Finally,
we thought it would never happen. We waited and waited. Even suffering through
a snow day and the interminable shoveling of the driveway, the melting and the
eventual re-freezing of the snow, we have muddled our way through winter. Now
finally, the first vestiges of spring are here. My children have been listening
to me for weeks, literally counting down the days. And this week it happened.
No, it is not quite spring in Toronto or anywhere in the Northeast. But the
other day, I forced my children to watch the sports highlights. There they
were, stretching, joking, jogging and tossing the ball. Pitchers and catchers
have reported to spring training and position players will be down in Florida
and Arizona in a few more days. Spring Training is here, and my children think
I am nuts. However, as I grow older, this ritual, this symbol of hope springing
eternal, this childlike enthusiasm for being outside in the sun, and returning
to the simplest aspects of childhood, reminds me of the simplicity and innocence
of childhood. As a child I used to listen to the baseball games on the radio.
The greatest thing was to be able to listen to spring training games on the
radio. In the middle of February, I could imagine the simplicity of spring
training stadium. I could imagine the colors, the breeze blowing, people
casually dressed in their Florida spring clothing. I could close my eyes and picture players
laughing, casually signing autographs, relaxed and chatting with the crowd.
More so than going to a major league ball park, attending spring training games
was incredibly fun. Going to a spring training game is like going back in time
to ones old childhood, playing with your friends on the local high school
baseball field. It is approachable, it is pure. This is where the Baseball Gods
dwell, in the simplicity of the spring training facility, in the spring air,
and the eternal hope and optimism of a new season..
This week’s Parshah is Terumah. Terumah means “a
portion”. In the context of this week’s Parshah, the portion in question is the
portion of wealth that B’nai Yisroel would dedicate to the construction of
the Aron, the ark that would hold the
Luchot Habrit (the stone tablets upon which the Ten Commandments were written),
the lamp, the table, and the material for the Ohel Moed (the tent of the
meeting). All of which comprised the Mishkan or the Tabernacle. If you are in
construction, interior design, or architecture, the details in Parshah Terumah
are fascinating. If your not in any of those occupations then all the details
might seem, shall we say, a bit dry. Whether a fan or not, whether an architect
or not, there are certain things that we can all appreciate, and there are
certain concepts that increase our appreciation and perspective for the Mishkan
as well as the ball park. Moshe was told: V’Asu
Li Mikdash v’Shachanti B’tocham-
“They shall make a sanctuary for Me so that I may dwell among them”
(Ex.25:8) What follows are all the details and decor of a place where the
people were able to approach God. If they build according to plan, then God
will reside there. If they behave according to G-d’s Torah then G-d will dwell
among them.
I know what you’re thinking. “Rabbi, isn’t G-d
everywhere?” “If so, how can G-d only reside in the Mishkan?” One way to understand
the verse is in terms of our needs, the community’s needs. If B’nai Yisroel
builds it, he will dwell among them. Certainly G-d resides everywhere. However
the verse is incomplete If they build it, yes, G-d will dwell among them. If
G-d dwells among them, that is the entire community, then the entire community
must have a central gathering place, the Ohel Moed (the tent of the meeting).
The difference, of course, is that the Mishkan was built so that G-d could be
among the people in the present. The spring training stadiums are frequently
sold out because baseball fans yearn for a place for people to go that reminds them of
something simpler and more romantic – their childhoods.
As I have grown older and I
watch my children grow, I have started to appreciate that God swells in some
fascinating places. God dwells in the imaginations of small children and the
wonder with which they see the world. God dwells in the questions that our
children ask, or the concern they express when they see suffering or injustice
in the world. God dwells with the family that has been struck by the loss of a
loved one but has rallied together to offer support and sustenance to each
other. No wonder my kids think I am crazy. They want to grow up already, speed
up the process. I want to return to the carefree days of my childhood, playing
catch with my friends without a care in the world because God dwells in our
ability to return to the more innocent and pure days of springtime.
Peace,
Rav Yitz
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