A Blueprint for Tomorrow: Building the Mishkan

by Fen Argoff

Words give us instructions
as to what may be endured.
-Szilárd Borbély, “To Patience”

It’s often difficult to feel like the actions we take each day have a purpose. For those of us who live with disability, this rift all too often compounds when every action comes with a cost. Those of you reading may be intimately familiar with the widely proliferated Spoon Theory, written by Christine Miserandino more than a decade ago. It describes the way in which a disabled (in her case, chronically ill) individual has a limited capacity for action each day. As she wrote in her essay, “the difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to.” Intentionality is at the core of this theory, moreover, the ability to recognize a life lived intentionally.

It is through recognizing the way we must act carefully in order to survive, that we’re able to get through each day. It’s a concept as integral to the lives of disabled people as it is to Jewish tradition. Through Torah, we can find the guidance that we may need to recognize this sort of intentional living. “On six days work may be done, but on the seventh day you shall have a sabbath of complete rest, holy to יהוה; whoever does any work on it shall be put to death.” (Exodus, 35:2) Well, it’s a rather severe commandment indeed – but one that impresses upon the receiver how important it is. For work of great importance, precision is required, and how could someone uphold the Covenant if rest is not allowed?

Surely after creating so much Himself, and with Adam made in His own image, Hashem commanded this out of the deepest wisdom. So it follows that the commandment to rest is imbued with the wisdom to recognize one’s bounds as a human being, and thus the wisdom to moderate the joy that comes with creation. “Thus the Israelites, all the men and women whose hearts moved them to bring anything for the work that יהוה, through Moses, had commanded to be done, brought it as a freewill offering to יהוה.” (Exodus, 35:29)

To build the Mishkan required the commitment of both the hearts and the bodies of the Israelites. Even Moshe could see the perils of excess, upon being informed that, ‘“The people are bringing more than is needed for the tasks entailed in the work that יהוה has commanded to be done.” Moses thereupon had this proclamation made throughout the camp: “Let no man or woman make further effort toward gifts for the sanctuary!”’ (Exodus, 36:5-36:6)

If these offerings were brought of their own free will in service of Hashem, why were they ordered to stop, if the only reason was that there were too many?

Consider this in terms of your own ability – think about a project for a truly good cause, one that truly helps the world that you are personally passionate about. How much do you give to it before you are giving away what is at the core of yourself? How much of yourself do you give before you cannot possibly give any more? Is it ethical to protect yourself when you can still provide?

Torah provides an answer: we must pause and reflect, as we must provide what is needed for the task at hand and no more. Further, the Torah shows how this is viable – because we are not alone in providing for others. None of us are alone here in our struggle to make the world just a bit brighter for ourselves, for our friends, loved ones, families, and communities. It was the combined efforts of the Israelites that led to an excess of offerings during the construction of the Mishkan, and we know from the Talmud (Sanhedrin 37a) that the wellbeing of the community and the wellbeing of the individual are not easily separated. Neither, then, are people’s hearts. It was because of the sheer might of the love people showed for Hashem, for the World, for the Universe that there were so many gifts with which to build. It was this love that imbued their hands with the whole-hearted devotion to build Him a home.

There are those of us whose bodies and hearts might not align, who cannot do the work we need or want to. The metaphor at hand, labor done traveling through the wilderness guided by divine purpose, works only so far as our legs can take us. Personally, there are days I can’t get farther than my bed.

Is that a holy rest? A commandment from within the body? A physical body, created by the Universe and built by hand, as intricately as the Mishkan with all its ram and dolphin skin, its myriad silver, copper joints and acacia skeleton? “..let all among you who are skilled come and make all that יהוה has commanded” (Exodus 35:10), Moshe said. And all of the Israelites did as they were able – like those given divine gifts of craftsmanship like Bezalel, who was inspired to design the Mishkan, and those like the women skilled of their own ability, who spun yarn to adorn the priests and the Mishkan with color.

You can sit and still fill the world with color.

Just as it is holy to rest on Shabbat, it is holy to recognize the bounds of what is required of us - and for our energy, for our ability to provide again tomorrow, it is holy to act with as much intention as the work requires. Meaningful work comes when it is in service of something tangible, and Torah shows us that under this divine commandment of intentionality, with the love of our community, family, and dear ones, we are able to build something physical from something ineffable. Both in our health and our labor, we can bridge the gap between our actions and their impacts. Crucially, we must remember that there are countless others who have love in their hearts, and it’s all our efforts combined that will bring about a brighter, more whole world.

Fen Argoff is a queer, disabled, interdisciplinary artist working in the realms of digital illustration and interactive media. Fen began studying Torah and Jewish history as a means of connecting their Jewish life with an artistic practice focused on the environment, morality and the role of myth in an industrial landscape. Fen lives with their cat in Upstate New York, working as a freelance artist and as a proud member of the Freelancer’s Union.