Vayetse 2020: A Small Sanctuary
In our Torah portion this week, Vayetse, Jacob and his father in law Laban set up a matzeivah together in order to seal a pact of peace. This monument, a stone stood upright as a pillar surrounded by a mound of stones, serves two purposes. One, to memorialize the moment of the pact, and two, to act as a boundary marker. As Laban puts it, “Look, this mound, and, look, the pillar that I cast up between you and me, witness be the mound and witness the pillar, that I will not cross over to you past this mound and you will not cross over to me past this mound, and past this pillar, for harm.”
Our early ancestors like Jacob raised matzeivot all the time. At the beginning of this week’s Torah portion, Jacob sets one up to mark the spot of his famous dream of a ladder upon which angels entered and left our world, and calls this place Bet El. In next week’s portion, he sets one up as a memorial to Rachel after she dies. But we read in Deuteronomy, “You shall not...erect a standing stone (matzevah); for such Adonai your God detests.”
The rabbis of old are anything but clarifying as to this conflict about matzeivot - so many lauded characters in the Torah set them up, yet the Deuteronomy prohibits them. Some say that this prohibition is only with regard to idolatry, some say that it is only if one is going to use the matzevah to offer sacrifices of incense, while some say any matzevah at all is forbidden.
Regardless of their estimation of the appropriateness of matzevot, the rabbis tend to agree that the one set up by Jacob in Bet El is a precursor to the Temple in Jerusalem which would be built on the very same spot. Midrash tells us that this pillar began as a mound of stones, which in their fervor to be a part of this sacred space, magically assembled together into a single pillar for him to set up. This means that the central location for connection with God, the place from which Torah would go forth, and the site which birthed the original unification of our people was built upon a forbidden structure.
The Temple, too, was seen as questionable by God in its founding. When David first suggested he build it, God responded, saying, “ Is it you who would build Me a house for Me to dwell in? For I have dwelled in no house from the day I brought up the Israelites out of Egypt until this day, but I have gone about in tent and tabernacle. Wherever I went about among all the Israelites, did I speak a word with any of the tribal chiefs of Israel whom I charged to shepherd My people Israel, saying, Why did you not build me a cedarwood house?”
God is clearly rebuking the idea that God would need a permanent home to dwell in at all. But we humans who dwell in time and space, stuck in material limitations, want something tangible and stable. So, God relented, and allowed the Temple to be built for our sake upon the similarly forbidden matzeivah of Jacob.
With regards to the matzevah that Jacob and Laban made together, there was both a mound of stones, and a pillar. Quite different from the pillar that Jacob constructed at Bet El, these two monuments represent two different orientations towards the way in which the sacred impinges upon the normal. They act as guideposts, in order to allow for those who come across them to connect mindfully and differently with space, be it sacred or profane.
The matzevah of Jacob’s ladder is clearly in an up and down orientation, itself representing a meeting place between heaven and earth. The matzevah and mound of Laban and Jacob’s pact has multiple orientations - the pillar creates a sacred up and down axis, while the many different rocks around it create a permeable barrier between that sacred and profane. A chasidic master of the last generation, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, viewed this as a sacred barrier that allows Jacob to cross over into Laban’s land without being tainted by the negative influences of Laban’s corrupt philosophy of life. These structures connect two realms, while also setting a clear boundary between them.
The stones we set up in cemeteries, as Jacob does for Rachel next week, represent a similar impulse. They, themselves, reach downwards - down towards the remnants of the beloved dead, attempting to build a connection between us and them. Some, too, reach upwards - attempting to build a connection between the dead and the Divine. Some, though, are mausoleums. They are houses, not unlike the Temple in Jerusalem which was built upon the place Jacob stood up his first matzeivah.
This is a third kind of monument, not quite like the others. Rather than reaching down, up, or out, it invites us in. This third kind of monument is precisely the one which has become the essence of Jewish building. When the first Temple was destroyed, the Prophet Ezekiel referred to buildings such as these in the Diaspora as a “Mikdash m’at” - a small Temple. After the second destruction, our Rabbis took this phrase to refer to synagogues and Jewish houses of study worldwide, as well as individual Jewish homes that issue forth Torah.
The sages went even further, suggesting that the dinner table in a Jewish home is parallel to the altar that once stood in the Temple in Jerusalem. This mikdash m’at, this small Temple, may actually be preferable to the large Jerusalem Temple of old. They create personal sacred space in which the Divine dwells. And, to reflect on the words of the Psalmist,
טוֹב-מְעַט לַצַּדִּיק מֵהֲמוֹן רְשָׁעִים רַבִּים׃
כִּי זְרוֹעוֹת רְשָׁעִים תִּשָּׁבַרְנָה וְסוֹמֵךְ צַדִּיקִים יְהוָה
The small is better for the righteous than the great is for the evil, for the strength of the evil shall be broken, while the righteous rely on Adonai.
Today, in many ways, the difference between the houses of gathering and our homes has been eradicated. We, when we wish to connect Divinely, can set up our own matzeivah, within our own Temple. Just as Jacob’s matzeivah existed as part of the Temple in Jerusalem, be they a computer, tablet, or phone, our matzeivot bridge the gap of space between our own mikdashim m’atim with sacred intention and contemporary technology.
These standing pillars of technology may not be permanent or stone structures, but they allow us to transcend our own small realms in order to reach into the wider sacred connection between all of us. Although we also use them for profane things like business, our homes, our individual mikdashim me’atim, can allow us to turn them into sacred objects. Our homes, which protect us, envelope us, and at their best allow us to feel the presence of God through their shalom, their wholeness of peace, can transform these profane matzeivot into tools that connect us to the Divine.
I pray that this Shabbat, each of you have felt this connection as you have joined us to celebrate our day of sacred rest. May each of you, wherever you are, find ways to create a mikdash me’at out of your homes by centering your intention, seeking a sense of connection, and grounding your sacred mindset for Torah. Then, when we connect with each other through our matzeivot, we build a community of mikdashim me’atim, of small, sacred spaces, all connected in time and space through the Divine. Shabbat shalom. Please join me on page 104 for the Adoration.
