Vayakhel-Pekudei
This double parsha describes the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). and the Mishkan is assembled, together with the Priests' garments, just as God had commanded. The Parsha begins with the Mitzvah of Shabbos. Then it describes the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle). The Israelites donate materials with such enthusiasm that Moses has to tell them to stop. Betzalel and Oholiav are appointed as chief architects and artists. And finally, the work is completed, and God's presence fills the Mishkan.
Vayakhel-Pekudei – Caryn Aviv
Caryn Aviv is the Posen Lecturer in Secular Jewish Culture at the University of Denver, and Storahtelling's Colorado Mile High Maven Coordinator. She teaches and writes in the areas of contemporary Jewish cultures, Israel Studies, and gender/sexualities in Judaism. Caryn co-founded Jewish Mosaic: The National Center for Sexual and Gender Diversity, which works towards the full inclusion of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered people in Jewish life.
This week's double parsha explores the complexities of leadership, community, and sacred space in the making, literally and metaphorically. Literally, it's the description of all the production work that Moshe orchestrates, as the Israelite people's stage manager, which culminates in the elaborate construction of the Mishkan.This is holy work as Moshe and the people create the setting for one of our most important productions: a sacred space to receive the presence of God.
Metaphorically, the parsha explores how Moshe's leadership role is changing. How will his responsibilities shift once the Mishkan is completed? How will Moshe come to terms with the completion of a project that holds enormous religious and symbolic import to the entire Israelite people?
Moshe demonstrates a knack for leadership in harnessing the collective energy of the Israelites to direct all the work to create the Mishkan. It's quite a project to manage, long before there were spreadsheets. There are gifts and donations to collect, artisans to supervise, and detailed priestly garments to create. Not to mention there's the architecture and construction of the tent and courtyard, and the exacting instructions for the Mishkan's interior decorating, including lamps and altars.
The work of the Mishkan is also a great opportunity for cooperation and collaboration: "everyone who excelled in ability and everyone whose spirit was moved came... men and women, all whose hearts moved them..." (Exodus 21-22) The past two-and-a-half decades of Limmud around the world have a clear precedent: the outpouring of effort in building this Mishkan might be the first example of collective "do-it-yourself" organizing in the history of the Jews. At the end of this amazing process, the entire space of the Mishkan is literally filled with the divine presence, so much so that Moshe cannot enter.
Eventually, Moshe will have to 'pass on the leadership torch', as he will hand over all ritual responsibilities in the Mishkan to Aaron and his sons. In Vaayakhel-Pekudei, we see the leadership tasks diverging to a certain extent: Moshe is clearly in stage director mode, Aaron is preparing to assume his obligations as ritual director, and Betzalel and Ohaliav are busy in their construction and building manager roles.
But at the end of Pekudei, the work of building and constructing concludes. Moshe stands alone at the gate of the Mishkan, and then the cloud descends: it's a moment of high drama, mystery and transition. God's completely presence fills the Mishkan, and Moshe remains outside. It's unclear whether and how Moshe will integrate himself into the sacred space he worked so hard to create.
What is Moshe's real role as we complete the Book of Exodus? In contemporary terms, you could say that he’s continuing to evolve and refine his personal mission statement and leadership vision. When I read the end of Pekudei, I try to imagine what might have been going through Moshe's head in this moment: is he grappling with doubts and uncertainty about the future - his own, and that of the Israelites? When the work is done, does he ask himself "What is my role and where is my place now?" Was it easy and trouble-free, or frightening and difficult for Moshe to step back and out of the way, to let go? It's a sublime (or perhaps excruciating) moment of transition.
I think many of us grapple with this question over the course of our lives, as our roles and responsibilities shift and change. It digs at the question of who we are, when some of our work is done and it's time to move on to another chapter, another place in the wilderness, another stage of life. How do we know when it's time to let go and let something just be, when we've invested so much time, energy, and who we are into building that? Why is it so difficult sometimes to let go, after investing so much effort into a labor of love? How can we live with the uncertainty of moving forward in our lives, especially when one chapter (or, in our case, the Book of Exodus), is ending, and another one is beginning? What do we choose to take with us when we begin a new story, and what do we choose to leave behind?
I think Moshe stepping back to witness the completion and ignition of the Mishkan is a useful metaphor for us contemporary Jews in so many ways. Like Moses and the Israelites, this sacred work is done in community, not alone - because each of us brings special gifts and blessings to the effort that builds communal holy space. Like Moses and the Israelites, today's Jews need both the design and architecture AND the intention and vision to create sacred space and community together. In other words, it's not just about architecture and design instructions and materials and the "stuff" that makes a space, or a life, beautiful and sacred. Like Moshe and the Israelites, we also need the kavannah (intention) and presence of mind to invite sacredness inside, so that our own lives, like the Mishkan, can be filled with holiness, meaning, and integrity. And sometimes, that means letting go, getting out of our own way, and letting the magic take over, so that new stories can emerge.
Another Voice - David Israel
David has been a Limmud volunteer since 2000, including three regional Limmud teams, three national Conference teams and helping three international teams.
My first instinct for thoughts around this Parasha went to my day job as a Fundraiser. After all, here is the perfect Kol Nidre appeal: a clear and defined cause, a motivated set of donors, the appeal is given by someone revered and respected by the people and, guess what - they raise even more than was needed. So, why pass up the opportunity to make an appeal (sorry, bad pun) to you all to look at your charitable giving and ask if you are giving in the same responsible way that the Children of Israel, our family - our ancestors, did then?
However, it also has a much wider and less financial meaning for me, not least as a Limmud volunteer. We also have the same clear and defined cause - 'taking people one step further on their Jewish journey'. We have a motivated set of donors (700+ volunteers, and plenty of room for more), and our appeal is made not just by 'the great and good', but by all those members of the UK Jewish community seeking accessible Jewish education. And the result? National Conference grows year on year attracting the highest quality participants and presenters. Regional Limmud activity growing each year with new Day Limmud activities across the UK. International Limmud now available in 40+ countries - with more and more regions and countries joining each year.
Question is - are you doing as much as you could for this appeal?



