
Around the table, we become together the vessel to hold what
each one brings. There are times when the vessel is quickly filled. As so
often, we began with what would appear to be rather prosaic verses, surely not
ones that jump out with meaning at first glance, the ordinary waiting to be
recognized as the holy that is right there before our eyes. In the weekly Torah
portion called T’rumah (Ex.
25:1-27:19), God calls upon us to build a sanctuary that God may dwell among
us, v’sho’chanti b’tocham/and I will
dwell among you. God does not need a sanctuary in which to dwell, but we do
if we would dwell together. The sanctuary is the means of our convening, of our
being together, thereby to feel God’s presence among us.

Quickly then we came to wonder of what is to be within, from
that which is within ourselves to what is to be within the holy ark. From the
pages of his commentary, Rabbenu Bachya spoke from thirteenth century Spain,
pointing us to Deuteronomy 10:2. God there tells Moses to place within the ark
of wood the broken tablets of stone,
the shattered fragments from the first
tablets that Moses had thrown down in anger. It was a moment of such brokenness
when Moses came down the mountain and saw the people dancing around the golden
calf, then of precious metal misused and made as dross, the gifts we are given
misused and abused, whether of body or of possessions. The people were in a
state of brokenness. Moses was in a state of brokenness. The shattered tablets
tell of life as it really is, littered with the shards of shattered dreams and
hopes that are still holy because we dared to dream and to hope. We cannot be
whole if we pretend there is no brokenness. The whole tablets are to dwell in
the ark of wood, and so too the broken shards of the tablets that were
shattered in anger. Only if both are placed within the ark can we learn of
life’s wholeness. Wholeness is not the same as perfection. Perfection is an
illusion that distracts from life’s meaning to be found along the way of
living. Perfection is in the striving. In striving we fail and fall at times,
and in our getting up we become imperfectly whole. The whole tablets are only
whole because they dwell with the broken tablets, because Moses got up and went
back up the mountain.

All of life is held in the aron etz/the ark of wood. Overlaid
with the preciousness of life’s striving, the pure gold of loving and creating
and doing good, the qualities that define us are imperishable in their
continuing to tell of who we were when we have gone. Of material possessions,
whatever is acquired in the living of our days are meant to embrace the organic
essence of life itself, to be in its service. The innermost vessel of wood is
the aron, organic and therefore
imperfectly whole, ephemeral in its decomposing in the passing of time. As the
Holy Ark of wood, our essence is within, the physical to be honored, the body
as sacred because it is the vessel of the soul. As the body is the vessel of
the soul, the vessel in which the body is placed in death is also called aron, also a holy ark as the vessel of
the body’s return to the earth from which it comes. So this aron too is to be completely organic,
without metal, neither screws nor nails, only wooden pegs with which to fasten,
the gold of life's external sheen put aside and left behind, shining now for
the living to tell of who we were, rays of light to shine as a blessing.

And teva also means word, the vessels we
create that sail from our heart's innermost harbor across the banks of our lips
and out into the sea of life, whether words to heal or words to hurt, vessels
to carry precious cargo, love and hope as the gold that overlays all that is
innermost, organic and perishable, thus the truly precious in its fleetingness.

Rabbi Victor Reinstein
No comments:
Post a Comment