God created the world, a home for us. This is how the Torah begins. In this week’s parashah, the inverse begins to happen. The Jewish People are commanded to build a house for God, a Mishkan:

וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם (שמות כה:ח)

They will make me a sanctuary, and I will dwell amongst them (Shemot 25:8)

They are commanded to bring the necessary materials for its construction: gold, silver, copper, wool, linen, leather, and wood, amongst others. Wood, of which the structure of the Mishkan would be made, is in short supply in any desert. The commentators, therefore, were left to suggest novel explanations as to where they sourced the wood. Rashi (25:5) quotes a Midrash:

But from where did they get this in the wilderness? Rabbi Tanchuma explained it thus: Our forefather Yaakov foresaw by Divine revelation that Israel would one day build a Mishkan in the wilderness: he therefore brought cedars to Egypt and planted them there and commanded his children to take these with them when they would leave Egypt.

The Ibn Ezra (25:5) rejects this approach and prefers a more practical one. It would be implausible that the Jews, who originally told the Egyptians that they would be gone for a mere three days, could have left Egypt burdened with large beams of timber. That would have given the game away. Rather, he is forced to conclude that next to Mount Sinai there must have been some woodland. The nation used this wood to build the huts that provided them shelter in the desert (later commemorated on Sukkot). After being commanded to build the Mishkan, the Jews took from their own personal supply of wood and donated it. This is a striking image: the Jews took wood from their own houses to build a house for God.

Although methodologically radically diffferent, this message resounds strongly, with the concealed theme of Rashi’s midrash. To unveil it, we have to peel back the mysterious layers of the midrash by tracking down its paper trail: This idea makes its first appearance during the concluding scenes of the epic story of Yoseph and his brothers. Yaakov, having been informed that his beloved son is not dead but alive, plans to travel to Egypt to see him. One would expect that after so many painful years, and such joyful news, he would travel without hesitation or interruption to see his son. Yet, the Torah tells us that he took a minor detour: he stopped off at Be’er Sheva. The Torah gives no reason for this; it is left for the Midrash to fill the gap:

Where did he go? Rabbi Nachman says: He went to chop down the trees that Avraham, his grandfather, had planted in Be’er Sheva… Rabbi Levi says the inner beam (of the Mishkan) was thirty-two handbreadths, so where would they find it at that hour? Rather, it must be that they (the Jews), had them (the trees) stored among them from the days of Yaakov our Forefather. (Bereishit Rabbah 94:4)

We now understand where Yaakov sourced the trees, but when and why did Avraham plant them? There is a peculiar passuk in Parashat Vayera that describes this planting:

וַיִּטַּ֥ע אֶ֖שֶׁל בִּבְאֵ֣ר שָׁ֑בַע וַיִּ֨קְרָא־שָׁ֔ם בְּשֵׁ֥ם ה’ אֵ֥ל עוֹלָֽם (בראשית כא:לג)

He planted an “Eshel” in Be’er Sheva, and he called in the name of Hashem, the God of the world (Bereishit 21:33).

“Eshel”: Rav and Shmuel offered different interpretations. One said it was an orchard, from which he would bring fruit for his dining guests. The other said it was an inn for hospitality, and it had many fruits inside it… It was through this Eshel that Hashem became God to the whole world…

The Gemara (Sota 10a) explains this idea further:

After they ate and drank, they stood to bless him (Avraham). He (Avraham) said to them: Did you eat from what was mine?! (Rather) You ate from the Master of the Universe. They thanked, praised, and blessed He who spoke and the world came into being…

Both interpretations of Eshel converge on the same idea. It was a place of hospitality, perhaps a tree that gave shade to Avraham’s guests. Avraham is often mentioned as hosting his guests under his tree. It was there, by the entrance of his simple tent, that Avraham taught monotheism to mankind. There are around 4.4 billion monotheists today, all due to one man who did not even have a house.

Avraham may have had no house, but he had a home of great significance. This tent was the meeting point of Heaven and Earth. Travelers came to rest in his tent, but in his home they began a new journey. The people who entered were not the same as the people who left. Avraham taught kindness; kindness taught appreciation; appreciation taught recognition; recognition taught change. Avraham spoke in a voice soft enough for people to listen, but loud enough that it continued to be heard thousands of years later. Person by person, kindness by kindness, conversation by conversation, under his tree he began to change the world. Thanks to Avraham, Heaven came down to Earth.

Yaakov was on his final journey; he would not return to Israel alive. This journey would change history forever. The Jews would enter Egypt as a family and leave as a nation. Yaakov knew this and acted accordingly. If they would go to Egypt, they would have to take something with them. A souvenir. He chose his grandfather’s trees. However, these trees were not just a symbol of the past; they were the needle of their compass, giving them the direction of their future. His children and grandchildren planted a forest from those mementos. When they left Egypt, they took their grandfather’s trees with them. Two centuries later, there were many more trees and many more people. The trees that had descended with them to Egypt would continue to accompany them when they left.

When the time came to build the Mishkan, what better material could be used? God’s house had already been built once. It would be rebuilt again. The trees had become a forest. The humble tent would become a Mishkan. But the purpose remained unchanged. The Jews, like Avraham before them, would continue to bring Heaven down to Earth.

וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם: (שמות כה:ח)

They will make me a sanctuary, but I will dwell amongst them (Shemot 25:8).

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)