Vayakhel: The Imperfect Sanctuary

Liluei Nishmas Ita bas Chanoch Aharon Bistritzky

The Torah describes the construction of the Mishkan in two sets of parashot, first in Terumah and Tetzaveh, where the instructions for building the Mishkan are given, and then again in Vayakhel and Pekudei, where the actual construction is detailed. This seems repetitive and unnecessary. Why doesn't the Torah simply state that the Mishkan was built as commanded instead of reiterating the entire process already detailed earlier?

The answer lies in the understanding that we are dealing with two distinct conceptions of the Mishkan: the theoretical Mishkan, as commanded by Hashem, and the actual physical Mishkan that was constructed. In Terumah and Tetzaveh, the dialogue occurs between Hashem and Moshe on Har Sinai, where Hashem provides Moshe with the blueprint for how the Mishkan should ideally be constructed. This conversation represents the "theoretical Mishkan"—a sublime vision of an ideal sanctuary, conveyed to Moshe, the holiest individual of all time.

However, the narrative takes a turn with the incident of the Egel HaZahav, where the Jews corrupt themselves with idol worship. This event shatters their "ideal" aspirations, confronting them with the reality of their imperfections. The subsequent portions, Vayakhel and Pekudei, depict the actual construction of the Mishkan. Unlike the idealized version, this Mishkan is built from tangible materials—gold sourced from jewelry and metals taken from mirrors. It represents the tangible, real-world effort of the community to create a sacred space amidst their imperfections and after having veered from their ideal path.

The Torah's repetition emphasizes a crucial message: Hashem chooses to dwell not in the ideal but in the real. While we might envision Hashem residing in a Mishkan of perfection, in reality, Hashem chooses to dwell not in the idealistic Mishkan but in the Mishkan constructed amidst our imperfect realities. Hashem's true dwelling place is not in the pristine but in the gritty reality of our actual lives—the Mishkan we build with our own hands, from bricks and mortar, effort, and perseverance. A divine sanctuary isn't born from lofty dialogues on mountaintops but is forged in the day-to-day struggle and commitment to doing good, even when it lacks the spiritual glamour we dream of.

We often start our journeys with high expectations for our lives, our spiritual observances, and our relationships, envisioning them in ideal terms. Yet, when faced with the reality that our plans don't always materialize as hoped, we're called to find motivation in our daily lives to perform mitzvot, embracing the imperfect and the real. Hashem finds His home not in abstract ideals but in the tangible Mishkan we build amidst our trials and triumphs. It's in this space—our real, lived experiences, far from our initial dreams and ideals—where Hashem chooses to reside.