A Jewish Home Parshas Terumah
Contrary to popular belief, ‘what does not kill you makes you stronger,’ was not first coined by Kelly Clarkson. It was Nietzsche who argued that adversity and challenges, while they could be debilitating, can also bring out our greatest strengths. As a people, we have experienced this time and time again; in the aftermath of persecution, there has always been an explosion of creativity and brand-new spiritual horizons. October 7th is no exception. Over the past two years, there has been an awakening among Jews who never practiced Judaism or acknowledged their heritage in public. Led by the likes of Michael Rappaport, Montana Tucker, Jerry Seinfeld, and Gal Gadot, Jewish pride is trending. You see more Magen Dovid necklaces than ever before. More Israeli flags and pins. More Jewish college kids attending Hillel and Chabad. More public high schoolers starting NCSY JSU clubs in their schools. There is a Chabad rabbi on social media who publishes pictures of himself wrapping with celebrities like the rapper, Lil Dicky, the actor, James Franco, the billionaire, Bill Ackman, and the influencers, the Nelk Boys.
All of this is beautiful. But it’s also very public. Much of what has been publicized is, understandably, forward-facing Judaism, Jewish practices in the public sphere. What I’d like to talk about today is Judaism in the private sphere, more specifically, the characteristics of a Jewish home. The Torah places a premium on spiritual practices that are done in private. Public acts can be motivated by public approval; private acts are authentic. Rav Chaim Vital writes that when G-d will judge us on our interpersonal relationships, He will only judge us on how we acted in the confines of our home; because how we act at home is who we really are.
So what does a Jewish home look like?
(If you drive through Pikesville, you would say a Jewish home means ripping down the old home and building something twice the size but that’s not what we’re talking about…)
Allow me to give you a tour of the Jewish home by giving you a virtual tour of the very first Jewish home, the Mishkan.
As you enter, you will notice a table – the Shulchan and on it, loaves of bread. This is actually one of the most radical ideas that Judaism brought into the world. Zoroastrians believed that there was good and evil. Christianity adopted that same binary thinking demarcating between spiritual and physical. But Judaism posits that good and evil all come from the same source, that the physical realm is not evil, it is actually where we have the greatest opportunity for spiritual growth. And so, in Judaism, food becomes a central part of faith. On Shabbos we are commanded to eat and eat well, and every day of the week, we are instructed to work and to use our physical belongings to create a better world.
The dining room table in Judaism is holy. It’s where meaningful conversations are supposed to take place, it’s where mothers express their love through cakes and roasts, and most importantly, it’s where we make space for those outside our family and invite them in and make them feel “like members of our household.” I’ve shared with you before how in certain parts of Germany there was a custom to use one’s dining room table as one’s coffin, as if to say, let this table testify to how I used the material world and my material gifts to serve my fellow Jew and to serve G-d.
On the right is a Menorah. Like in every culture, this candelabra represents the intellect. Whereas in Greek culture, the philosopher walks the streets with the lamp of inquiry, in Judaism, the lamp of intellectual engagement is in the home. V’’dibarta bam b’shivtecha b’veisecha. Rabbi Sacks would often quote Isadore Rabi, winner of a Nobel Prize in physics, who was once asked how he became such an accomplsihed scientist. He replied, “Every other child would come back from school and be asked, ‘What did you learn today?’ But my mother used to ask: ‘Izzy, did you ask a good question today?’ That made the difference. Asking good questions made me a scientist.” In a Jewish home, there is no question that should ever be off-limits. Curiosity and intellectual honesty are hallmarks of our peoplehood.
Even before you see it, you will smell the next piece of furniture in the Mishkan. Further down the corridor, centered between the Table and the Menorah is the small altar on which daily incense was burned. Every home has a smell. I don’t mean that the house smells musty or like someone likes to pour an entire bottle of Tide into the laundry. What I mean is that there is an intangible energy in every home. In some homes you walk through the door and you feel at ease, like you belong there. In other homes, you feel on guard.
To make Ketores, incense, one had to be exceptionally precise; there was little room for failure. One extra kernel of the wrong spice would throw off the entire batch. And the same is true for the emotional energy in a home. Last week we hosted a beautiful roundtable on education. Dr. Schorr talked about the intangible smell of the home but she used a slightly different metaphor – temperature. She encouraged us to constantly take the temperature of our home. Does it feel stuffy right now, like everyone’s walking on eggshells? Does it feel volatile, voices are all climbing in pitch? Adjust the temperature. And if you can’t adjust it, then take a break. One of the silliest pieces of marriage advice I hear people give is never go to sleep angry at your spouse. Did you get the same advice? What if the temperature is at the boiling point, are you sure you want to have a conversation now? No, you do not.
We need to accustom ourselves to taking the temperature or taking a whiff. How does my house smell? The intangible energy of a home is impacting you and everyone inside. If it feels warm, smells inviting and loving, amazing. If it doesn’t and you could change it, great. If not, open a window, take a break, go to sleep, and start over again tomorrow. The avodah beings anew every day.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, we move on to the master suite, the most important room in G-d’s house. The Kodesh Hakadoshim where the Aron resided. It’s a beautiful room, it has the most intricate furniture, but it all revolves around one thing – the Torah, the two tablets and a Torah scroll. And that’s because the true hallmark of a Jewish home is the bookcase filled with Jewish books.
The bookcase in a Jewish home is not a piece of furniture, it is where the past, present, and future of Judaism merge. Dusty books with broken spines inherited from a grandparent. Tear-filled Siddurim into which you poured your greatest dreams. Books with underlines and sticky-notes and pages turned over. The messier the bookcase, the more beautiful; it’s a sign of them being used.
The truth is that even the books never cracked open carry their own quiet beauty. My children sometimes ask whether I have read every volume lining my shelves. Of course not. But books are not only records of what I know; they represent my aspirations. Rabbi Moshe Hauer z”l kept a book about overcoming anger on his desk; he said he never read it, yet its presence alone reminded him to keep his cool. I dream of the day when I have the time to fully immerse myself in the worlds waiting on my shelves, but until then, those books gently call me toward the person I hope to become.
Over the past two years, while many celebrities were powerfully expressing their Judaism in public, many of you were powerfully expressing their Judaism in private. I think it’s safe to say that most of your bookcases have grown these past two years; more volumes of the Talmud, Mishnayos, books like Understanding Your Prayer and Living the Blessing are now on your shelves. And whether you understood or remembered or even read every word, they represent who you want to be. You have transformed your home and in doing so, you have transformed yourself.
Once again, thanks to the vision and determination of Ari Weiss, we are launching another initiative of daily learning. This time we will be studying a beautiful book called Living Chessed. There are flyers that will be handed out during Mussaf that have a QR code on them and after Shabbos, you can order your own copy at the highly subsidized price of $10. I look forward to learning together, to growing together, and to growing my Jewish bookcase, making my home a replica of G-d’s home.
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Before there was a Mishkan, there was a Jewish home. In Egypt, on Seder night the Jews were instructed to bring an offering but there was no communal temple. Instead, the “doorposts were the altar,” the home was the sanctuary. At the table sat family, friends, and also individuals who had no family and perhaps not too many friends. This was the original Shulchan.
At that table sat children who asked questions, whose curiosity was encouraged, who were not ignored by the adults, but were listened to. The original Menorah.
We can just imagine the tension in the air; the screams outside from the Egyptians, the anxiety around leaving Egypt the next morning. And yet, the parents held it together, ensuring that the environment was loving and warm. The very first expression of Ketores.
And of course, that meal, those children’s questions, the parents calm energy, all became part of the Biblical story, finding a special place in the Aron, and eventually onto the bookcases of our Jewish homes.