Parshat Trumah 5784 (2024)

Has anyone here ever watched a movie with so many flashbacks that sometimes you wonder about in what order things actually occurred? If you’ve ever watched a David Lynch film, like Lost Highway or Mulholland Drive, you sort of give up trying to figure out what happened when.

While we read the Torah in a specific order, our rabbis actually teach us that the Torah is not necessarily written in the same order that things historically occurred. So, the Torah is not chronological. This lack of chronology is referred to in Hebrew as “ain mukdmn v’ein m’uchar batorah.”

One of the most famous examples of the rabbis trying to figure out in what order something actually happened intersects with this week’s parshah, Terumah, when God commands the Israelites to pool their resources together in order to build the Mishkan, the tabernacle, which would function as God’s physical house in this world.

The commandment to build the mishkan, and the sin of the golden calf, are intertwined. However, not everyone agrees in which order every specific thing happened.

According to the order in which the text is written, God commanded us to build the Mishkan before the sin of the Golden calf. Though, we did not build it until after we first sinned, and then repented. However, Rashi changes the order. He states that not only the building, but also the COMMAND to build the mishkan came after the sin and the repentance.

Now, you might ask why is this even important? Why does it matter if the commandment to build the Mishkan came before or after we committed the sin of idolatry?

 I’ll give you my own explanation as to why it matters, and why that leads me to personally side with Rashi, and assert that the text must be written out of order here.

You see, Judaism, Jewishness, as I say all the time, is about acknowledging the fact that there is something must deeper to this universe that we cannot see. Whether we use the word “God” to describe what that mystery behind this all is, or we use another word—we affirm the fact that there is a deeper level to reality that we cannot grasp. That is the core and foundation of what being a Jew, what DOING Jewish means.

Idolatry, is exactly the opposite of that. It poses that divinity is physical, embodied in statues and pictures of gods. While most Jews in the modern world cannot grasp what idolatry in the ancient world actually looked like, Jews in Taiwan can. Walk around any street corner and you can find a small shrine or a huge temple housing multiple statues believed to contain divine spirits.

And, while many of the more erudite clerics of both Buddhism and Daoism believe that the statues are just that—statues—the average ama burning incense for her son to get into Taida university or marry his high school sweet heart believes that the statues themselves to have some sort of divine power within them.

 Our ancestors, when they committed the sin of the golden calf, made that same mistake. After witnessing God’s power, surviving the ten plagues, walking across the split sea—they then built a physical statue—a golden calf—to house divinity. And for that they were greatly punished.

 So, what does this have to do with the chronology of the tabernacle and the calf?

Remember, according to the text, the commandment to build the tabernacle came before the sin of the calf, but Rashi disagrees, and states that the commandment came after. Also remember, I am arguing for Rashi’s point.

The reason I say that Rashi must be correct, and the entire idea of building the tabernacle—a physical house to house the presence of God—was because God realized that we were not yet up to the task to relate to the Divine without physical paraphernalia.

You see, God had hoped that, after experience the awesome power of the Divine through so many miracles and revelations, that the Jewish people would be up to the task to directly relate to God. Directly from their heart and soul.

However, when Moses was just a day late from coming down the mountain, we built a golden idol to house the divine. This showed God that we were too immature to relate to His invisible incorporeal presence without visible, corporeal signs of that presence.

So, in order to sort of slowly ween us off of idolatry, of that need for corporeality, He commanded us to build a house for Him. A physical house with a gold menorah to light, altars upon which to burn incense and make sacrifices. A house of worship very similar to those of other religions, with the only real difference being that it would not contain a physical representation of Divinity.

Thus, God had hoped we would not need to build Him a physical house. We would not need all of these trappings of common religiosity in order to remain true to our covenant. However, we showed God that we did, in fact, need all of these things. So, He ordered us to build the Mishkan in which to house the Divine presence which lives everywhere.

God had no need of a house. We’re the ones who needed to build one for God. We see this from the verse where God commands us to build the Tabernacle, which states “asu li mikdash, v’shachanti betocham,” “build for me a house so that I will live inside of THEM.” Inside of THEM, betocham, not inside the houe.

This lesson is so important to us as members of the TJC. While we may not have a gorgeous tabernacle with huge stained glass, the Divine definitely dwells within all of us here. How many gorgeous synagogues, with dozens of rows of pews, are empty all year except for the high holidays?

And while, of course, it would be nice to have a bigger and nicer space, if we learn anything from Rashi’s reading of the chronology of the sin of the golden calf and commandment to build the mishkan, is that it is our relationship, our active engagement with the Jewish tradition that is what matters. As I like to say, “Jews before pews.”

 So, after services, as we rearrange our folding chairs, pull out our folding tables, and I push back this shtender, let us do so with pride. Take pride in this space. While it might not be the most corporeally impressive, what happens here is truly magical. Before you leave, make sure to clean up a bit. Even if it isn’t your mess, perhaps God left that mess there for you to have an extra mitzvah to perform. So let us all take pride in this space that houses our Taiwan Jewish Community, for this is certainly a space where God dwells within those who gather here.

 Shabbat Shalom.

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Parshat Tetzaveh 5784 (2024)

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Parshat Bo 5784 (2024)