This Shabbat we study Parshah Terumah, meaning “Offering” (Exodus 25:2). The people of Israel are called upon to contribute many materials, out of which G-d says to Moses “They shall make for Me a Sanctuary, and I shall dwell amidst them.” On the summit of Mount Sinai, Moses is given detailed instructions on how to construct this dwelling for G-d so that it could be readily dismantled,  transported and reassembled as the people journeyed in the desert.

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Chabad.org

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Why is the Sanctuary described in this week’s reading so small? One would imagine that the very first House of G-d would have been spectacular. Yes, it was a portable temple which needed to be erected and dismantled regularly over 40 years in the wilderness, but still. It was smaller than a starter home! A roof of animal skins, held together with bolts and nuts, hooks, pegs and sockets. And while it was, admittedly, covered in gold, it was a far cry from the magnificent palaces and citadels of others. The moral of the story? G-d does not require spectacular spires or museums to house His holy presence. Where is He found? In the nitty-gritty nuts and bolts of a simple synagogue.

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Back in 1983, Rabbi Betzalel Zolty, a respected halachic authority and former Chief Rabbi of Jerusalem was visiting our community, so I put the question to him. “Do we need to do anything special to convert the chapel into a shul?” His sharp and simple reply? “Make a minyan!” A minyan, a quorum of Jews praying together, is all that was needed to inaugurate and consecrate our synagogue.

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You don’t have to solve the Middle-East crisis, but you can say a prayer for Israel. You don’t need to become a rabbi, but you could attend a weekly Torah class. You needn’t give away billions but you can give a little more tzedakah than feels comfortable. And you’re not expected to settle every family feud, but you could smile at your difficult brother-in-law once in a while.

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It is precisely the small things that build the Sanctuary of G-d and bring heaven down to earth. G-d is not looking for grandeur or opulence, but the ordinary acts of sanctity and spirituality, goodness and kindness that make our world a better, more G-dly place—a holy house where He feels most comfortable. Let us make Him our own little sanctuaries and He will dwell among us.

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From an article by Rabbi Yossy Goldman

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We can improve our feelings through our actions. Actions create internal change. Act the part, and you become it. So go ahead and smile, and watch yourself become happier. Give those coins to charity, and witness your mood become more giving and forgiving. Act calmly, and your anger will begin to dissipate. Because in truth, you aren’t really acting.

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From an article by Chana Weisberg

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Like a matching game, each act of beauty uncovers another face of the infinite. Each generation completes its part of the puzzle. Until the table is set and prepared. Until all that remains is for the curtains to be raised, the clouds to dissipate, the sun to shine down on all our bruised and bloodied hands have planted, and let it blossom and bear fruit.That is where we are now. We know a world in the process of becoming. Soon will be a world where each thing has arrived.

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Rabbi Tzvi Freeman

The red flowers outside my window are more than just a scene; they are my dream. Ask my sisters, and they will tell you that all I want is my physical space filled with natural light in a beautiful organic setting. I noticed them first on Shabbat, even though they are to my right and left each time I enter and exit my house all week long. It took Shabbat to get me to notice them.

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Shabbat is the day when we disconnect from the bigger world to reconnect with our inner world. With family. With community. With G-d and the Torah. On Shabbat, I am aware of what is going on around me more internally. I feel the vibrations of each family member packed into the kitchen, lounging in the living room and gathered in the dining room. I see the flowers. The window frames’ red Camellias. They are directly in my vision across from my favorite position on the couch. I never quite noticed them this way. I sit with their beauty. I let everyone around me know I am bathing in their crimson glow. But once Shabbat leaves, everything captured and processed leaves me in seconds, like a vacuum, as I am sucked back into the weekday chaos.

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It’s not just on Shabbat; G-d wants to be present in our surroundings at all times. At the beginning of the Torah portion of Terumah, G-d says: “Make for Me a mikdash, a holy space, and I will dwell within you.” Within me? Isn’t the Tabernacle a physical space we build? Should G-d not dwell within it? It is both. When we build a tabernacle or holy space for G-d, He dwells there but at the same time, I am asked to invite G-d to live inside of me.

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I start by noticing the beauty He provides. Once a week is not enough, though. It must happen on a daily basis. And so, I slow down. I take in the scenes of my life and don’t take any of them for granted. I recognize that everything that happens to me is by Divine design. I integrate my feelings of accomplishment with knowing He is guiding my steps. I merge my anxieties with awe of G-d’s meticulous watching over me. I elevate the mundane parts of my life in service of the Torah and mitzvot.

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G-d dwells within me. I want flowers. He wants a spiritual garden. I am placated. My dwelling is serene.  He deserves no less.

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From an article by Dena Schusterman

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