Sanctuary: Where God Dwells
by Rabbi Andrea London
What does
sanctuary
mean for us as Jews? The Israelites first communal task after they left Egypt and received the Torah at Mt. Sinai was to build a sanctuary, a
Mikdash
—a holy place where they can serve God. This first sanctuary they build is portable, it’s called the Mishkan or Tabernacle in English. God tells them that its purpose is so God may dwell among them. We learn from the Tabernacle that a sanctuary is more than a place to worship God; it’s also a place where God dwells within us.
As Beth Emet moves toward refurbishing our sanctuary, we have decided to make
sanctuary
our theme for the year. We want to explore its multiple meanings as a physical space to gather as a community for prayer, as a spiritual space where we feel safe and whole, as an attitude and ethos of welcoming and acceptance, and as a way to support undocumented immigrants in our community.
A physical sanctuary and prayer help us build a sanctuary in our hearts and from these sanctuaries, we can create sanctuaries of care and compassion.
For example, our Special Needs Inclusion committee is helping us think about how we can become a more inclusive community to people with a variety of physical, emotional, and learning issues. What we’ve learned from the committee’s work thus far is that we need to think comprehensively about the barriers people face when trying to access our community.
If we want our congregation to truly be a sanctuary for all, we need to think about how we engage with others. Do we really welcome everyone who enters as opposed to merely tolerating them? Becoming a sanctuary is not just a task for our building committee or for those who lead our community, but for all of us. The small and large ways we welcome and embrace people, the language we use, and the attitudes we express with our words and actions make a difference in whether or not our congregation is truly a sanctuary.
A sanctuary is not something we build once and then we’re done; it requires our attention and care. The wilderness sanctuary our ancestors built was portable. Every time they moved to a new place on their journey from Egypt to Israel, they had to take it down and rebuild it. Without care a sanctuary will deteriorate. As we look at our physical sanctuary that was built in 1964, we can’t help but notice that it doesn’t have the same luster it did over 50 years ago, and the seats certainly don’t have the same support they once did. Without rejuvenation, without intention, things decay, things fall apart. Ongoing vigilance and attention is needed to build and maintain a sanctuary that is a place of safety, love, and compassion whether that’s a physical space, a spiritual place, or an attitude of welcome and caring.
We live in a society in which we are made to feel like we never have enough and never
are
enough. We don’t have enough time, enough money, enough patience, enough Facebook likes. If we feel like we don’t have enough in our abundant society, can you imagine how the Israelites who built the first sanctuary shortly after they had been freed from Egyptian bondage must have felt? Yet, they somehow managed to scrounge up all that was needed to construct the Tabernacle — all the hardware and fabrics and precious metals needed to build the sanctuary. As the Book of Exodus ends, an accounting is taken of all the materials used in the construction of the sanctuary. And lo and behold, according to a Hasidic commentator, (Hiddush Harim) they not only had enough to build the sanctuary, they had a surplus and Moses had to tell them to stop bringing gifts.
How do we account for the tremendous generosity of the Israelites? I suggest to you that in the process of building the physical sanctuary, they learned generosity of spirit. God began to dwell
b’tocham
in their hearts and the giving came naturally and easily. Sanctuary is a way of being and a place for cultivating and living generously. May this be the sanctuary we construct together this year for ourselves, for each other, and for those in need of our care and compassion.
This piece was excerpted from Rabbi London's Kol Nidre sermon,
And I Will Dwell Among Them
.
Listen
to or
read the full sermon.
If you’d like to share your thoughts with the congregation on what sanctuary means to you - a time in which you felt like a sanctuary dwelled within you, or how we can extend sanctuary to those who need it, feel free to reach out to
Ellen Blum Barish
and
David Barish
.
