A mundane matter about the purity of the sacred.

In the SD

At the beginning of Parashat Vayakhel, a small parasha appears that commands the observance of Shabbat. The Sages learned from the closeness between Shabbat and the Mishkan that the crafts prohibited on Shabbat are the same crafts that were used in the construction of the Mishkan. The Torah repeatedly reiterates that the construction of the Mishkan is based on wisdom and creativity, and uses various expressions such as 'work of thought,' 'a thoughtful deed,' 'every wise heart,' and the like. As a result, Shabbat crafts themselves are defined as 'work of thought,' and this has various halachic implications.

This raises the question of what the relationship is between the sacred and the profane. Is the profane merely to serve the sacred? Is our sole concern to repair and elevate the profane? Are art and science merely instruments of holiness? In the Mishkan parshas we see that it is possible to take the wisdom and creativity of the profane and harness them to the sacred, to establish the Mishkan. Chassidim see this as a building block for our action in the world, the concern of which is to clarify and elevate the sparks of holiness that lie within the profane, thereby making it worthy and legitimate.

But the relationship between the profane and the sacred can be viewed in a completely different way. The fact that these skills and crafts are used to build the Mishkan can also mean that they have value in themselves. If the sacred is founded on them, then this is probably a worthy foundation for it. In this view, the sacred is intended to reveal that the profane itself has value. The profane was not created only to be repaired and elevated ("Take care that it does not spoil").

In the Hasidic view, all of creation is sacred. The profane is wrapped in a veil that hides it from us, and our task is to blur and erase this veil. The divine reduction that the Ari speaks of is perceived there as a mere metaphor and illusion. God has not truly diminished, for "the whole earth is full of His glory" and "there is none other besides Him." This is a strange perception. If we ourselves do not truly exist (since "there is none other besides Him"), then whose illusion are we? Descartes' cogito, "I think therefore I am" (Cogiti Ergo Sum), shows that this claim is unfounded. If I think something (or even think) then this thinker must necessarily exist. The same is true for Landon Didan: if the profane posits the sacred, it means that it has an independent existence and importance.

Later in the parsha, all kinds of veils and screens appear that separate the different parts of the holy. These separations are not an illusion, nor are they something we are supposed to erase and blur. They teach us that it is important to separate the holy from the profane, also because the profane has an independent status that is important to preserve. The world was created for profane life. Wisdom and creativity are not intended only for the tabernacle but for all aspects of our lives. Science, wisdom, art have value, and they are not only sacred utensils. The veils protect not only the sacred but also the profane from the imperialism of the sacred that threatens to annihilate it.

Beyond the two paths that appear in a simple way before our eyes, that of the world and that of the sacred, there is also a third path of mundaneness in the purity of the sacred. This path sees mundane life as a value and not just a means. To begin with and not just to be served. The world was created so that we could live in it and enjoy it to the fullest. Not so that we could separate ourselves from it (as the 'opponents' believed) nor so that we could need the holiness hidden in it (as the Hasidim believed). With the exception of certain sacred vessels, it is the prosaic life that should be the focus of our lives and missions.

Originally published in the "Shabton" newsletter.