not to go well together. The previous parashah tells us not to make any images of G-d and this parashah tells us to craft cherubim. While cherubim are not G-d it bothers our sensitivities around the issue of not making likenesses of the divine.
How do we reconcile these seemingly contradictory messages? Are we to decide between the two parashot? Is it like the directions we often give 5th graders to teach them to follow directions – the one with 15 items that I first saw in Sandra Zendlovitz’s, z’l 5th grade class:
1) Read all the directions first before you write anything.
2) Write your name and the date.
3) Write a paragraph about the house you live in.
4) Write a sentence about the ocean.
5) Write a ten line poem about the sky.
…
15) Complete only item number one?
After all, we have seen in previous passages that we are not to blindly follow all dicta, but to follow the example of Abraham and Moses who argue with G-d. Throughout the Torah we receive the message that we are responsible for understanding G-d’s will. I wrote about the Torah’s message to us on this subject in my post about Yitro (see Yitro 2014, subheading “Empowered Relative to Leadership”). We are to be a kingdom of priests without intermediaries. It is up to us to make sense of G-d’s instruction.
It seems unlikely that this parashah would be entirely a test of us and that we are intended to ignore it outright. Rather, we must make sense of the paradox. After all, there is indeed something beautiful about the idea that we bring our very best to carry that which symbolized both our connection to G-d and our peoplehood – the ark. There is indeed something beautiful about the notion Rabbi Fuchs suggests that we gild the inside and outside of the ark and ourselves; as Rabbi Singer suggests that the blueprints G-d offers are complex and they are for us to make sense of; as Rabbi Saperstein suggests that G-d dwells among us after we have put in collective and substantial effort; as Rabbi Creditor suggests that we often find G-d in the details and that G-d is with us everywhere we go as a community.
How do we reconcile these instructions to have an altar of earth and no images of the Almighty with the instructions to build an elaborate gilded ark with cherubim? I have not figured it out yet. It reminds me of the teaching of the early Chasidic leader Rabbi Simcha Bunim that we should always have in one pocket a paper that says “I am but dust and ashes.” and in the other pocket a paper that says “The world was created for my sake.” We are wise to be present with not just our individual but our collective humility and humanity, our fragility and our strength. Still, this does not satisfy me, and I welcome help reconciling this paradox.