Rabbi Thomas Louchheim Sermon: Vayak’heil "Where Will God Live? Not in the Fire!”
Friday, February 29, 2008
The book of Exodus began with birth at a time of death. Moses is born in the midst of the death of children as commanded by Pharaoh. His life saved by the hands of women at the shore of the raging waters of the Nile. And then Moses became God’s mouth, and the rabble became a people. After Sinai, the people were on the move once again. Where will God live?
The last five parashiyot of Exodus set forth detailed instructions for the creation of the Mishkan, God’s traveling abode, God’s sanctuary. But those directions are interrupted by the construction of a molten calf that provokes such fury from Moses that he smashes the tablets containing the words that will guide the Jewish people for the rest of human history. This week’s Torah portion begins after Moses descends once again from the mountain, radiant in the light of God’s renewed commitment. Now the description of the plans for the Tabernacle–the Sanctuary–can continue.
The first words of the portion direct our attention to Moses’ growth: “Moses then convoked the whole Israelite community and said to them: . . .” (Exodus 35:1). According to Siftei Tzaddikim, Moses has learned that the people need to be brought together
in common purpose before they can begin the work of building the Sanctuary. He does not bring them together to get mad at them once again. He doesn’t bring them together in order to yell at them or embarrass them. He doesn’t even bring them together to continue constructing the Sanctuary! Moses brings the people together by reiterating the challenge of Shabbat.
35:2. Six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have sanctity, a day of complete rest to the Lord; whoever performs work thereon [on this day] shall be put to death.
3. You shall not kindle fire in any of your dwelling places on the Sabbath day.”
And, after he tells them about the importance of Shabbat, he comes back and tells them to bring all the stuff for the Sanctuary:
5. ‘Take from yourselves an offering for the Lord; every generous hearted person shall bring it, [namely] the Lord’s offering: gold, silver, and copper; 6. and blue, purple, and crimson
wool; and linen and goat hair;
7. and ram skins dyed red, tachash skins, and acacia wood;
8.and oil for lighting, and spices for the anointing oil and for the incense . . . .’
And on and on and on, he lists the beautiful things necessary for the Sanctuary.
But Moses begins with Shabbat. Shabbat is the crown of creation: “On the seventh day, God had completed the work that had been done, ceasing then on the seventh day from all the work that [God] had done. Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy. . . .” (Genesis 2:2–3). Later, at Sinai, the people are charged: “Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.
Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath of the Eternal your God: you shall not do any work. . . . For in six days the Eternal made heaven and earth and sea . . . .” (Exodus 20:8–11).
What does it mean to sanctify the seventh day? What does it mean if you do not? What does it mean if you do not come to Friday night services, or light candles in your home? What if you have to go to work on Saturday? Do you feel guilty if you bring work home to do over the weekend? Are you apologetic to your rabbi when you see him around Tucson—“I am sorry that I do not come to synagogue for Shabbat services; don’t hate me for that?”
Am I giving this sermon to the wrong members of our congregation because all of you are here and the rest of the congregation is not?
In this week’s Torah portion, I believe Moses begins to speak about Shabbat because he knows that the people are not ready to continue with the Sanctuary in their frame of mind. And maybe, just maybe, there will be some aspect of the Shabbat experience that will get them back on track.
When Moses approaches the people at the beginning of this portion, he does so with a greater appreciation of their frailties (and his own) and with a renewed understanding of their strength (and of his, as well). Especially after the Golden Calf incident, I believe he understands the difficulty the people face as they build a home for a God, a god that has no form. A sanctuary for the calf–that makes sense. It is something they can see and touch.
God is beyond comprehension and we need to build a physical home? Make sense out of that why don’t you.
Before he gets them back to work on the Sanctuary, he returns to Shabbat. So he returns to a subject they know but do not fully comprehend as yet. All they know is that it is a day of rest and they do not have to work. And to that idea of Shabbat he adds a single sentence that had not previously been included in any of the descriptions of Sabbath observance: “You shall kindle no fire throughout your settlements on the Sabbath day” (Exodus 35:3).
Certainly, in the ancient world very little could be created without fire. But, we can also look at fire metaphorically and see that fire is a precondition to all forms of creative work. The fire of imagination, the fire of creativity, the fire of emotion–this is the creative energy that precedes work. There is no creation without it. At the beginning of the world, fire/light is created first and out of this everything else develops.
However, there is another side to this. It was the enflamed passions of the people that led to the creation of the molten calf. The fire we kindle can be a negative energy also.
Now, as the chastened people stand ready to contribute both their goods and their energies to the creation of the Sanctuary, they are told to hold their fire; to temper their passion; to understand their fervor in light of a greater ideal, Shabbat. Shabbat comes before even the creation of the holy Sanctuary. Shabbat, not the Sanctuary, is where God lives.
We, like our ancestors thousands of years ago, struggle to understand what this means. Why should Shabbat be something important for us? Ironically, again, I ask this question of those of you gathered tonight to hear this sermon. Ironically, on December 15, 2007, Rabbi Eric Yoffie challenged the five thousand Reform Jews gathered in San Diego to accept this challenge as well. I assume that those gathered a few months ago in Southern California already understood the importance of this value in their lives.
This mandate of the Torah seems to make sense to many of us with our stressed-out, sleep-deprived families. It seems relevant and sensible. Our tradition does not instruct us to stop working altogether on Shabbat; after all, it takes a certain amount of effort to study, to pray, and go to synagogue. However, we are asked to abstain from the work that we do to earn a living, and instead, to reflect, to enjoy, and to take a stroll through the neighborhood, a local park, or somewhere in nature, alone or with family. But that in itself does not answer the question of how Shabbat satisfied the Israelites enough to make their donations and to build a home for God. It doesn’t answer the question of why, even when we rest, and study, and pray, we are still sleep-deprived and stressed-out. It is all about the fire. “You shall kindle no fire throughout your settlements on the Sabbath day” (Exodus 35:3).
On Shabbat, of course, we are not to kindle our metaphoric fires that lead to creation; but at the same time, we are instructed not to kindle the fires that lead to destruction either!
Certainly, many of us walk through our week-day lives unemotionally. Many others are terrorized by the negative emotions others direct at us. And yes, we also impact people we know with the fire of our emotions. We think of what people have done to us and, unless we unburden ourselves of their fire, it keeps us tumbling in a downward negative direction as we pile injustices upon injustices that have happened to ourselves and others.
Earlier this week, I spoke to a young woman I have been counseling for years on various matters. She told me of how an employer had unjustly accused her of something which led to the loss of her job. Years later, she has found other employment but is still infuriated at what this woman at her previous job did to her. The emotion in her voice was so heightened that you would have assumed it happened yesterday.
“What do you want to happen?” I asked her.
“I want her to apologize to me,” she replied angrily.
“Look, the likelihood of that happening is zero,” I said. “But look at the power this woman has over you. Here is something that happened to you years ago, and every time you think of it you become emotionally distraught.” I told my friend that this woman cannot hold a candle to her. “You are bright, you are moral and ethical. You are giving blessings to children and others you teach and meet. You are allowing that woman to take this away from you–from thousands of miles away and years ago. Don’t let her have that kind of power over you. You are allowing her to destroy you little by little.”
Rabbi Schneerson tells a story of a woman who came to him for counsel. Her ex-husband was marrying a twenty-year-old bombshell. She was infuriated.
If I put a hot burning coal in the palm of your hand, what would you do?” the rabbi asked her.
“I would drop it immediately,” she answered.
“Why?” the rabbi asked.
“Because it would burn my hand,” she said.
“So drop it,” the rabbi said.
I wasn’t telling my friend to simply drop and forget her despair over how she was treated and losing a job she loved. I told her that she certainly could be upset. But realize that you are the one kindling the fire. The other person is not even in the picture anymore.
The other person isn’t even thinking about you!
The fires of emotion that the people kindled to create the Golden Calf are the same fires of emotion that we kindle within us to create the demons of our own making.
My friends, Shabbat creates an environment that leads you to a better place if you can stop lighting fires. Look at the fires you created. Look at the fires that others have created in you. Put them out. Move on. It is in your power.
Shabbat reminds you that if you stop wrestling with the world; if you stop wringing every ounce of your emotional energy into things and people that are not really important in the big picture, then Shabbat has helped you build a sanctuary for God and for Shalom. The key is to not allow those fires of negative emotion to smolder over a period of weeks, months, or even years. Each week, look at how those fires destroy you in the worst ways. Allowing those embers to die out and not kindling new ones will shavat v’yinafash, “rest and renew your soul.” Shabbat is a gift bringing its presence of wholeness into your lives. Once you accept it, you will be able to contribute more fruitfully during the week, and celebrate the indwelling of God’s spirit more fully on Shabbat.
Amen.
Congregation Or Chadash
(Inspired by Rabbi Sue Elwell)