Dear TBZ Community,
On Monday, I joined a group of rabbis from T’ruah: The Rabbinic Call for Human Rights for a day of learning and mutual support during these challenging times. It was an opportunity to receive training on pressing issues, particularly concerning the assault on democracy, the attack on LGBTQ+ individuals and rights, the strike against undocumented immigrants, and the onslaught on racial justice. We engaged in meaningful discussions to deepen our understanding of the role we can play as religious leaders in this moment.
Rabbi Jill Jacobs, CEO of T’ruah, opened the day with a profound teaching from Torah that has resonated deeply with me this week. As I offer my reflections on this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Terumah, I will recount some of her insights as well.
Parshat Terumah describes the building of the Tabernacle, the mishkan. The narrative is rich with detail, describing each gift accepted for its construction. It encompasses an intriguing array of materials: gold, silver, and copper; blue, purple, and crimson yarns; fine linen, goats’ hair; tanned ram skins, dolphin skins, and acacia wood; oil for lighting, oils for anointing; spices and aromatic incense; lapis lazuli and other stones for setting, for the ephod, and for the breastpiece.
Yes, you read that correctly: dolphin skins, acacia wood…
As one might expect, the rabbis pose a pressing question: “Where did the people of Israel acquire all this material?” After all, they were in the desert!
Various midrashim (biblical exegesis) offer different interpretations of how the Israelites procured these items to contribute to the building of the mishkan. Most of these interpretations attribute their acquisition to miraculous occurrences. Indeed, miracles would be necessary to find dolphin skins in the desert! However, one midrash takes a different approach. In Midrash Tanchuma 9:14, regarding the source of the cedar beams, we learn:
וּמֵהֵיכָן הָיוּ הַקְּרָשִׁים? יַעֲקֹב אָבִינוּ נָטַע אוֹתָם בְּשָׁעָה שֶׁיָּרַד לְמִצְרַיִם. אָמַר לְבָנָיו: בָּנַי, עֲתִידִים אַתֶּם לְהִגָּאֵל. מִכָּאן, וְהַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא עָתִיד לוֹמַר לָכֶם מִשֶּׁאַתֶּם נִגְאָלִין, שֶׁתַּעֲשׂוּ לוֹ אֶת הַמִּשְׁכָּן, אֶלָּא עִמְדוּ וְנִטְעוּ אֲרָזִים מֵעַכְשָׁו, שֶׁבְּשָׁעָה שֶׁיֹּאמַר לָכֶם לַעֲשׂוֹת לוֹ אֶת הַמִּשְׁכָּן, יִהְיוּ הָאֲרָזִים מְתֻקָּנִים לָכֶם. מִיָּד עָמְדוּ וְנָטְעוּ וְעָשׂוּ כֵּן.
Where did the cedar beams come from? Jacob our patriarch planted them when he descended to Egypt. He told his children: “My sons, you will ultimately be redeemed from this place, and the Holy One, blessed be He, will say to you: ‘You will be redeemed,’ so that you may build a Sanctuary for Him. Therefore, go plant cedar trees now so that when He commands you to erect a Sanctuary, beams of cedar will be available. Immediately, they arose, planted, and acted as he commanded.”
This powerful midrash suggests that the necessary elements for constructing the mishkan already existed! The materials were present; the people simply needed to find and choose to use them. In another midrash, Genesis Rabbah 94, we learn that the cedars Jacob planted actually came from his grandfather Abraham!
In the tractate of Megillah 13b in the Talmud, we find a teaching by Reish Lakish:
דְּאָמַר רֵישׁ לָקִישׁ: אֵין הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא מַכֶּה אֶת יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶלָּא אִם כֵּן בּוֹרֵא לָהֶם רְפוּאָה תְּחִילָּה.
Reish Lakish said: The Holy One does not strike at Israel unless God has already created a remedy for them beforehand.
This teaching suggests a similar notion: the elements for healing already exist among us. They are not miraculous gifts; they simply need to be discovered.
This is how I interpreted Rabbi Jacobs’ teaching: In times when we observe a world crumbling before our eyes, our tradition frequently reminds us of the miracles we have witnessed. Yet it also reassures us that what we need to repair, to heal, to build, to create, lies within us. It already exists. We possess the tools, the ingredients, the components, and the strength. Our work is to access and utilize them!
This Shabbat is particularly special: we will read from three Torah scrolls as we celebrate the new month of Adar and Shabbat Shekalim. Shabbat Shekalim marks the first of four special shabbatot (sabbaths) leading up to Passover. Two of these occur in the weeks leading up to Purim, and the other two in the weeks prior to Passover. On Shabbat Shekalim, we read a special maftir from Exodus 30:11-16, which describes the request for each adult male Israelite to contribute half a shekel for the upkeep of the tabernacle, the mishkan.
One understanding of the requirement for each person to contribute half a shekel (and not more or less) is that it necessitates a partnership—someone else must contribute the other half to create a whole. To build the tabernacle, collaboration is essential; we need others to create something complete. Moreover, it underscores the principle that everyone brings the same amount, emphasizing that we are all equally valuable and make equal contributions to our community. No half shekel holds greater importance than another.
Perhaps by integrating these teachings, we can strengthen the notion that as we tap into the inherent strength within ourselves to build, repair, heal, and create, we do not do so alone. I bring my part, my cedar planted by my ancestors, and you contribute your half, enriched by the many strengths passed down from those who came before you.
As we welcome the new month of Adar, a time when we are commanded to increase our joy in preparation for the holiday of Purim, we may find it challenging amidst so much brokenness and mourning. How do we embrace this season following the heart-wrenching funerals of Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir Bibas, Oded Lifshitz, and the return of four more bodies of hostages—Shlomo Mantzur, Tsachi Idan, Itzhak Elgarat, and Ohad Yahalomi? How do we increase our joy when trust in a second phase of this fragile cease-fire is tenuous, as we seek an end to the war in Gaza and hope for an alleviation of suffering for Palestinians? How do we welcome Adar while fearing for the future of our democracy?
Perhaps we can view Adar as an opportunity to assess the strengths within ourselves—the strength and tools that each of us, both individually and collectively, can bring to build a world where God can reside within us.
וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם
And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.
This is what we can do.
This is what we are called to do.
This is what we must do.
May this Shabbat bring us peace, strength, and clarity. May we find the courage to forgive, heal, and move forward together, knowing that 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 open our hearts generously. May those who are ill find healing.
May all 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