The Weight of Sacred Work (Pekudei)
A confession. Over the years, I’ve been asked a question more times than I can count: How do you come up with something to say, week after week? And the truth is, sometimes I don’t know. Sometimes, like this morning, I wake up, I sit in front of the screen, and I wonder: What is there to say?
Especially when the parashah is like this one — Parshat Pekudei. For five weeks now, we’ve been immersed in the intricate details of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle. And if you’re like me, you love the drama of Torah, the grand stories of our ancestors, the moments of revelation and struggle. But what do we do when there is no story? When all we have is sockets and hooks, measurements and materials?
We look deeper. We turn to our teachers. We search for meaning in the details. And sometimes, meaning finds us.
This morning, before I began, I saw a recent video of Rachel Goldberg-Polin. It’s been a while since I mentioned her, but she appeared on my screen today, as she has appeared before the world so many times since October 7th. You remember that she began the practice of wearing a strip of masking tape with the number of days since her beloved son, Hersh z”l, was taken captive. She has not stopped counting. She has not stopped speaking. She has not stopped reminding us that there is work to be done to free the 59 remaining hostages.
And I thought: What do I have to say when there are voices like Rachel’s in the world? What can I possibly add when she, standing in relentless grief and unwavering hope, calls upon us to be audacious, to defy the rational, to keep believing, to keep fighting?
And then it hit me — this is exactly what Pekudei teaches us. The Mishkan, the Tabernacle, is not just a structure. It is testimony. The Torah calls it that: Edut. Testimony. A physical manifestation of commitment, of presence, of sacred service. The Mishkan was built not by a single hand but by the collective offering of the people. The sockets and hooks, the beams and fabrics — they were fashioned from the half-shekel that each person gave. Every person, equally, contributed to the framework that held the presence of the Divine.
And today, as we seek to build a world worthy of the Divine, we are called to do the same. To give of ourselves. To take our place in the story. To surround ourselves with the testimony of our ancestors and to become testimony ourselves.
Rachel Goldberg Polin stands in the Holy of Holies every time she stands to bear witness. And if she can stand, so must we. If she can speak, so must we. If she can fight for the return of the hostages, we must, too. Because this is what it means to be a Jew. To live with fire, with purpose, with relentless love. To know that our work is not done.
The Mishkan held the Ark, and within the Ark, the tablets. Not just laws — but a covenant, a promise, a story. Edut. Testimony. And we are its inheritors. We are not at the end of the story; we are in its unfolding chapters. And that means we have a choice.
As we close the book of Shemot, as we prepare for Shabbat, as we look toward what comes next, let us take inspiration from Rachel, from our ancestors, from the Mishkan itself. Let us set our hearts to the work before us. Let us pour ourselves into this holy task, this holy people, this holy world.
And may our prayers, our actions, and our love move the story forward.
