By Rabbi Yonina Foster
YHVH, God, tells Moshe, “Va’asuli mikdash, v’shochanti b’tocham.” (“Make for Me a Holy Place so that I may dwell within, among, between them.”) Moshe hears this amid the cloud into which he walked high up on the mountain. In that dream-like place, YHVH invited Moshe, us, deeper into a relationship by contributing to an earthly structure built of gifts from all of us motivated by our hearts.
This year an “Aha!” took me deeper as I realized Moshe was high up on the mountain amid clouds, submerged, when YHVH made the request. In my own dreams clouds obscure meaning and understanding. This beginning of “Terumah” (In English, “raised up portions”) was fol-lowed in great detail throughout the breadth of the portion on how to construct that Sanctuary. This desire for a Sanctuary that YHVH speaks to Moshe about is a dream we each need to dis-cern for ourselves, as well as for the community. What is your gift to the Holy places of your lives?
“Terumah.” Offerings we give. Usually the weekly Torah portion, parsha, is named by the first or second word. Yet this one, counting word pairs, is the ninth—embedded only after other words. YHVH via Moshe, to the Children of Israel, to us through the millennia, crafted a careful request deliberately stated three times in as many verses. It is to all of us, to those whose heart motivates them, to take an offering, one that would uplift the giver in the giving, to build a Sanctuary through communal efforts so that YHVH would dwell in our midst. YHVH descends and ascends, resides, grounds us in that special relationship on this earth. It’s a place where we can be reminded of our call as a priestly and holy people and be encouraged in our mission to create a just society.
It is the dream-state I flashed on as I looked out over the Niagara River while I davened (prayed), in a temporary Mikdash (Sanctuary). We were north of the Peace Bridge in a venue filled with windows that opened to the west. When I arrived to prepare for the Bat Mitzvah I officiated, I walked to the windows. The sun was shining, and I could see Canada, the shoreline dotted with buildings, boats on the water, ducks bobbing up and down. Later when I turned to-ward the river, everything was enshrouded in fog and clouds. Mystery, ethereal. I could have been atop a mountain. Then the fog dissolved and revealed all that bounded the flowing river once again. What was it like for Moshe? There he was on the mountain, dissolved into the clouds hearing YHVH asking us to build a Mikdash for the Creator. The Mikdash where the Shekhina, YHVH’s Feminine Indwelling Presence, would reside, to provide comfort and guid-ance.
A few weeks ago, a friend told me he and his mother both feel their homes are their holy sanc-tuaries. His comment startled me so that I looked across the room at him to make sure I’d heard correctly. For the first time I heard the reverence and clarity held for his home space, a holiness in his mind and heart. It’s the place that grounds him, creates boundaries for his life, makes him feel safe. What I realized next gave me further pause. This friend doesn’t study To-rah and infrequently visits a synagogue. Yet he intimated his home was his holy sanctuary. I humbly realized that the arrangement and order of the space he called home was carefully, purposely designed, in a manner YHVH proposed to Moshe, a dwelling place for YHVH to be with us.
May we each have the capacity to descend from the mountaintop, emerge from the clouds, and build the earthly Holy Sanctuary with gifts from our hearts. May we uplift ourselves and YHVH as we discern the blueprint that holds us in relationship with one another to create more justice, equity, diversity, and inclusion. May our shared sacred mission rise up for love and heal-ing of ourselves and the planet.
Rabbi Yonina is a Jewish Community Support Specialist at JFSWNY.
