In this day and age, the Temple seems like an anachronism. We do not know of any temples or visit any temples. At most, those of us who have been to the Far East have encountered  statue-filled temples. Once could conclude, perhaps, that temples are at odds with monotheistic thought. Yet the Temple plays a major role in Jewish worship, and especially in Leviticus. In order to understand the idea of the Temple in depth, we will visit a contemporary temple on the Indian subcontinent. It is a temple belonging to a monotheistic religion, and is thus devoid of idols and icons. A comparison between that temple and the Temple in Leviticus can help us to better understand ourselves, as well as find philosophical allies in the world of religions.

Solidarity and Equality in Sikhism

Some five hundred years ago, Guru Nanak established Sikhism in northern India. The religion (the word “sikh” means “disciple”) blends elements of Hinduism and Islam. A synthesis can be a success or a failure, and Guru Nanak created a successful synthesis, taking the good from each religion and discarding their negative baggage. He eschewed, for example, Hinduism’s idolatrous elements while spreading the idea of Niranjan, the worship of a single, formless God. Nanak even imported, by way of Islam, Jewish ideas, such as the conception of God watching over and steering reality, the notion of Creation as an expression of God’s will (which comes from Kabbala), and the idea of equality between all human beings. Nanak opposed the caste system, which is based on the assumption that there are entire segments of society with which one must not come in contact, and whose members are doomed to spend their entire lives in hard labor.

The Sikhs also differ from the Hindus in their approach to life and family. The monastic ideal plays a minor role in Sikhism, and the adherent is instructed to marry and have a family. Furthermore, the Sikhs rejected the passivity of yogis who dedicate their lives to asceticism and meditation. The three pillars of Sikhism are Nām Japna (remembrance and recitation of the divine Name), kirat karō (honest work), and “vand chakkō (giving alms).

Nanak adopted from Hinduism a profound tolerance for all human beings. While Islam emphasizes the idea of jihad, or holy war, and Christianity stresses the obligation to convert heretics through missionary work (“outside the Church there is no salvation”), for Nanak the faithful are not only those who identify as Sikhs, but rather any who live according to the basic precepts of faith. Faith in a single God, according to Nanak, is an element that unites all of humanity. The one God is the father of all human beings. It was in a similar vein that Maimonides wrote of Islam, “The Ishmaelites are not idol worshipers in the least…and they pay perfect tribute to God’s unblemished singularity” (Maimonides’ Responsa 448). It is possible that it was due to their emphasis of these elements that the Sikhs’ history has been so similar to our own: they are a small, persecuted minority in India, and yet, they are also successful in a vast range of fields.

The Blessing of the Sons

In 2005, a group of Sikh leaders visited Israel. One of their goals in visiting was to learn how Judaism, one of the most ancient of world religions, succeeded in sustaining its heritage through the generations. A Shabbat meal at the home of my friend Alon Goshen, the rabbi who hosted the group, made a powerful impression on them. In his comments, Sikh leader Bhai Sahib Mohinder Singh Ji described the special meaning of the Shabbat meal, which is not only a spiritual idea, but also spiritual action: “The beauty of Shabbat showed us what we need in our family life. How inspiring to see [that] every Friday they meet with the family – that parents bless their children [with their hands].” During the visit, Rabbi Eliyahu Bakshi-Doron, one of the Israeli chief rabbis at the time, noted the values shared by the two religions and called on Jews and Sikhs to learn about each other’s communities.

If Islam and Christianity can be described as the daughters of Judaism, it seems that Sikhism, which was influenced by Islam, is its granddaughter. It is no wonder, then, that Jews and Sikhs get along so well – we all know that people’s relationships with their grandparents are far less complicated than their relationships with their parents.

The holiest site in Sikhism is the Harmandir Sahib, also known as the Golden Temple. The gold-covered complex, which was completed in 1604, is located on an artificial island in the center of a pool in the city of Amritsar, near the India-Pakistan border. When I visited India, I refrained from entering temples due to the Jewish law that forbids entry into places of idol worship. But the Golden Temple does not fall under that category, and when I entered it I was struck by the similarities to – but also the differences from – our own Temple.

The Jewish and Sikh temples are similar not only in what is conspicuously absent from them – idols – but also in terms of their content. The Golden Temple houses the original Sikh scripture, the Guru Granth Sahib, just as the ark in the heart of the ancient Jewish Temple contained the Stone Tablets of Moses and the first Torah scroll, written by Moses. At the center of the Sikh temple, an old man in white vestments sits and reads from the Guru Granth Sahib, surrounded by a group of elders, also clothed in white, who play music. This recalls the atmosphere in the Temple, in terms of both the white vestments of the ministers and the musical instruments, which in Jerusalem were played by the Levites.

I was impressed especially with the eating rituals in the Golden Temple. Every visitor, upon entering, receives a helping of food. The ritual has a moral implication: everyone eats together (in contrast with the prevalent attitude in Hinduism, where one does not eat with members of a lower caste). The ritual reminded me of the eating of the burnt offerings in the Jewish Temple. When it comes to the Pascal lamb for example, all Jews eat the same sacrifice in the same place, in a national meal meant to drive home the fact that we are all free.

Another similarity is the welcoming atmosphere it both temples: the Golden Temple is open from all four directions and features a hostel for non-Sikh guests. Those are expressions of an openness to all of humanity that echoes Isaiah’s prophecy about the future Temple: “For My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples” (Is. 56:7). Indeed, already during the dedication of the First Temple, King Solomon asks God to heed the prayers of “the stranger that is not of Thy people Israel” (I Kings 8:41–43).

Yet, alongside the many similarities between the two temples, there are also differences. The Temple in Jerusalem occupies a far more central role in Jewish life – including thousands of years of mourning for the destruction of the Temple and yearning for it to be rebuilt – than the Golden Temple does in the Sikh religion, where it is of relatively minor importance.

Perhaps the difference stems from the varying meanings associated with the temple in the two religions. Sikhism does not contain a concept of sanctity of place and time. The significance of the Golden Temple is an expression of the fact that it houses the religion’s original scripture. The absence of discrete holiness – such as in time or place – stems inter alia from the idea that God is everywhere. Although Judaism, too, believes that no place is devoid of His presence, it retains an idea of sanctity of place. Judaism believes there are special sites that facilitate intimacy and an encounter between human and divine.

It is due to this conception of holiness that the Temple is designed in a manner that is at once welcoming and removed and exclusive. The Temple is open on one side to all – women and men, Jews and gentiles alike – and all are allowed to bring offerings, but the farther in one progresses, the more stringent the demands. Entry into the heikhal, the main sanctuary, is contingent on special physical and spiritual preparation, and there are places where one is forbidden from entering. In the encounter with the divine there is a constant dance between revelation and concealment, a running and returning (ratzo vashov).

If holiness is to dwell within a secular world, there is need for boundaries and separation. Thresholds are there to awaken our sense of the sacred.

I will illustrate this point with something that happened to my wife, Michal. One day, she received an urgent phone call from a student of hers who was studying to become a tour guide in Jerusalem. This student was standing with her tour group and waiting for the security check before ascending to the Temple Mount, and she was deliberating whether to enter or not. Michal fell silent for a moment, thinking about the best way to inform the student that according to Jewish law, it is forbidden to enter the Temple Mount without having first immersed in a mikve. My wife’s hesitation gave her thoughts away. “I get it,” the student said. “So I should not go in?” Michal replied, “It is up to you. The question is whether you consider this place a tourist attraction or a holy site, a place where one goes to see God’s face.” A few minutes later, Michal received a text message from the student: “They went in, I am outside.”

A few days later, I attended a student’s wedding. Under the bridal canopy, she told the assembled guests that after immersing herself ahead of her wedding, she ascended the Temple Mount for the first time in her life to pray . A lifetime of planning for her wedding had carved in her heart a path ascending into holiness, and then, on this most special day of intentions and preparations, she entered God’s Temple Mount.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)