Dear TBZ Community,
Another difficult week comes to an end. I imagine many of us feel the heavy burden of these painful times — both here in the United States, where the threats to democracy feel ever more present and each day seems worse and harder to bear, and in Israel, where the heartbreaking restart of war and the end of the ceasefire have left us raw and unsettled. For the families of the hostages who are now left without hope of their return, for the hundreds of Palestinians (including children) who have died in the past few days, for the young Israeli soldiers now risking their lives in a war that has lost its purpose and offers no clear vision for a peaceful future… The sense of helplessness is overwhelming.
In moments like these, it’s easy to feel that what we face is impossible, that the work of healing, of peace, of justice, is beyond our grasp.
And yet, this week’s Torah portion, Vayakhel, offers a powerful reminder that the impossible can, in fact, become possible.
At the very beginning of the parasha, we read in Exodus 35:1-2:
וַיַּקְהֵל מֹשֶׁה, אֶת-כָּל-עֲדַת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל–וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵהֶם: אֵלֶּה, הַדְּבָרִים, אֲשֶׁר-צִוָּה יְהוָה, לַעֲשֹׂת אֹתָם.שֵׁשֶׁת יָמִים, תֵּעָשֶׂה מְלָאכָה, וּבַיּוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי יִהְיֶה לָכֶם קֹדֶשׁ שַׁבַּת שַׁבָּתוֹן, לַיהוָה; כָּל-הָעֹשֶׂה בוֹ מְלָאכָה, יוּמָת.
Moses then convoked the whole Israelite community and said to them: These are the things that Adonai has commanded you to do: On six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have a sabbath of complete rest, holy to Adonai.
Why does the Torah place Shabbat at the very beginning of the instructions for building the Mishkan (tabernacle)? Rabbi Art Green, in an article exploring the connection between Shabbat and Mishkan, asks: “How could Temple and Shabbat, two seemingly unrelated institutions of ancient Judaism, be so linked?”
Rabbi Green answers by quoting the Talmud (Berakhot 55a):
Rav Judah in the name of Rav teaches that Bezalel, architect of the tabernacle, “knew how to perform those permutations of letters through which heaven and earth were created.” Why should Bezalel, of all people (not Moses or Aaron), be privy to this secret? The tradition makes sense only if his single task [building the Mishkan] is somehow linked to the act of Creation.
A midrash deepens this idea by connecting each detail of the Mishkan’s construction to a day of creation. Six days of creation, followed by Shabbat; six days of building the Mishkan, followed by Shabbat. Just as God created the universe out of chaos, the Israelites were able to create sacred space out of the wilderness, something seemingly impossible.
And here is another connection: After the act of creation, there is rest. After God creates the world, God rests on the seventh day and that rest sanctifies the act of creation. Likewise, after the Israelites complete the Mishkan — this human echo of divine creation — Shabbat becomes the moment of rest that sanctifies their sacred work. Shabbat is not just a pause from building; it is what gives meaning to the act of creation itself. Creation without Shabbat is unfinished. The Mishkan without Shabbat would be merely a structure. It is Shabbat that transforms the Mishkan into a dwelling place for holiness.
What strikes me is that the building of the Mishkan required two things: generosity and obligation. The Torah tells us that everyone whose heart was moved brought gifts of gold, silver, and fabrics, whatever they were inspired to give. But we also learn from the Torah reading for Shabbat Shekalim, which we read a few weeks ago, that there was an obligatory gift: the half-shekel that every person was required to give equally. Building sacred community, being part of the creative process of this world, demands both: the offering of our unique gifts and the shared responsibility of showing up, even when it’s hard.
Last night, I left our beautiful sanctuary, our beautiful mishkan at TBZ, inspired by the words of Adv. Hanan Al-Sanah, who was a guest of NIF and whom we were honored to host at TBZ. Hanan is the director of the Center for Bedouin Women’s Rights at Itach-Ma’aki and has devoted her life to empowering Bedouin communities, especially women, in the Negev. After October 7, when despair might have been the most natural response, she took action, organizing aid for both Jewish and Bedouin communities, including families in unrecognized villages, securing shelter, food, and medical support for those most vulnerable. (You can read more about her work here.)
At some point last night, she said:
“I believe in making the impossible possible.”
I was in tears.
Hanan’s work — like the building of the Mishkan — is an act of creation. In the face of brokenness, of loss, of impossibility, she began to build. And she continues and doesn’t give up. Piece by piece. Step by step. In doing so, she becomes a partner with God — helping to shape a world where healing and justice are possible.
This week is also Shabbat Parah (Sabbath of the [Red] Heifer), one of the special Shabbatot (Sabbaths) leading us toward Pesach (Passover). On Shabbat Parah, we read from a second Torah scroll about the ritual of the Parah Adumah — the red heifer. The red heifer ritual is mysterious and paradoxical. It is described as a means of purification: the ashes of the red heifer were mixed with water and used to purify those who had come into contact with death. And yet, those involved in preparing the ashes themselves became impure in the process.
How do we make sense of this? Perhaps Shabbat Parah teaches us that healing and purification are not clean or easy. Just as the Israelites needed to confront the reality of death and impurity in order to become pure, we too are called to face the brokenness in our world — the fear, the division, the violence — in order to create healing. The ritual of the red heifer reminds us that healing requires engagement. It’s messy. It’s imperfect. It’s brutal. But it is possible.
We are living in a time when so much feels impossible. The divisions in our society, the unraveling of norms, the suffering and violence, the injustices, the leadership without vision (or perhaps with a vision that serves only ego and power rather than the people they are meant to serve)… It’s overwhelming.
But Torah teaches us that building sacred space, building a holy community, happens piece by piece. Just as God created the world day by day, we too create sacredness one step at a time, through both inspiration and obligation. God created the world; we are commanded to build the Mishkan. That building is a mirror of creation itself: a reminder that the world must be created again and again, every day, by our hands and with our hearts.
May this Shabbat bring us peace, strength, and clarity. May we find the courage to forgive, heal, and move forward together, knowing we do not walk this journey alone.
May God grant blessings and comfort to all of us and our loved ones. May we discover strength, courage, and patience, and may our hearts be open to generosity.
May those who are ill find healing.
May all the remaining hostages soon return to their families and friends. May peace prevail, and may our leaders prioritize life.
May those working for peace be granted the strength and courage to continue their sacred work, and may we soon witness peace and dignity for all.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia