How do you make space holy? Just a few days ago I met with a newly engaged couple for the first time. They are getting married in a year, and we took this first opportunity to get to know each other and to talk through the traditional steps of a Jewish wedding ceremony. There are two main parts, but the part that people are most familiar with is the ring exchange, which we call Kiddushin. Kiddushin comes from the word Kadosh, meaning holy.
When I speak to newly married couples, I share with them what my rabbi taught me about holiness when we were preparing for our own wedding. Holy does not mean “better than, or more special.” Holiness means separate, different, unique. Consecrated for a specific purpose. Shabbat is holy because it has a different purpose than the rest of the days of the week. The Jewish people are holy because we have a unique pathway and tradition that connects us to God and to each other. Not that we are better than anything else, just different. When you engage in kiddushin in a wedding ceremony, you are holy-ing this other person. You are saying this person is separate for me, and I am dedicating myself to them. I love this idea.
When we celebrate a wedding, or any lifecycle moment, You can engage in that ceremony anywhere. Doesn’t have to be in a synagogue per se, or a hotel ballroom. I bring this up because this couple has decided to get married at the Columbus Zoo. They love giraffes, and rented out the Africa Events Center so they could be close to the giraffes and so their guests can feed the giraffes after the ceremony too, though I don’t think the giraffes will be invited to participate in the hora.
Because of this unique venue choice, we spoke together about how we make that space feel holy. The main way we do that is by erecting a chuppah, this beautiful tent that we symbolically welcome everyone into. Even amidst this larger space, surrounded by animals, entering into the chuppah creates a container, a moment and space of intimacy where holiness can be created and made intentional.
As I made my way through this week’s Torah portion earlier this week I was stopped already by the first line of this new book of the Bible, Bamidbar.
וַיְדַבֵּ֨ר ה׳ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֛ה בְּמִדְבַּ֥ר סִינַ֖י בְּאֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֑ד בְּאֶחָד֩ לַחֹ֨דֶשׁ הַשֵּׁנִ֜י בַּשָּׁנָ֣ה הַשֵּׁנִ֗ית לְצֵאתָ֛ם מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם לֵאמֹֽר׃
GOD spoke to Moses in the wilderness of Sinai, in the Tent of Meeting, On the first day of the second month, in the second year after the exodus from the land of Egypt, saying:
Let’s try to take the sentence apart piece by piece.
במדבר סיני.
Where are we at this moment? We are still in the wilderness of Sinai after the giving of the Torah.
In Midrash Bamidbar Rabbah, the rabbis teach that the Torah was given with three elements: With fire, with water, and in the wilderness. We learn that it was given with fire from the verse
וְהַ֤ר סִינַי֙ עָשַׁ֣ן כֻּלּ֔וֹ
– “Mount Sinai was all smoke, [because the Lord had descended upon it in fire]” (Exodus 19:18).
We learn that it was given with water from the verse in our prophet Devorah’s song in the book of Judges:
אֶ֣רֶץ רָעָ֔שָׁה גַּם־שָׁמַ֖יִם נָטָ֑פוּ גַּם־עָבִ֖ים נָ֥טְפוּ מָֽיִם׃
– “Indeed, the heavens dripped, indeed, the clouds dripped water” (Judges 5:4).
And we learn that it was given in the wilderness from the first verse in our Torah portion. But why was it given with these three elements? This is what they say: Just as these are free for all humankind, so too matters of Torah are free, and should be accessible to all.
The Torah is here for all of us to hear, to experience, to take to heart. And it is actually most accessible when we turn ourselves into a wilderness – a blank and empty canvas on which the Torah can paint and inscribe its teachings and our values.
So we find ourselves in the wilderness. But also in a particular location,
בְּאֹ֣הֶל מוֹעֵ֑ד
, in the tent of meeting. Picture again that Chuppah next to the giraffes. Holiness erected in a place where we might not have found it a moment before. So too with the Tent of Meeting. The Israelites built for themselves a distinct place for holiness in a barren landscape. A place where they could intimately encounter God, where Moses could go to experience holiness and connection. Each moment of connection that Moses encounters in this new holy space is sacred in its own way.
Which brings us to the rest of the verse.
בְּאֶחָד֩ לַחֹ֨דֶשׁ הַשֵּׁנִ֜י בַּשָּׁנָ֣ה הַשֵּׁנִ֗ית לְצֵאתָ֛ם מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרַ֖יִם
On the first day of the second month, in the second year after the exodus from the land of Egypt.”
We are brought back to this exact moment in time. perhaps that phrasing sounds familiar in the Hebrew, as the rabbis explain that this is like the language written in a ketubah, a marriage contract, signing the time and the place to it, to imbue any space, even a barren wilderness or a giraffe enclosure, as holy.
The creation of ohalei mo’ed, Tents of Meeting, need not just be relegated to Biblical times and prophetic encounters with divinity. Especially now, we need to create designations of sacred space and time, places and moments that we can fill up with holiness, connection, and meaning. Shabbat, for me, is absolutely one of those containers. Our synagogue, Agudas Achim, aspires to be one of those containers, those holy tents of meeting. As Adina and I prepare to welcome a new baby, I am grateful for the Holy container of time our community has allowed us to create by giving me parental leave as we take care of our family.
But most importantly for today, a Bar Mitzvah of a young man who has practiced and studied and prepared to step up to lead us – that is a holy container to lift up. That is a holy container to celebrate. We are grateful for all of you who are contributing to creating this container today. As we continue this week into Shavuot, the moment of receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai, may we continue to find ways to cultivate holy containers even in unholy places and find meaning, connection, and joy in holy moments every day.
Shabbat Shalom
