Between the Books: The Space That Strengthens (Pekudei)

Parshat Pekudei marks the conclusion of the Book of Exodus, the final moments of a journey we’ve traveled together with our ancestors from enslavement to freedom, from Sinai to the creation of the Mishkan, the desert tabernacle. To come to the end of a book of Torah is no small thing. If you’ve ever looked inside a Torah scroll, you’ll notice that between each of the five books, there is a four-line space, a physical break in the text.

And when we reach the end of a book of Torah, the community responds with powerful words: “Chazak/Chizki, chazak/chizki, venit’chazek — Be strong, be strong, and we will strengthen one another.” It is an affirmation, a recognition that the act of reading Torah is not passive. It requires strength to engage, to carry these words, to stand before a community and lead, to wrestle with the text and with its implications for our lives.

My teacher, Rabbi Eliezer Diamond, who recently retired after a lifetime of teaching Torah, reflected on why we say these words in his beautiful essay, “The Give and Take of Strength (JTS, 2025).” He suggested that to be a reader of Torah is to take on a weighty responsibility. We are not merely reciting words; we are lifting them, embodying them, struggling with them. And by the time we reach the end of a book, we need to be reminded: “Be strong.” Because endings are hard. Because moving forward takes courage.

The final verses of Pekudei describe the completion of the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary, and God’s presence filling the space. It is a crescendo, a moment of awe. And yet, we know what comes next. The book of Vayikra will soon remind us of human frailty, of loss, of the tragic death of Aaron’s sons. Rabbi Diamond teaches that we need strength not only to celebrate endings but to withstand the challenges that follow.

This is true not only of Torah but of life. Leadership can be, and often is, exhausting. Standing before a community, leading in any capacity — whether in prayer, in justice work, in moments of crisis — takes a toll. And so, we must pause, offer strength to those who lead, and acknowledge their work. When we say “Chazak/Chizki, chazak/chizki, v’nitchazek,” we are, in essence, saying: “We see you. We honor the weight you carry. Take a breath.”

We are living in a world that has not become simpler. The past 537 days since October 7th, the past 1,269 days since the onset of a global pandemic — these have been days of struggle, of resilience, of endless lifting. We have all been carrying so much.

So let’s take a moment. Think of someone in your life who leads, who carries weight for others. Send them a note. Make a call. Say: “I see you. I appreciate you. Take care of yourself. Be strong.”

Because strength is not an individual pursuit. It is a cycle. When we strengthen our leaders, we strengthen ourselves. And in doing so, we build a world of shared strength, of collective resilience. That is the wisdom of Torah. That is the blessing of community. And that is why, as we close this book and prepare to turn the page, we say together:

Chazak/Chizki, chazak/chazak, v’nitchazek.