Getting to the place where we once were
In reference to the portable mishkan /sanctuary, Rabbi Yechiel Perr1 writes about the differences in spiritual understanding between those ‘on the inside’ and those ‘on the outside’. Once you enter that sacred space, you are changed by the experience. It is so powerful, and at once so personal.
In today’s times, we might have a hard time relating to what being part of that community meant. Though difficult to imagine the sacrificial system, with its slaughter, removal of entrails (or not) and blood sprinkling, at its basic level it was about a choice to give up something extremely special to you.
In the wilderness, there were no ‘Montana-like’ herds roaming the grasslands. Food for animals was limited —- as of course it was for humans2. Livestock were guarded preciously and were not taken for granted. Perr explains: “Living our sanitized modern lives, today we have almost no contact with living animals. In those times however, the korbanos3 / offerings were taken from domestic animals that people saw and touched every day4.” He suggests that for every animal that was brought as an offering, the person bringing it had an extremely close connection. That connection was palpable and as a result, the person felt “purified, uplifted, and holy” afterwards. These feelings were not shared by ‘outsiders’, those who hadn’t participated in the experience.
Is this something that we can even imagine? Are we all outsiders today? What would it mean for us to be on the inside?
Perhaps it will help to understand how much was at stake when bringing an animal offering to the mishkan in the first place. Maybe you would bring an animal you cared for over a long period of time. Maybe some in the flock were like pets to you…and your children gave them names. Each one had a distinct personality and perhaps in knowing them and they you, the beloved animal approached you when it saw you coming…maybe exhibiting immense joy at the prospect of being given a meal. Or receiving affection from you. Or barring that scenario, maybe you paid a premium price (who knows how much and what kind of payment) for an absolutely flawless specimen that you owned for a much shorter time.
Yet now it is time for you to bring one of the best of the lot, one that is perfect, without a mark or blemish, to the communal mishkan as a sacrifice. Your offering needs to be the most special pick of the flock. It will be judged by others in order to pass ‘inspection’. And you, yourself will lay your hand on its head before it is killed.
But, instead of feeling sad or angry about it, you are feeling lucky to be so privileged! Your offering was accepted! You are grateful for all the material gifts you’ve been given, represented by just this one. You are incredibly happy at being able to express your appreciation in this way.
How can we understand this?
What are we actually asked to give up in today’s times when we substitute our prayers for our physical offerings? How can we experience some of that intense and primal emotion that was part of the mishkan ritual? We are only asked to give up our time, and some (myself included) resist even that. Being at services just takes so long…..
Sitting or standing (more likely, sitting, then standing, then sitting, then standing….etc.) in a synagogue, trying to pray without making too much of a whispered sound, trying not to disturb others, yet aware of the chitchat by some, well, it is nearly impossible to reach a peak of emotion. But I yearn to feel that connection.
This is our modern conundrum. We gave up the visceral for the intellectual. We no longer experience the highest of heights. Instead, we have to figure out how to bring ourselves up from the depths. This is where we experience the immense pull of rationality, the propensity to acquire, and the need to feed our egos.
Yet there is that still, small voice in our inner being. That unmistakable connection to something greater, more expansive, more sacred…which defies explanation. So we keep at it. We try different tools: meditation, chanting, psilocybin events, visualization, sound baths, salt caves, and all manner of things to get us where we once were. We are trying, working very hard to get us to that place.
I think about Jacob’s very modern vision. Jacob awakes from his sleep when he dreams of a ‘stairway to heaven’: “Surely The One is present in this place, and I did not know it!”
He exulted in how awesome this world is. And this is what we are able to achieve….being in Heschel’s state of ‘radical amazement’5. This is how we need to live. Using whatever tools will work for us. To get us to that place, that place of connection.
in Shoshanas Ha’amakim
Food was an issue in the wilderness which the Torah portrays multiple times. One example: grumbling about the lack of food, and specifically the lack of meat: “[they] had a craving, a hunger-craving…who will give us meat to eat?” (Numbers 11:4)
The Hebrew root word of this is K-R-B / kuf - reish - bet which means to bring close. This is not by chance and there are many spiritual writings which talk about this type of connection to the All-One.
Ibid., p.126
“Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. ....get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.” ― Abraham Joshua Heschel