Our ancestors did. Even Moses, the great lawgiver himself, felt it. In fact, according to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Moses experienced such fear not just once, but three times in his interactions with God!
The first instance arose when God decreed, "Let each give a ransom for his soul" (Exodus 30:12). Moses, seized by alarm, wondered, "If a man were to give all that he hath for his soul, it would not suffice!" But God, in His infinite wisdom, reassured him, saying, "I do not ask what is due Me, but only what they can fulfil; half a shekel will suffice." It’s a powerful reminder that God doesn't demand the impossible.
Then, a similar fear gripped Moses when God commanded, "Speak to Israel concerning My offering, and My bread for My sacrifices made by fire" (Leviticus 21:21). Trembling, Moses exclaimed, "Who can bring sufficient offerings to Thee? 'Lebanon is not sufficient to burn, nor the beast thereof sufficient for a burnt offering!'" Again, God responded with grace, "I demand not according to what is due Me, but only that which they can fulfil, one sheep as a morning sacrifice, and one sheep as an evening sacrifice."
But the third time? The third time really hits home.
The third instance occurred during the instructions for building the Mishkan (מִשְׁכָּן), the sanctuary. Picture it: God is laying out the plans for this sacred space, and Moses cries out in fear, "Behold, the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain Thee, how much less this sanctuary that we are to build Thee?" (1 Kings 8:27). Can you feel the weight of that statement? Even the vastness of the cosmos can't contain God, so how could this little tent?
And, just as before, God reassured him, "I do not ask what is due Me, but only that which they can fulfil; twenty boards to the north, as many to the south, eight in the west, and I shall then so draw My Shekhinah (שְׁכִינָה) together that it may find room under them." The Shekhinah, often translated as divine presence, would dwell within the Tabernacle despite its physical limitations. It’s a beautiful image of God's willingness to meet us where we are, in the spaces we create.
Why was God so insistent on having a sanctuary? According to the tradition, it was the very condition upon which He led the Israelites out of Egypt. In fact, in a certain sense, the existence of the entire world depended on it! The construction of the sanctuary, as the rabbis teach, anchored the world, which had been swaying precariously until then.
The Midrash even draws parallels between the Tabernacle and the creation story itself. The Tabernacle, in its separate parts, corresponded to the heaven and earth created on the first day. As the firmament was created on the second day to divide the waters, so a curtain in the Tabernacle divided the holy from the most holy. As God created the great sea on the third day, so the laver in the sanctuary symbolized it. And as He designated plants for nourishment, so the Tabernacle held a table with bread.
The candlestick in the Tabernacle mirrored the sun and moon created on the fourth day, its seven branches representing the seven planets. The Cherubim (כְּרוּבִים), angelic beings, with their bird-like wings, corresponded to the birds created on the fifth day. And finally, as man was created on the sixth day in God's image, so was the High Priest anointed to minister in the Tabernacle before the Lord.
What does all of this mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming tasks, God asks not for perfection, but for our sincere effort. And that the spaces we create, even the imperfect ones, can become vessels for the divine presence. The Mishkan wasn’t just a building, it was a microcosm of creation, a testament to the enduring relationship between God and humanity, a relationship built not on perfect offerings, but on heartfelt intention.