Our vacation
in Arizona, visiting friends and family, was worth every warm minute. As
temperatures climbed into the 80s, we were exceedingly mindful of the gifts of
the sunshine. Eating outdoors, hiking in the mountains and canyons, wearing
sandals and a t-shirt all felt so liberating. On the day we left, we rose early
enough to catch the magnificent sunrise over the Santa Catalina Mountains from
Brian’s parents’ backyard. As the early morning light painted rippling colors across
the sky, we spent long minutes taking it all in. And then, we jumped in the car
to begin the long journey back home.
Upon
returning, we had a few spring-like days (in the 40s and 50s) to ease our transition
to New England winter, before the temperatures suddenly took a downward turn
with a return of the frigid cold. But the re-entry into this unusually brutal
winter was less of a shock than re-entry into the usual fast-paced workweek.
Overbooked.
While we managed to find seats on our flights, which departed and arrived on
time, it’s harder to squeeze our lives into the overcrowded schedule. As I’ve
gone from one meeting to another this week, I sense that I am not alone in
feeling overwhelmed. I am grateful that my days are full of holy events: witnessing
the immersion of a convert at the mikveh, sitting with people in mourning,
teaching Torah, and serving at Cradles to Crayons with our Leaving the Garden
(pre b’nai mitzvah) group. I would not want to “bump” any of these from my
overbooked schedule.
And yet,
we all need a little breathing room. I learned this lesson from the Torah
portions of last week and this coming Shabbat, Vayak’hel and Pekudei.
Both portions provide copious details of the construction of the mishkan, the portable tabernacle/sanctuary,
and all of its furnishings: the oil menorah, sacrificial altar, basin, incense
burners, tents and coverings, and of course, the holy ark that housed the two
tablets from Mount Sinai. On first reading (second, if you fell asleep the
first time), there seems to be little room for the mishkan’s spiritual content. These portions are “overbooked” with
concrete materials and descriptions.
How can
we find the spiritual purpose within these verses? Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman
Epstein, in the Hasidic commentary Ma’or VaShemesh, spoke to this seeming
omission. Knowing that our lives demand a balance of the material and the
spiritual, he imagined that the artisan Bezalel, who oversaw the construction of
the mishkan, infused its creation
with the lessons of Shabbat. Knowing the experience of rest and rejuvenation
that comes from Shabbat, Bezalel and the workers he guided pursued their craft
with an intention that shaped the mishkan’s
spiritual essence. The physical offerings of gold, silver, fabric and jewels
that the Israelites brought were given in a spirit of love and generosity. The workers
gave their own offering by making their work a labor of love. All of this was
inspired by the idea and experience of Shabbat, adding a dose of Shabbat to
every plank and every thread.
How does
their work relate to our own? Like the builders of the mishkan, we can breathe spiritual purpose into the spaces of our
overscheduled lives. We don’t have to wait until Shabbat to rest. With each
breath we have an opportunity to pause. By stopping to notice what we are doing and
how we are doing it, we can invite Shabbat into the workweek. We can enlarge
the spaces between meetings and phone calls and emails and, through that moment
of breath, rediscover our purpose. Just as
Bezalel understood that his work had a higher purpose – to create a space for divinity/holiness
, so we can invest our work with intention and purpose and thereby make our
work holy.
Vacations
are wonderful. Shabbat is a gift. But we don’t need to overwork and overbook
our lives while we wait for vacation or Shabbat to arrive. I can recapture that
sunrise in the blink of an eye, and be renewed and awakened to holiness right now.
Postscript:
This past week, whenever I’ve mentioned Arizona, the talk immediately
turned to the immoral and discriminatory Arizona legislation to allow
businesses to refuse to serve gays and lesbians. Governor Jan Brewer was prudent
in vetoing this reprehensible bill. With all of the friends and family we have
in Phoenix, Tucson and Flagstaff, we know that the intention of that bill did
not reflect the sentiments of a majority of Arizonans. Let’s celebrate those
who spoke up to defeat this legislation and who continue to fight for human
rights and justice in Arizona. And thank you, Jon Stewart, for calling the bill "morally repugnant."
