The following d'var Torah was given by Karen Taylor on March 18 2023 for parshat Vayakhel-Pekudei
This week's parsha describes the “building of the traveling Mishkan.” Maybe you’ll be helped in understanding this through the translation of mishkan to tabernacle. … or maybe not. Tabernacle is about as meaningful a term to me as pinochle, a word I definitely misspelled when typing this out. They are familiar to me as kind of funny words I’ve heard over my life, and yes, I know of the former that it’s some kind of tent business and I know of the latter that it’s some kind of card game, (well, I think it is), but that’s about it.
Let’s try a different word, a different translation. The mishkan, the tabernacle - the sanctuary. This parsha describes the building of the sanctuary made to shelter the newly re-received tablets of the ten commandments and to allow Aaron and the other priests to do their holy work. As Moses told the people:
This is what יהוה has commanded: Take from among you gifts to יהוה; everyone whose heart is so moved shall bring them—gifts for יהוה: gold, silver, and copper; blue, purple, and crimson yarns, fine linen, and goats’ hair; tanned ram skins, dolphin skins, and acacia wood; oil for lighting, spices for the anointing oil and for the aromatic incense;
What follows is an outpouring of gifts, material gifts of all kinds as well as the gifts of skilled craftspeople charged with the transformation of wood and necklace and spice into structure and adornment and ritual offering. This outpouring continues and continues, with the people asking each other “what can I bring” until the craftspeople building the sanctuary told Moses they had more than was needed:
Moses thereupon had this proclamation made throughout the camp: “Let no man or woman make further effort toward gifts for the sanctuary!” So the people stopped bringing: their efforts had been more than enough for all the tasks to be done.”
As the current president of the board here at Hinenu, and as a former fundraising chair, I cannot help but feel a twinge of longing to be in Moses’ position at the time of this parsha, getting to say “Enough! Stop giving! We’re good!!!” I would so love to check in with members just to check in, and not because membership dues have not been paid. Or to talk to folks with enthusiasm about what we’re doing without them or me waiting (or dreading) the inevitable ask. Donor fatigue is a real issue - and so is asker fatigue, and it can lead to loss of perspective on both sides, loss of connection to the how and why of the generosity being requested and offered.
So, much more than the abundance of goods shared and the fulfillment of the needs, what, to me, is most striking in this text is the repeated invoking of the heart’s role in the generosity being shown.
Everyone whose heart so moves …
Men and women, all whose hearts moved them…
And other variations of the same. Even the Hebrew word for generosity here, nadiv lev, is rooted in the heart, lev. This openness of the heart, the movement of the heart to give, I dare propose that this is the real gold here, this is what allows the craftspeople and Moses to know they have enough. Yes, the material goods are important, immensely so, but more so is the spirit in which they are given.
In a reminder of interconnectedness, this teaching aligns very strongly with Buddhist teachings on generosity, dana, and the open-hearted and open-handed spirit of generosity, caga. Buddhist teachings point to the spirit and motivation of generosity as the most important part of a gift, more than the amount. They teach that this opening of the heart is a key factor in spiritual progress along the path of liberation. Generosity is what the Buddha taught first, before ethics, before mindfulness training, and is listed as the first of the paramis, or perfections, traits to develop. Why? Generosity is a key liberatory practice because it frees us from a sense of separateness and non-belonging. It helps us to experience and come to know how we all shift between roles of giver, receiver, and gift, in the ever-changing flow of life. We can see this in the parsha, as the Israelites, by giving of their gold and wood and textiles, sheltered and clothed the priests, found themselves interwoven into the sacred rites, and received the teachings and blessings their offerings made possible.
Buddhism also describes giving as an act of preservation. In the Aditta Sutta, from the Pali canon, a radiant celestial being tells The Buddha:
When a house is on fire,
the vessel salvaged
is the one that will be of use,
not the one left there to burn.
So when the world is on fire
with aging & death,
one should salvage (one’s wealth) by giving:
what’s given is well salvaged.
“So when the world is on fire with aging & death, one should salvage (one’s wealth) by giving: what’s given is well salvaged.” To save something dear, we don’t sequester it or hold it back, but give it away. This is how, in this day and age, teachings and practices originating well over 2,500 years ago are still here, surviving through so many instances of a world on fire. We give it away, but we do need to keep it safe, so we build a sanctuary, a Tent of Meeting, where care is both given and received.
And it strikes me, that while Moses and the Israelites were building a sanctuary, a physical entity that could, at least for a time, be completed, we here at Hinenu, with the privilege of this physical space generously rented to us by Homewood Friends, we haven’t needed to build a sanctuary. Instead, we are building sanctuary. Sanctuary for those who have felt the sting of rejection or not-belonging in other Jewish spaces. Sanctuary for those who don’t want to choose between a deep conviction in justice and human rights and a meaningful religious tradition. Sanctuary for those looking for welcoming space to develop in their spiritual path, or develop community; to connect with ancestors biological or chosen.
It is sanctuary that allows me, a patrilineal Jew who spent years calling myself “Jew…ish?,” feeling rejected by Jewish community and rejecting it in turn, to not only come to feel welcome enough to be able to serve in leadership here, but also to be able to share out loud with you that I am Jewish. And I am Buddhist, or, at least, that is the lens through which I feel I see things most clearly. And it only took a lot of crying in the woods to recognize how much I feel connected to and want to be both, and just one tearful conversation with Rabbi Ariana to feel assured that I can pursue a Buddhist path without being exiled or having to self-exile from this community, from the sanctuary we build and give to each other.
Building sanctuary. This is what we do, this is what we are doing. And so, while I may wish it for my many eager successors in this role (hint, hint), I know I won’t find myself in Moses’ enviable position of pleading with you all to stop giving. The work of building sanctuary does not come to an end, there is no final nail to hammer and no final curtain to hang. And so I will keep asking for your gifts; for your money, offered as donations and membership dues, as celebrations and as memorials; and for your skilled service, in the form of volunteering and stepping into leadership. I will keep asking for the sake of this community, this sanctuary that cannot be held together by enthusiasm alone, that needs a lot of material resources and labor. I will ask that you ask yourselves, your families, your networks to support this sanctuary we are building together.
And I hope that the words offered here can serve to remind us all, askers and donors, givers, receivers, and gifts, of these teachings that wisdom traditions have shared through time about the spiritual practice of generosity:
May our hearts open and move us.
May our longing be for belonging.
May what adorned the body transform into what adorns the heart.
May our giving be a way of saving the teachings and the teachers, who in turn will share their gifts on and on, l’dor v’dor, from generation to generation.
May the sanctuary we build be boundless, interconnected, and for the benefit of all beings.
May our gifts open up the path of liberation, together.
May all beings be free.