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Chomer Lidrush
Some ideas to turn your gears heading into the parsha.
1) There is No Shul (Shiur or Drasha)
If you look at the description of the building of the mishkan, you might notice that there were no walls – there were adonim and vavei amudim and kerashim, but all that just made it seem like there were walls. As a mobile sanctuary, the Mishkan could not have had walls!
This gets interesting when you consider the Ramban’s comments in his introduction to Shemos: the Mishkan was to function as a sort of mobile Har Sinai experience (he lists the many similarities between the two). If the function of the Mishkan was to carry the experience of Matan Torah with the people, then where was the stage? Where was the Har in the Mishkan?
The Meshech Chochmah in Parshas Yisro notes that kedusha cannot descend into an open space; for kedusha to come into the world, there must be boundaries, the space must be enclosed. At Har Sinai, the people themselves were the boundary (v’higbalta es ha’am saviv) – the Nation were the walls.
When the kerashim were inserted into the adanim, it would almost seem like a person; in fact, this is where the contribution of each individual went! The “walls” were a representation of the people – the Nation were the walls.
If this is true of the Mishkan, then it is true of our shuls. Our places of holiness appear to have walls, but really, the structure is us. (The shul is not the building, the electrical sockets or the pews; the shul is the minyan, the mispallelim, etc.)
Additional sources: Rav Schachter shlita quoting the Rav and this piece in Mesoras HaRav Chumash.
2) In the Lowest and Darkest Places
We’re still collectively reeling from difficult news from Eretz Yisrael last week, and will likely face more dark feelings as the ceasefire progresses towards the returning of bodies, and not people; the Mishkan is a most appropriate setting for this. R’ Shalom Noach Berezovsky, the late Slonimer Rebbe and author of Nesvios Shalom, has a moving piece on Dirah BaTachtonim – in the physical and emotional sense – as the main function of the Mishkan. This piece could work for a shiur on what the Mishkan means or a drasha, giving insight and chizuk: after Wednesday’s levaya and transfers, it may be difficult to bring God and the Godly into our grief; it may be tempting to shut everything out, and avodas Hashem might be the last thing on our minds. However, the message of the Mishkan, the Rebbe explains, is to create a dwelling place for God and the Godly specifically in the low and difficult places. Our feelings may feel and seem antithetical to what a Mishkan represents, but with this interpretation, we see it as ideal.
Parperet
1) This story from Angel Among Men, Simcha Raz's biography on Rav Kook (translated by R. Moshe Lichtman) about the holy role of "secular" things, as evident in both the Mishkan and the early pioneers in Eretz Yisrael:
R. David Nesher related:
Rav Kook was once sitting with his close associates when the conversation turned to the builders of the Land. As is well known, many of these builders lived secular lives, and their secularism was, all too often, visible in the “buildings” they built.
Said the Rav: “The Talmud states in reference to the building of the Holy Temple, ‘[The repairmen] build with mundane [materials], and they sanctify it afterwards’ (Me’ilah 14a). The same is true regarding the building of our Holy Land. It is now being accomplished in a partially secular manner, but it will all be sanctified in the end.”
All of a sudden, the Rav rose from his chair and began dancing with intense fervor and a sacred passion, singing the words of the Talmud over and over again: Bonim b’chol ve’achar-kach makdishim!
“They build with the mundane and sanctify it afterwards!”
2) A Chassidishe vort for Shabbos Shekalim and why specifically a half-Shekel, from R'Zvi Leshem's Redemptions:
On Shabbat Shekalim, we remember the half-shekel, which served both as a census and to raise money for the upkeep of the Mishkan and its sacrifices. The Chassidic commentaries ask why we are commanded to give only a half-shekel and not a whole one. The Beit Aharon writes that each half of the shekel represents one world. One half is Olam Haba, created with the letter yud of God’s Name, and the other is Olam Hazeh, created with the letter heh of His Name. On the level of our own divine service, the Sod Yesharim teaches us that the half-shekel indicates that Yisrael understands clearly that on their own they are not complete without Hashem. And Hashem also states that there is (so to speak) no completeness for the honor of Heaven without the service of Yisrael. Thus, the combination of God’s will and the service of Yisrael equal a complete shekel.
When we read Shekalim, we try to feel that yearning which comes from the knowledge of being incomplete. As we yearn for Hashem, we remember that this very longing is most precious to Him. And it is this knowledge that brings us to the true and intense joy of Adar.
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