Vayakhel-Pekudei

'Like clay in the hands of the potter' - Alastair Falk

Alastair Falk is currently Director of the Academy of Enterprise. He has previously been a Jerusalem Fellow and a Head of two Jewish schools, and he was the originator of Limmud.

One of the most beautiful prayers on Yom Kippur is ki hina hachomer, 'like clay in the hands of the potter'. In a series of images, God is an artisan and we are His materials. I was reminded of this recently when reading a new book on how different cultures view creativity. In Western thought, creativity is associated with inventiveness, whereas in the east the emphasis is on spirituality. So, for the West, the 'paradigm artist' is the carpenter, 'cutting the material reality of wood into segments and rearranging it like a 'maker'.' In Indian thought, on the other hand, the paradigm artist is the potter, working with a material reality (the clay) that is more like water. 'The potter therefore does not 'make' - he merely makes manifest a form that inheres in the material and is present to him in his mind.'

How, in this light, might we understand the work of Bezalel and his fellow 'wisehearted' artisans, as we again this week encounter the immensely detailed instructions for the structure and materials for the Mishkan?

At first glance they would appear to be very much like the carpenter, cutting and assembling the segments. But the Ramban (13th century commentator) suggests otherwise, commenting on the phrase 'nessao libo - everyone whose heart exalted him', 'they undertook to do the work, although there was no-one among them who had learned these crafts from a teacher. Rather a person who felt in his nature that he knew how to practice such skills ... could come before Moses and say, I will do all that my lord describes ...'.

At first glance, this may make it worse, suggesting Bezalel and the others were not even carpenters, but more like amateur DIY enthusiasts, busy following instructions as to how to assemble the Mishkan, like some divine flat pack.

Yet the very nature of the task means that those who are involved in its creation must be more than simply readers of plans, even Divine ones. Thus Ramban quotes a Midrash (traditional rabbinic narrative) that 'Bezalel knew how to combine the letters with which Heaven and Earth were created', while another Midrash suggests Bezalel intuitively understood even better than Moses in what order the Mishkan needed to be constructed. In other words, Bezalel is indeed like the potter, standing 'in God's shadow' as he feels the Divine spirit shape his materials.

We struggle today with the symbolism of the Mishkan, and why so much of the Torah is devoted to the details of its construction. We are all too aware that it is a far off, hidden language. For many Jews, the same is true of the Mishkan's human descendant, the synagogue. This problem was recognised by one of the great Chasidic masters. Moses and his generation, taught Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev (18th century), conceived of the sanctuary by their own light, their own prophetic vision. 'And so you shall make it' (Exodus 25:9) '- in your generation, you must (re)make God's sanctuary according to the visions of your time and place.'

In recent years we have seen this happen with the rapid spread of all kinds of new forms of minyanim, whether alternatives in big shuls, or Carlebach, or egalitarian. As we build ever more choices and forms, however, we face a central challenge - are we simply cutting old wood into new shapes or are we releasing the soul in the clay? In short, are we carpenters or potters?