It’s a story rich with symbolism, divine presence, and, believe it or not, even a little tension about who gets to offer what. Let's dive in, shall we?
According to Bamidbar Rabbah 13, it all began on the 23rd of Adar, and culminated on the first of Nisan. Rabbi Yosei tells us that for seven days, Moses himself erected and dismantled the Tabernacle each morning, making sacrifices. Talk about dedication! Finally, on the eighth day, the first of Nisan, the Tabernacle was permanently erected. As Exodus 40:17 states plainly: “It was in the first month during the second year, on the first of the month, the Tabernacle was erected.”
That Sunday, Aaron and his sons officially began their priestly service, washing their hands and feet, and performing their duties in the prescribed order. The entire nation of Israel participated, offering daily sacrifices, vow offerings, gift offerings, sin offerings, guilt offerings, firstborn offerings, and tithes. It was a day of immense significance, a true inauguration of the sacred space.
And here's where it gets really interesting: this moment is then connected to the Song of Songs 4:16: "Arise, north, and come, south…"
The Midrash beautifully interprets this verse, seeing the "north" as the burnt offering slaughtered on the north side of the altar, and the "south" as the peace offering slaughtered on the south side. "Blow upon my garden" refers to the Tent of Meeting, and its perfume spreading is the incense of the spices. “Let my beloved come to his garden” – that's the Shekhinah, the Divine Presence itself. And the delicious fruits? The offerings, of course!
It continues, drawing parallels between the verses in Song of Songs and the events surrounding the Tabernacle’s dedication. "I have come to my garden, my sister, my bride" (Song of Songs 5:1) symbolizes the eighth day, the culmination of the dedication. The myrrh and perfume are the frankincense of the incense and meal offering. The honeycomb and honey? Those are the limbs of the burnt offering, consumed on the altar. Wine and milk? The libations and the parts of lesser sanctity.
"Eat, friends," the Midrash says, refers to Moses and Aaron. And "Drink and become intoxicated, beloved ones," that's the congregation of Israel, celebrating this momentous occasion.
But the Midrash doesn't stop there. It then delves into a fascinating debate between Rabbi Elazar and Rabbi Yosei bar Ḥanina about what sacrifices were offered before the giving of the Torah. Did the descendants of Noah offer only burnt offerings, or peace offerings as well?
Rabbi Elazar argues for peace offerings, citing Abel's offering in Genesis 4:4, which he interprets as a peace offering because its fat was offered on the altar. He also points to Exodus 24:5, where the children of Israel offered both burnt offerings and peace offerings before the Torah was given.
Rabbi Yosei ben Rabbi Ḥanina, however, interprets these verses differently. He suggests that Abel's offering was the choicest burnt offering, and that the peace offerings in Exodus were burnt offerings that were complete, without flaying or quartering. He even suggests that Jethro, Moses' father-in-law, offered burnt offerings after the giving of the Torah.
Rav clarifies that the disagreement between Rabbi Elazar and Rabbi Yosei ben Rabbi Ḥanina hinges on whether Jethro came before or after the giving of the Torah.
Ultimately, Rabbi Abba son of Rav Papi and Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, in the name of Rabbi Levi, support Rabbi Yosei ben Rabbi Ḥanina, citing Leviticus 6:2 which states "This is the law of the burnt offering, it is the burnt offering," implying that only burnt offerings were offered by the descendants of Noah.
Interestingly, Rabbi Elazar reinterprets the "Arise, north, and come, south" verse in a completely different light – as a prophecy about the exiles! He sees it as a promise that when the exiles in the north arise, they will return and encamp in the south, and that even Gog, who is located in the north, will ultimately fall in the south. He even connects it to the messianic king who will arise from the north and build the Temple in the south.
The Midrash then explores the idea of the winds bringing jealousy among themselves, with the north wind bringing the exile of the north and the south wind bringing the exile of the south. But ultimately, the Holy One, blessed be He, will institute peace between them, bringing all the exiles together.
Rabbi Ḥoneya, in the name of Rabbi Binyamin ben Levi, even envisions a future where the north and south winds combine to sweep through the Garden of Eden, spreading the fragrance of all its spices.
The Midrash culminates in a beautiful image of the Holy One, blessed be He, joining the righteous in the Garden of Eden, partaking in the feast and delighting in their devotion. It emphasizes that the righteous, even in exile, sanctified the name of Heaven, and that they will be rewarded with wine preserved since creation and bathed in streams of milk.
Rabbi Azarya, in the name of Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Simon, offers another beautiful analogy, comparing the Tabernacle to a palace built for a king. Just as the residents of the province eagerly awaited the king's arrival in the palace, so too did the Israelites long for the Divine Presence to dwell in the Tabernacle.
Rabbi Yishmael ben Rabbi Yosei adds a fascinating detail: the Divine Presence had originally been in the lower worlds, walking in the Garden of Eden. But due to humanity's sins, it ascended higher and higher, only to be brought back down to earth by the righteousness of individuals like Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and ultimately, Moses.
The Midrash concludes by highlighting the special offerings of the princes, even when they deviated from the norm. It points out that they brought incense, a sin offering without knowing of their sin, and offerings that overrode Shabbat – all of which were accepted by the Holy One, blessed be He, demonstrating the immense love and favor He had for them.
So, what do we take away from all this? The dedication of the Tabernacle wasn't just a historical event. It was a profound moment of connection between the Divine and the human, a testament to the power of devotion, and a glimpse into a future where all will be reconciled and the Divine Presence will dwell among us once again. It’s a story that continues to resonate, reminding us of the importance of sacred space, ritual, and our own individual journeys to bring the Divine back down to earth.