Recently, I received an absolutely wonderful gift. I imagine that, by now, many of you have heard me talk about our Lostice Torah scroll, which survived the Holocaust, as well as the Lostice Megillah which tells the story of that scroll. Well, a member of the congregation, Craig Shor, worked together with a fabulous artist/carpenter who has created MANY amazing things already for our community (but who doesn’t like when I mention his name…), and they made a box in which to keep our Megillah. You can see it in the pictures associated with this post. I think it looks truly spectacular, and houses (and protects) our precious Megillah marvelously well. It also reminds me a lot of this week’s Torah portion, and the notion of what makes something special, valuable, and even holy.
Our
parashah is called Terumah, and it begins a rather monotonous part of the Biblical text. God gives lengthy and meticulous building instructions, and commands the Israelites to construct a portable Sanctuary to carry with them throughout the desert, known as the
Mishkan, or Tabernacle. Skimming through these blueprints, I find myself wondering: Why does God need all of this? Offering sacrifices previously was done in the open, perhaps on a rock; wasn’t that good enough? And especially when they’re wandering in the wilderness for 40 years, wouldn’t this be an *excellent* time for informal, nature-based worship, rather than constructing heavy, ornately decorated ritual objects that they now have to shlep everywhere they go?? God seems to have become awfully materialistic...
But maybe we're coming at this all wrong. The Israelites' time in the desert probably felt quite structure-less on its own, and perhaps even chaotic. Maybe that is exactly where and why they need something created by people - by themselves even! - to distinguish it from their desert reality. When we look at it that way, we may also understand better why the instructions are *so* precise, intricate, and detailed. The more effort the people put into this project, the more meaningful and unique it would feel to them. The text commands them to build an ark of acacia wood (Ex. 25:10-22), a ceremonial table (vv. 18-30, and a lampstand - a
menorah - made out of gold, with decorations and flourishes all around it (vv. 25:31-40). And the Torah's just getting warmed up! Then there are curtains, cloths, planks, bars, posts, hooks, utensils, and an altar. Which each new item, and each explicit command, the people pour their hearts, souls, effort, time, and talent into this project... and the Tabernacle becomes more and more holy and invaluable to them. It isn't for God; the Mishkan is for the people.
Which brings me back to the box that these two men built for us. We certainly *could* have kept the Megillah in something much more generic and simple. We could even have splurged and bought something ornate, glitzy, and expensive. But what I truly love about this particular box is that it was hand-crafted, FOR this scroll specifically, and with our community in mind. When you look at it up close, you can also see the time and effort that went into each component. Several types of wood were attached to one another to create a beautiful pattern. Each screw is hidden by a wooden dowel, sanded down perfectly smooth. It is lined with felt, and the top is attached with a unique hinge; both of which were carefully selected for just this box. It is really just beautiful! And when I look at it juxtaposed with our text about the Tabernacle, I see how holiness is literally constructed. Piece by piece, minute after minute, and talent heaped upon talent; it all combines to transform something mundane into a ritual and spiritual artifact. What a wonderful hands-on lesson about creating holiness!
Images in this blog post show the new box for our Lostice Megillah. Many thanks, again, to Craig and D** for constructing it!
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