Our Modern Mishkan – A Place of Grumbling
Juliana Schnur
Take a deep breath. That is essentially what this week’s parshah, Pekudei, instructs us to do. Over the last five weeks, we have read and relived the construction of the first tabernacle in the Sinai Desert. The only task more daunting than following God’s meticulous building instructions might be that of a Starbucks barista who must constantly heed this level of extreme minutiae in satisfying his customers. There is a striking similarity between God’s “recipe” for the Israelites’ ancient Mishkan (“For the priests, I’ll have a gold, blue, purple and crimson wool ephod with connecting shoulder straps, a decorative band, shoham stones, two golden rings and a twisted pomegranate hem”) and today’s double-blended venti half-soy nonfat chocolate brownie iced vanilla double-shot frappuccino with foam. Like a coffee drinker’s palette, God’s taste is definitely “refined.”
Pekudei, which means “accounting,” is less about the accomplishment of a task than it is a reminder that our work is never finished. You see, while the culmination of a lengthy and strenuous project like building the tabernacle engenders satisfaction and an inclination toward rest, the structure is portable, so its “completion” actually marks the first stage in the process of its dismantling. “Accounting” is therefore a bitemporal word that connotes taking stock of what has been achieved in the past, while also anticipating what remains to be done in the future. Pekudei is our coffee break.
In Midrash Tanchuma, the sages highlight Exodus 40:17, which reads:
Vayehi b-khodesh ha-rishon b-shanah ha-shenit b-achad le-khodesh hookim hamishkan.
“It came to pass in the first month of the second year, on the first day of the month, that the tabernacle was erected.” The Midrash says,
“Whenever the Torah uses the word vayehi ("and it came to pass"), this connotes a woeful event. What woe was there in the Mishkan's completion? This is comparable to a king who had a contentious wife. He said to her: "Make me a purple cloak." As long as she was preoccupied with it, she did not quarrel. When her work was completed, she brought it to the king. The king saw it and was pleased with it, and began cry out, "Woe! Woe!" His wife said: "What is this, my lord? I have labored to do your will, and you cry, 'woe, woe'?" He responded: "The work is beautiful and favorable in my eye. But as long as you were preoccupied with it, you did not anger or provoke me; now that you are free of it, I fear that you will again anger me."
So, too, said God: "As long as my children were occupied with the Mishkan, they did not grumble against Me. Now they will again begin to provoke Me." Therefore it says vayehi--vy hi, "woe is it."
Although the Mishkan of the Israelites was in constant flux, being assembled and dismantled as the tribe migrated, today’s sanctuary is generally fixed (unless you take on a multi-year renovation campaign to green your synagogue). And so, with the mishkan constructed and the purple cloak project complete, we return to our grumbling.
I like the word “grumble.” It’s onomatopoeic and evokes the echo of an empty stomach gently reminding us of what our bodies are missing. And just as our stomach is part of a whole and takes responsibility for ensuring the entire body’s health, so too the Jewish people most grumble to God to ensure the wellbeing of humanity. And what more sanctified place is there to grumble, to provoke, to lobby God than in the space designated for our communion with him?
The modern mishkan is a place for grumbling. And we Reform Jews, a faith group whose religious observance is infused with a strong commitment to social justice, have a long list of issues to grumble about. I’m blessed to work in an office of professional grumblers, so in addition to lobbying God at temple, I get to do so every day at the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism (the RAC), the legislative office of our Movement. I can’t help feeling, however, that my grumbles are louder in DC than they ever were at home.
Working down the street from the Capitol, with unrestricted access to the offices of our legislators, I know my voice is heard. And while it’s no surprise that sitting in a Senator’s office and asking for his or her endorsement of a bill feels more effective than sending an electronically generated letter with the same request, I’m struck by the way in which our distance from power so greatly dilutes our sense of agency – our individual impact—in affecting the way that power is exercised, and our sense of urgency in speaking out.
I long ago noticed that friends and family from the DC area tended to be “political.” And until moving to DC, I used that word “political” pejoratively to describe someone who was always on, always pushing some issue, whose passion and drive for change made me feel guilty for my complacency. Why be political when you can just be, I thought.
Well, it turns out these “political” Energizer Bunnies are always on for a reason. From reproductive choice to religious freedom to freedom of speech, our rights are constantly under attack. While it was easy to mute the din of Washington in New York, it’s impossible for me to ignore these threats to our liberties when protecting those rights is now my job.
The Union for Reform Judaism frequently cites a quote from the Babylonian Talmud: “A ruler is not to be appointed unless the community is first consulted” (Berachot 55a). This contention emphasizes the high value Jewish tradition places on accountability in our system of governance. Despite the fact that all Americans over 18 have the right to vote, those closer to power, whether physically or financially, are consulted more often than the rest of us, making their voices more significant.
I’m not here this evening to offer up a scheme for further enfranchisement; I’m here to tell you that one already exists. In addition to the RAC, whose mission is to communicate Reform Jewish values to our federal policymakers, Reform Jewish Voice of New York State is a body modeled on the RAC that communicates those same values to our state legislators.
With so many important issues being decided in Washington and popular upheavals toppling regimes in the Arab world, state governance may not seem at first blush like the most seductive of enterprises. But consider for a moment that only our State Senators and Assembly Members can decide whether same-sex couples have the right to marry. As the Roberts court erodes years of bipartisan campaign finance reform legislation, diminishing the individual’s voice in favor of the corporation’s, it is up to the state legislature to protect its elections from a similar invasion of corporate dollars. As the religious right co-opts more politicians and individuals in its crusade against family planning, it’s up to the New York State legislature to enshrine a woman’s right to choose in our state’s constitution.
Essential questions about civil rights, health care, criminal and economic justice and the environment are being legislated up in Albany and too many of us are sitting on the sidelines. Our coffee break is over and it’s time to grumble!
Reform Jewish Voice was founded in large part to fill a void in our state’s capital. For too long the faith voice in Albany was monopolized by the Catholic Bishops Conference, a group that does not always see eye to eye with us on important social justice issues. While we frequently partner with the Catholic Bishops on economic and criminal justice issues to fight for the protection of our social safety net and the rights of youth offenders, we find ourselves in opposing camps when it comes to reproductive choice, same-sex marriage, comprehensive sex education, stem cell research and a host of other important issues. The advocates who established RJV did so with a singular intention – to highlight for our state legislators that no one group has a monopoly on faith.
Over the last nine years, RJV has partnered with congregations throughout the New York to highlight social justice priorities for our state government. From our spring lobby day to our autumn Advocacy Shabbat, the goal of RJV is to ensure that the community is “first consulted” and that all faith groups get a seat at the legislative bargaining table.
Now more than ever we see how a fragile economy and unstable international community can put our rights in peril. Our vigilance must therefore extend beyond the purview of our families and communities to our state and our nation.
This Shabbat, as on all Shabbatot, we account for our week. We reflect upon our behavior, upon our triumphs and travails, and we resolve to do better. As you anticipate the week ahead, I ask you to do so with a heightened awareness of all the resources you have available to help facilitate our pursuit of a more just world.
Reform Jewish Voice is your mouthpiece in Albany, just as the RAC speaks on your behalf in Washington. Unlike Washington, however, your access to legislators is much greater at the state level. Your representatives are waiting to hear from you, especially as Reform Jews. As the progressive faith voice in Albany, we are one of the few bulwarks preventing a monolithic religious influence on state government.
Just as the mishkan cannot contain the divine, so our grumblings cannot be limited to the walls of the sanctuary. I conclude with this final grumble, “Endow us, oh God, with the wisdom to seek justice from the doorsteps of our homes to the steps of the Capitol. Let us not tire in our pursuit of a world where peace reigns and your children grumble no more.”
