What would you think if I said build me a house so that I can live with you? Most people wouldn’t even be able to hear the second part of the question, we’d all get stuck on the build me a house part. You’d probably think, build you a house?!?!?! What are you crazy?!?!?!? We’d be so distracted by the first part of the question that we wouldn’t even consider the irrational nature of the second part of the question. Build me a house so that I can live with you. Seriously? You want me to build you a house so that you can then move in with me?!??!? The least you could do if you’re asking me to build you a house is live there and stay away from me.
Despite the seemingly ridiculousness of this question when you imagine one person asking it to another person, it doesn’t seem bother us as much when the question is being asked to us by God. But I think it should. The classic question asked by many commentators in this week’s Parsha is: why does the verse say “and I will dwell among them,” when grammatically it should have said, “and I will dwell in it.”
Often this question gets focused on so much that we don’t ask about anything else. A few of the questions I have are: In the verse immediately following the command for the Jewish people to build God a sanctuary, it says that we should make it according to God’s design. If God has a plan for what he wants and we believe that God can do anything, why does God need us to go through the trouble of building it ourselves? Why doesn’t God just build it and leave us alone? If God’s wants this sanctuary so that God can, as the verse says, dwell among us, what difference does it make who actually builds it?
I’d like to suggest a possible answer which I think answers all of the above questions. I think the answer is precisely because God wants us to do the work. It is not the final product that really matters; it’s the work that is done. This is something that is obvious to most of us. Judaism puts a stress on the actions that we do more than the outcome. We are a religion that is more concerned with the day to day, rather than being preoccupied with the afterlife. It is the act of building which brings God into our midst. It would defeat the purpose for God to do the work himself, the whole point of it is for us to do the work. It is our participation in the creation that God desires.
This is not only true with regard to building a sanctuary for God. That is just a symbol for us. The sanctuary, in Jewish tradition, is often discussed as being a microcosm of the world. Therefore whatever is true about building the sanctuary is only small scale example of a larger lesson. The message I really want to get across is that God has made the world in such a way that we are his partners in creation. Everything we do is important; big or small, good or bad, any act that we do has a consequence.
We all know this, but how often are we mindful of it? How often do we think that we can cut corners or try to get away with something because we think that no one will notice? How often do we act without thinking about what the outcome of that action could be?
Jewish life is based on a code of laws which we call Halacha, which means a path or a way of going. The focus of Jewish life is on what we do, it’s the way we go, but tradition teaches us that everything we do is accentuated and enhanced when it is coupled with Kavannah, intellectual and emotional intention. The kabbalists teach that everything we do makes an impact on the world, and therefore we need to be really careful with our actions. We need to think about the possible outcomes of our actions, what will be their possible effect on others or the world around us, and we need to make plans so that we can achieve the best possible outcome for everything that we do.
I think that this lesson is hinted at in another part of this week’s Parsha. One of the main supplies needed to build the sanctuary was wood. The question is, how could the Jewish people have built the Mishkan, with all of its required wood, in the middle of a desert where there were no trees? Rashi tells us that Jacob, foreseeing the time that the Jewish people might need the wood, planted trees which the Jewish people chopped down and took out of Egypt with them on their way out. What interests me about this is not whether this is a historically accurate event or not, but the moral of this story. The story shows us that the Jewish people were only able to do what they needed to do because of conscious act of foresight and planning generations earlier.
If we think about what’s going on in Egypt. One of the things that is captivating us, what all the talk shows and news analysts have been discussing is: what’s going to happen? One of the problems we have with understanding the outcome of the events in Egypt is that the people have done a great job organizing and making the point that something needs to happen, but no one has prepared for a next step. There hasn’t been a plan on how to transfer power, who will be in power, what their policies will be. The fear that the Muslim brotherhood will takeover is in part because they are one of the only organized opposition groups. So the whole world has been watching anxiously for a hint about what will happen next. Seizing power is one thing, knowing what to do with it once you get it is another. Many revolutions have failed because they were not adequately prepared to actually do the necessary work of governing.
In conclusion, I want to reiterate that this lesson isn’t a new insight into life; it’s a restatement of something we all know but don’t always think about. God desires our participation in this world; Everything we do matters; we need to act in a way that reflects this point. May we all be blessed with the ability to recognize the importance of our actions, to take the time and effort to consider the impact of our actions, and the ability to act with foresight and purpose, and may we be lucky enough to see the goodness of our actions come to fruition.
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