[Your weekly guest post from The Candy Man. - LNM]
What does the term אֹהֶל מוֹעֵד—“tent of meeting”—really mean? In this week's Torah portion (Ex. 40:7, 40:34), the term refers to the Tabernacle. Similarly, verses that describe sacrifice (Lev. 1:3, eg.) often mention the altar in the “tent of meeting”—obviously, the Tabernacle.
Just a few chapters ago, the term אֹהֶל מוֹעֵד was first introduced (33:7). There, it says that after the golden calf, Moses moved “the tent” outside the camp and named it the “tent of meeting.” It’s possible that this refers to moving the Tabernacle (as King James translates there)—if so, we must propose that the Tabernacle was built before the golden calf. This is highly problematic.
A simpler and better explanation of 33:7 is that the term there does not refer to the Tabernacle at all. Rather, it refers to a regular tent, which Moses established as a place to convene with God after the sin. If so, the text uses the term אֹהֶל מוֹעֵד about two separate objects—the Tabernacle, and the tent Moses set up. I think this reflects two different traditions about the nature of God's house.
This debate is still raging today. Does God live in a fancy synagogue, like the Great Synagogue in Jerusalem? Or does he prefer a more intimate space, like a little worn-out shteibel? We can't settle on one place of worship, so as a result there's now a synagogue for every type. While it's nice to have options, these places divide us and cost money to build and run. There are now over twenty synagogues in the little neighborhood where I grew up.
It's not just Jews. Mankind practices this idiocy on a grand scale. If we were united as a race, we would only need one great tent, and we could sing in a chorus of millions. Can you imagine how wonderful and powerful that could be? But because we can't agree or cooperate on anything theological, each separate religion and sect insists on building its own places of worship. As a race, we end up with millions of expensive buildings across the globe, each catering exclusively to a relatively small local population, with the net result of dividing us up into little groups and costing us trillions each year. Ironically, God has left the premises.
2 comments:
In Brooklyn you can't throw a rock without hitting a shul. I think you're right on this one, but most shteibles aren't about theological differences - it's that every two-bit kollel graduate wants his own little empire.
Here in the Jewish suburbs practically every ten Jews get together and form their own shul. Then come a holiday and they all have to go out and beg a "Kohen" to come from another shul to duchen.
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