blogs/rabbi-huberman

Parashat Terumah " You shall accept gifts from every person whose heart moves them." (Exodus 25:2)

Where Does God Live?

This is a “sneak preview” of the keynote speech I will deliver next spring at the annual meeting of a Jewish Federation in a city a few hours from Long Island.

I will talk about where God truly lives.

First, the bad news: The Jewish community, like many others, is suffering from dwindling synagogue attendance. There are fewer “Jews in the pews.”

Some elders complain: “Where are the young people?” Now, the good news: Studies indicate that younger Jewish generations are becoming increasingly committed to their heritage. Thanks, in part, to Birthright, they are now more tied than ever to their Jewish identity and to the State of Israel.

So, what do we do with this “bad news, good news?” My answer is that Jewish leaders must take God on a “road trip.” 

Because these days, Jews find God not only within a religious sanctuary. Many are embracing what they consider to be a more “authentic view” or God, spirituality and Judaism.

God lives within our homes, in nature, around the dinner table, at work, in our relationships—wherever Jews and those we interact with convene. I believe that message is embedded, in this week’s Torah portion titled Terumah—“Gifts.”

The parashah begins with God’s request that everyone bring gifts to help build and adorn the “tabernacle,” the tent which housed the newly acquired 10 Commandments. Says the Torah, “You shall accept gifts from every person whose heart moves them.” (Exodus 25:2)

And the Israelites are moved. They bring gems, precious metals, textiles, wood, oil and spices.

I love this commandment because it affirms that we all connect with God differently—that each of us is unique, that every one of us has something that makes us unlike anyone else who has ever lived or will ever be.

Why did God make this request? Surely God didn’t need all of this “stuff?” The Torah provides a clue, saying, in God’s words, “Make Me a sanctuary that I will dwell among them.” (Exodus 25:8)

The commandment confirms that God does not live in some distant heaven. God lives on earth— within us and among us. Next spring, at the conference, I will explore the topic, “Where does God actually live?” Is it exclusively within a hall of pews, is it within a desert tent, or is there more?

As I write this, my niece is about to give birth. She is a sanctuary, and God is there. Our bodies are sanctuaries. They provide our souls with dwelling places. Do we truly honor that sanctuary?

The morning dew, a brilliant sunset, blue skies, sunshine, a snowfall, ocean waves and the power of a thunderstorm.

Who among us has not experienced the feeling that there is a reality beyond us, and that we are just passengers on some eternal journey? So, where exactly is God’s sanctuary?

Too many communities—too many Jews—define their connection to Judaism by how often they attend religious services. For some not attending is a source of guilt.

And, while I fervently believe that communal prayer—expressing our inner longings within the synagogue—is integral and essential to Judaism, this week’s Torah portion teaches that what is precious to one may be different to another.

Many interfaith couples feel lost within traditional Judaism. Perhaps religious leaders need to facilitate Shabbat gatherings in homes, where couples can get together, sip wine, share a healthy meal, sing melodies, and reflect upon the relevance of that week’s parashah.

Perhaps we need to empower clergy to lead a nature walk or an outdoor meditation. Perhaps we need to expand our understanding of which foods or products are “ethically” kosher or not.

Perhaps we need to consider that Jewish eating is more than bagels or pastrami—that it extends to healthier options—and that begins with the food we offer after religious services.

God is also there when we gather food and clothes for those in need, or when we stand with Israel. God exists within our concern for those who are “unhoused.” 

How ironic that with attendance at so many synagogues dwindling, so many feel more Jewishly connected than ever.

I am going to ask at the conference, “Where and when do you feel God’s presence the most?” Wherever that is, organized Judaism and its leaders need to go there.

In the early pages of the Torah, our patriarch, Jacob, rests his head on a rock in the middle of the desert after a long day’s journey.

Surrounded by sand and sun, he dreams of a ladder extending from the earth to the heavens, with angels ascending and descending.

When he awakens, he declares, “God was in this place, and I did not know it.” (Genesis 28:16)

This will be my message to the conference: Religion needs to extend beyond its concrete walls. God dwells everywhere, and we need to expand our tent of understanding.

For—as a religion—if we do not muster the courage to embrace the additional sanctuaries of our lives beyond just “bricks and mortar,” then others—including the plentiful false gods of social media and the internet—will do it for us.

God dwells within each of us. There are so many gifts we can bring to those in need, to our families, at work, as we stand up against injustice, how we expand our definition of a sanctuary.

Where does God truly live? It is not just within desert tents.

We can bring gifts within God’s creation through the next positive thing that we do.

And, as I will share, the Judaism of today and tomorrow needs to expand how we define where God lives—and to commit its gifts and resources—to dwell with God there.

Shabbat Shalom, v'kol tuv. 

Rabbi Irwin Huberman.