In these days of war, when some of us in Israel are sealed in safe rooms, some are running to shelters, and all of us are trying to continue functioning under difficult conditions, spiritual work can be pushed to the margins. But it is precisely in days like these that we need sources of inspiration and spaces of the spirit most. These are days in which many of us feel the absence of a spiritual sanctuary – something to turn to and lift our eyes toward. Following the weekly Torah portion and the words of the poet Hayim Nahman Bialik (1873-1934), we will search for where that sanctuary might be found today.
The Tabernacle as an educational vision
The two Torah portions that conclude the Book of Exodus offer detailed instructions for building the Tabernacle and creating its furnishings. For Bialik, these ancient blueprints held a key to understanding modern Jewish life – not as ancient history, but as a living metaphor for what the Jewish people needed most.
In 1934, the architect Yaakov Yehuda exhibited in Tel Aviv a scale model of the Tabernacle constructed according to the Torah’s instructions. Bialik came to see it and later wrote the architect expressing deep gratitude. The model brought back childhood memories of struggling to understand these portions in his teacher’s classroom. Despite his teacher’s efforts, the complex details remained obscure, and Bialik suspected even his learned teacher didn’t fully grasp them. He proposed that every school should have such a replica, allowing students to see every detail and experience it as a source of beauty and delight.
But Bialik’s interest in the Tabernacle went far beyond physical models or childhood pedagogy. A year earlier, in 1933, when the Friends of the Hebrew University Association was founded in Tel Aviv, he delivered an address that revealed what the Tabernacle truly represented for him. He invoked a midrash describing how Moses received divine visions to guide him in building the Tabernacle. When Moses struggled to understand how to construct the sanctuary, the menorah, and even the half-shekel donation, God showed him each element as a vision of fire – the ideal form blazing before him.
Then Bialik made his bold claim: the Hebrew University, he declared, is our modern temple, the sacred space where the nation’s spirit resides. It is the nation’s mind, its own tabernacle of fire. Like the menorah symbolizing wisdom in ancient times, the university embodies the ideal of knowledge – a sacred vision requiring sustained effort to bring into being.
A shared vision
Bialik was not alone. Judah Leon Magnes (1877-1948), who would later become President of the University, made similar comparisons between the Tabernacle and the University. The Zionist activist Yeshayahu Karniel (1881-1942) drew parallels between the Tabernacle and the new Hebrew schools. These leaders shared a conviction: institutions of education and learning were the sanctuaries the Jewish people now needed to build.
This vision makes the state of such institutions today all the more troubling. Teacher training colleges are emptying out, schools face severe shortages of quality educators, humanities faculties are shrinking, and departments of Talmud and Jewish thought stand on the verge of closure.
The irony is sharp. According to Parashat Vayakhel, the Children of Israel threw themselves with such enthusiasm into building the Tabernacle that contributions had to be halted (Exodus 36:4-7). We face the opposite problem: our modern tabernacles are starving for support.
Bialik’s Warning
Bialik saw this danger coming. In concluding his 1933 address, he acknowledged that we are all busy with important matters, but insisted none is more vital than building a lasting home for Israel’s spiritual life. We must prioritize knowledge and spirit above all else. He invoked a stark warning: a city that allows its houses to rise higher than its temple is destined for destruction.
Building the land, Bialik insisted, requires more than physical labor – it demands intellectual and spiritual leadership. The mind must guide the hands and feet, not the other way around. Without a brain, the body cannot function. The body must follow the head – not the reverse.
We too are preoccupied with important matters – war, security, survival. And precisely for that reason, we must heed Bialik’s cry. The Tabernacles of our own times – our universities, our schools, our houses of learning – cannot be allowed to crumble while we attend to other urgencies. They are not luxuries to be postponed. They are the mind that must guide everything else.
Lior Tal Sadeh is an educator, writer, and author of “What Is Above, What Is Below” (Carmel, 2022). He hosts the daily “Source of Inspiration” podcast, produced by Beit Avi Chai.
For more insights into Vayakhel-Pekudei, listen to “Source of Inspiration”.
Translation of most Hebrew texts sourced from Sefaria.org
Main Photo: The erection of the Tabernacle and the Sacred vessels\ Wikipedia
