The Mishkan: Where Heaven, Torah, and Love Converge

This week's Torah reading does more than just lay out a blueprint for the building of a focal point for God's relationship with His people. It establishes the ground rules for an enduring relationship based on three key principles. Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom explains:

With just a few opening words, the Torah introduces us to an entirely new era in the life of Klal Yisrael:

וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם

“They shall make for Me a Sanctuary, and I will dwell among them” (שמות כה:ח).

After Yetziat Mitzrayim, Kriat Yam Suf, Ma’amad Har Sinai, and the thunderous revelation of the Aseret HaDibrot, one might have imagined that the spiritual climax had already occurred. Heaven had descended to earth. The Jewish people had heard the direct word of Hashem. Yet the Torah now calls them to something even more demanding: a collective project — the building of the Mishkan.

This was not an architectural endeavor. It was not merely craftsmanship. It was the creation of a sacred center that would channel Divine Presence into the physical world. If Har Sinai was a moment of revelation from above, the Mishkan was a mission of sanctification from below.

Betzalel: Building a Microcosm of Creation

The Torah describes the appointment of Betzalel in extraordinary terms:

וָאֲמַלֵּא אֹתוֹ רוּחַ אֱלֹקִים בְּחָכְמָה בִּתְבוּנָה וּבְדַעַת

“I have filled him with the spirit of God, with wisdom, understanding, and knowledge” (שמות לא:ג).

Chazal explain (ברכות נה) that Betzalel possessed a profound, almost mystical understanding. Just as Hashem created heaven and earth through the letters of the aleph-bet, so too Betzalel understood the spiritual correspondences embedded in every component of the Mishkan. Rashi notes that da’at here refers to ruach hakodesh — divine inspiration.The world itself was created as a physical universe. The Mishkan was constructed to introduce kedushah — sanctity — into that universe. Every beam, every socket, every vessel mirrored some aspect of creation. The Mishkan was, in a sense, a repaired and sanctified cosmos. From that point forward, Jewish history would revolve around this sacred center.

At the Heart: The Aron and Its Mystery

At the epicenter of the Mishkan stood the Aron HaKodesh — a sealed ark of acacia wood overlaid with gold, containing the Luchot HaBrit. It was hidden, inaccessible, entered only by the Kohen Gadol once a year on Yom Kippur. And yet it was the silent generator of holiness for the entire Mishkan.

On top of the Aron rested the Kaporet — the golden cover — and upon it stood two Keruvim:

וְעָשִׂיתָ שְׁנַיִם כְּרוּבִים זָהָב… וְהָיוּ הַכְּרוּבִים פֹּרְשֵׂי כְנָפַיִם לְמַעְלָה… וּפְנֵיהֶם אִישׁ אֶל־אָחִיו

“You shall make two cherubim of gold… The cherubim shall spread their wings upward… and their faces shall be toward one another” (שמות כה:יח–כ).

Their wings reached upward toward Heaven. Their faces turned toward one another.
Their gaze inclined downward toward the Luchot beneath them. What do these mysterious figures mean?

A Suspension of the Ordinary

The Keruvim pose an immediate halachic question. The Second Commandment prohibits graven images:

לֹא תַעֲשֶׂה לְךָ פֶסֶל…

“You shall not make for yourself a sculptured image…” (שמות כ:ד).

Yet here the Torah commands sculpted human forms. The Chizkuni explains that the Mishkan and later the Beit HaMikdash operated in an otherworldly dimension. Within its walls, certain prohibitions were suspended in service of a higher sanctity. Melachot normally forbidden on Shabbat — slaughtering, burning, baking, lighting fire — were performed daily in the Temple service. The prohibition of sha’atnez was suspended in the priestly garments, which combined wool and linen. So too, the prohibition against sculpted forms was suspended for the Keruvim.

Entering the Mishkan meant stepping into a different plane — a realm where the Divine order superseded the ordinary structure of law. It was Heaven touching earth.

The Two Halves of Torah

Rav Samson Raphael Hirsch offers a powerful interpretation. Why two Keruvim? They represent the two great categories of mitzvot:

●      Bein Adam LaMakom — between man and God.

●      Bein Adam LaChaveiro — between man and fellow man.

One Keruv symbolizes our vertical relationship: Shabbat, tefillin, tzitzit — the mitzvot that anchor us in awareness of Hashem. The other symbolizes our horizontal relationship: kindness, justice, compassion — the mitzvot that build society.

Their faces turned toward one another — panim el panim — teach that these two dimensions must work in harmony. Spiritual devotion without ethical sensitivity is incomplete. Social ethics without reverence for Hashem is rootless. The Torah’s sanctity depends on their integration.

Torah Shebichtav and Torah Shebe’al Peh

A Midrashic teaching (Pirkei deRabbi Eliezer) offers another layer. The Luchot inside the Aron represent Torah Shebichtav — the immutable written Torah. But the Keruvim, facing one another, symbolize something dynamic: two scholars engaged in Torah dialogue — shnayim shenosnim v’nosnim b’divrei Torah. The written Torah is eternal truth — Torat emet. But Torah also lives in discussion, analysis, application, and debate — Torah Shebe’al Peh.

When we recite the blessing after an aliyah, we say:

וְנָתַן לָנוּ תּוֹרַת אֱמֶת וְחַיֵּי עוֹלָם נָטַע בְּתוֹכֵנוּ

“He has given us a Torah of truth and planted eternal life within us.”

The eternal truth lies in the Luchot; the “eternal life within us” lies in the living transmission of Torah. The Keruvim embody that vitality — Torah not as static text, but as vibrant, generational engagement.

The Language of Love

A third interpretation, drawn from the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples, sees the Keruvim as symbols of love. Chazal describe them as youthful figures, at times like a boy and a girl, facing each other with affection. Their image evokes Shir HaShirim — the love between husband and wife — which Chazal understand as a metaphor for the love between Hashem and Israel.

The Baal Shem Tov summarized his mission in three loves:

1. Ahavat Hashem — love of God.
2. Ahavat Yisrael — love of fellow Jews.
3. Ahavat Torah — love of Torah.

The Keruvim capture all three:

●      Their wings stretched upward — Ahavat Hashem.

●      Their faces toward one another — Ahavat Yisrael.

●      Their gaze downward toward the Luchot — Ahavat Torah.

Love is not peripheral to the Mishkan. It is its core.

The Voice Between the Keruvim

Most striking of all is where the Divine voice emerged:

וְנוֹעַדְתִּי לְךָ שָׁם… וְדִבַּרְתִּי אִתְּךָ מֵעַל הַכַּפֹּרֶת מִבֵּין שְׁנֵי הַכְּרוּבִים

“There I will meet with you… and I will speak with you from above the Kaporet, from between the two Keruvim” (שמות כה:כב).

The word of Hashem came from the space between them.

Not from the Luchot alone, not from Heaven alone, but from the space between love of God, love of Torah, and love of one another. That is where revelation continues.

A New Beginning

The building of the Mishkan marked a new chapter in Jewish destiny. Sinai was an overwhelming moment of Divine initiative. The Mishkan was an enduring structure of human participation. Klal Yisrael was called upon not merely to witness holiness, but to build it — to create a space in the physical world where sanctity, truth, and love converge.

At the heart of that sacred space stood two figures facing one another.

The message is timeless.

Torah must be held firmly. Love must flow generously. Heaven must be reached for. And the Divine voice emerges when these elements meet.

May we learn to recreate that inner Mishkan — where Ahavat Hashem, Ahavat Yisrael, and Ahavat Torah stand face to face — and may the voice that once spoke between the Keruvim continue to guide Klal Yisrael forward.

Hearth and Home

Have we already ticked the box, as it were, for building the Beit HaMikdash withour realizing it? Our member Rabbi Steve Ettinger looks behind the Mishkan's construction plans and asks some probing questions.

The Mishkan/Bet Hamikdash is likely the single most holy place in the Jewish religion. It is the focal point for our service of Hashem. In its heyday, it was the resting place of the Shechinah, the Divine presence, and was filled with miracles. Today, millions flock to the site where the first two Temples stood, to pray and to feel a greater connection to God’s “home.” However, if we delve into how Hashem described this structure (the Mishkan) and, more specifically, its special vessels, it could well be that, in fact, none of what many may think and believe about the function of this structure and this place is relevant. Hashem may have had a very different lesson in mind when He commanded us to build the Mishkan.

When you stop and think, Hashem certainly does NOT need or require a home. Before the Chet Ha’egel, according to some opinions, He might not have even commanded that Moshe build it. Maybe it was merely a part of the atonement process or a concession to the fact that the Bnei Yisrael were acculturated in a pagan world. For most of history, our religion has functioned and survived quite well without a Temple and without its service. In fact, His very command to construct it hinted at a spiritual rather than physical dwelling: וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם (“And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them”). Effectively, He wants to dwell “within” each Jew, not in some structure.

It is possible that the building or place itself is NOT at all important. Perhaps it is NOT intended to be or to represent Hashem’s abode on Earth or where He dwells. Rather, He may be giving an example of how and where the Jewish religion should primarily be observed. He is providing a visual representation so we can create homes where He can live with us and with our families.

This notion may seem radical but, before examining the minutiae of the Mishkan, stop and consider: we might be a nation, but it might be more accurate to characterize the Jewish People as a family. Our foundation is not built on rabbis, kings and priests but on Avot and Imahot, fathers and mothers.

Note that the laws of Mishkan construction are juxtaposed with the command to observe the Shabbat (Shemot Chapter 35). Accordingly, we derive all of the laws of prohibited work on the Shabbat (the 39 categories) from how the Jews built the Mishkan. Thus, it should be no mystery why the command to observe the Shabbat is listed on the tablet with the first five Commandments—those reserved for the relationship between Man and God. This placement illustrates this same connection between the holy day and Hashem’s “place.”

However, the commandment to honor our parents is also on that first Tablet. In fact, THIS is the commandment that is juxtaposed to the Shabbat!   Parents – family on the Luchot – are in the same relative position to the Mishkan and the Mikdash as Shabbat was in the Torah – they are identified as part of the Man-God relationship.

Keeping this in mind, let us examine the Mishkan/Mikdash more closely. Tthe structure itself is a tent (ohel), dwelling (mishkan) or house (bayit). Historically (other than the more affluent “modern” era), most dwellings had two basic areas – a larger main space where all of the daily living activities were conducted and a private sleeping area for the parents (or perhaps one large area with the parents’ beds behind a curtain for privacy). The Mishkan/Mikdash had a similar floorplan – a large outer chamber with multiple vessels and an inner chamber (or a section separated by a curtain).

Homes, of course, require illumination. For centuries the source of this light was candles and oil lamps. The menorah, an oil candelabra, provided this light. Families must also eat. The staples of the human diet have historically been bread and meat. Two of the other primary vessels found in the Mishkan/Mikdash are the shulchan (table) upon which the kohanim placed the lechem hapanim (show bread) every week and the outer mizbe’ach (altar) where animals (meat) were sacrificed. A home, of course, requires sanitary facilities. A large water basin called the kiyor was likewise situated within the confines of the Mishkan/Mikdash complex.

As mentioned above, people sleep in their homes. It certainly would not have been appropriate to situate beds or couches within the structure. In the presence of Hashem, one must be completely alert. However, sleep is the most intangible or ephemeral human state. A person is simply breathing when asleep and he is most closely connected his subconscious. A great metaphor for this could be the burning of the ketoret (incense). It is basically intangible, it is diffuse, one can only breathe it in -- yet it has so many physical components -- and it soars freely heavenward.

Finally, we turn to the Kodesh Kodashim. In the Mishkan and the Mikdash this is the abode of the Aron HaKodesh (the Holy Ark) that contains the two sets of tablets – both the broken ones and the complete ones. The Ark is topped with the two Cheruvim, child-faced angels (asexual), that are turned toward each other.

As noted, historically the second room for most homes (or the space separated by the curtain) was the parents’ bedroom. This is where they become partners with Hashem, where they are required to vigilantly keep the sanctity of the family through the laws of taharat hamishpacha (ritual purity).  The two angels, representing two generic children, are symbolic of their sacred duty of “peru urvu” (”be fruitful and multiply”). Marriage is called kedushin. The Aron has both the complete and broken tablets – some relationships, some families, are whole and some unfortunately can be broken and in His Mishkan/Mikdash Hashem acknowledges this reality as well.

Every time we complete the Amidah (and at other times, as well), we pray for Hashem to rebuild of the Bet HaMikdash speedily and in our days. However, it could be that we have overlooked that He has already built one for each of us and that He already dwells in it. Our homes should be the true Batei Mikdash. Our homes copy the blueprints that He commanded. However, they can either be empty shells (eitzim ve’avanim – wood and stone) or they can be places where the Shechinah resides. The difference is whether we perceive our homes as a Mishkan or Mikdash, or as mere shelter. Hashem does NOT require shelter. He will choose to dwell in a Mikdash that follows his blueprint. There is no need to wait – you can build it!

When there's more to beauty than meets the eye: the craft of Betzalel

Who is Betzalel--and can he really be so important when the Torah says so little about him? Our member Rabbi Paul Bloom lifts the lid on this remarkable personality whose contribution to the building of the Mishkan earned him eternal renown.

Betzalel: The Hidden Leader Who Built the Mishkan

A new name emerges in the history of the Jewish people, playing a crucial role in the leadership of the nation at a defining moment. This individual is not a figure we have encountered before, nor does he reappear later—yet his impact is profound. Betzalel ben Uri is entrusted with the monumental task of constructing the Mishkan, the sacred dwelling place of the Divine, in all its intricate detail, glory, and beauty.

Betzalel’s Lineage and Spiritual Legacy

Betzalel’s yichus (lineage) is notable. According to Rashi and Midrashic sources, he is the great-grandson of Miriam HaNeviah. Miriam married Calev ben Yefuneh, one of the two spies who remained faithful to Moshe Rabbeinu and resisted the negative report of the other ten spies. Their son, Hur, according to Chazal, was tragically killed during the episode of the Golden Calf. Hur’s grandson, Betzalel, now emerges in Parashat Vayakhel, chosen for his exceptional qualities and unique spiritual gifts.

The Torah describes Betzalel as being endowed with “wisdom, understanding, and knowledge” (Chochmah, Binah, and Da’at). These three attributes encapsulate the full spectrum of wisdom—intellectual acumen, deep comprehension, and divine inspiration. But why would an artisan need such profound spiritual qualities? Wouldn’t craftsmanship alone suffice for building the Mishkan?

The Spiritual Dimensions of Construction

The Mishkan was not just an architectural endeavor; it was a spiritual construct, mirroring the very fabric of creation. The Gemara (Berachot 55a) states that Betzalel knew how to arrange the letters with which Hashem created the heavens and the earth. This alludes to the Kabbalistic idea found in Sefer Yetzirah, which describes how each Hebrew letter contains divine energy. Betzalel was not merely assembling physical components; he was imbuing each element of the Mishkan with spiritual significance. Every detail corresponded to an aspect of Ma’aseh Bereishit, the creation of the world.

This concept has parallels in Halacha. Certain mitzvot require kavanah—intention—to sanctify objects. For example, matzot for Pesach must be made leshem mitzvat matzah, and a sofer writing a Sefer Torah must have the proper intent when inscribing the Name of Hashem. Betzalel’s task was to infuse each component of the Mishkan with the right spiritual intent, ensuring it became a true vehicle for Divine presence.

The Gift of Teaching

Another remarkable quality of Betzalel was his ability to teach. The Torah states that Hashem not only granted him wisdom but also lehorot natan belibo—the ability to instruct others (Shemot 35:34). Ibn Ezra notes that possessing wisdom and knowing how to convey it are distinct skills. Many brilliant scholars are poor teachers, unable to translate their knowledge into lessons others can grasp. Teaching requires empathy, generosity of spirit, and a desire to share wisdom.

The Mishkan’s construction was a communal effort, relying on the contributions and labor of the people. The Torah repeatedly emphasizes kol nediv lev—the voluntary generosity of the donors. Just as the materials for the Mishkan came from willing hearts, its construction needed to be guided by a leader who could transmit wisdom with a generous spirit. Betzalel embodied this ideal, ensuring that his fellow craftsmen understood not just the technical skills but the deeper sanctity of their work.

The Danger of Beauty

The name Betzalel—"in the shadow of God"—hints at his unique role. The Mishkan was designed to be a place of unparalleled beauty, and beauty carries inherent risks. Art and aesthetics can become ends in themselves, seducing people into valuing external appearances over inner truth. This was a hallmark of Greek philosophy, as expressed by the 19th-century poet John Keats: “Beauty is truth, truth beauty.” In contrast, the Jewish perspective, as seen in Shema Yisrael, emphasizes hearing and understanding rather than seeing alone. Beauty must serve a higher purpose—enhancing our connection to Hashem rather than becoming an object of worship.

This is why Betzalel required special divine protection. Tehillim 91, which begins with Yoshev beSeter Elyon, speaks of dwelling in the “shadow of the Almighty” (Betzel Shakkai). Chazal associate this chapter with protection from spiritual dangers. Betzalel’s artistic mastery had to remain in service of holiness, ensuring that the Mishkan’s beauty elevated rather than distracted.

A Leader of Vision and Integrity

Betzalel’s role was not just that of a master craftsman but of a spiritual architect. He understood that sacred work requires kavanah, generosity, and humility. He was a teacher who uplifted his people, ensuring they shared in the holiness of the Mishkan’s creation. Most importantly, he was a leader who maintained perspective—using beauty as a tool for Avodat Hashem rather than an end in itself.

When Hashem introduces Betzalel to Moshe, He says, Re’eh karati beshem Betzalel—“See, I have called Betzalel by name” (Shemot 31:2). The word Re’eh (see) is unusual; the Torah generally prioritizes hearing (Shema) over seeing. The Mishkan was a visual masterpiece, but its true essence was in its purpose—to create a dwelling place for the Divine. Betzalel ensured that this goal was never lost.

Though his name fades from the narrative after the Mishkan’s completion, Betzalel’s legacy endures. His wisdom, generosity, and devotion remind us that true leadership is about more than skill—it is about vision, intent, and a deep connection to a higher purpose.