The congregation of Israel itself has felt that way!
Our passage opens with a fascinating connection between the verse "They shall take Me a gift" (Exodus 25:2), which refers to the contributions for building the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, and a verse from the Song of Songs: "I am asleep, but my heart is awake" (Song of Songs 5:2). What’s the link?
Shemot Rabbah uses this verse from Song of Songs to explore the relationship between God and the people of Israel, particularly during times of hardship. It paints a picture of the Jewish people in exile, weary and almost losing hope for redemption. They say, "I went to sleep regarding the end of days," meaning the long wait for the messianic era has made them spiritually drowsy. But, praise God, the Holy One, blessed be He, remains awake, as it says, “God is the Rock of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalms 73:26). He is eternally vigilant, always anticipating their return.
It’s a comforting thought, isn't it? Even when we falter, when our faith feels weak, God's commitment to us remains steadfast. As the Matnot Kehuna commentary highlights, even though the congregation of Israel may have diverted its attention from hoping for redemption due to the length and difficulty of the exile, God is still awaiting their redemption.
The Midrash goes on: "I am asleep' from the mitzvot (commandments), but the merit of my patriarchs stands for me, and 'my heart is awake.'" It suggests that even when we fail to fully observe the commandments, the legacy of our ancestors, their devotion and righteousness, continues to advocate for us. "I am asleep' due to the act of the Golden Calf," the Midrash continues, referring to the grave sin committed shortly after the revelation at Sinai, "but my heart is awake,' and the Holy One blessed be He cleaves to me." Despite our mistakes, our betrayals even, God still desires connection.
So, what does this have to do with building the Mishkan? The people cry out, echoing the Song of Songs: "'Open for me, my sister, my love' – until when will I be proceeding without a house, for my head is filled with dew?" God's response is, in essence: "Craft a sanctuary for Me, so I will not be outside." The building of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, becomes an act of profound intimacy. It's an invitation for God to dwell among the people, to end His "homelessness," so to speak. It bridges the distance created by the people's spiritual slumber.
The Mishkan wasn't just about constructing a physical space; it was about creating a space for reconnection, a space where God's presence could be felt, even when faith felt distant. It was about waking up the heart.
Isn't it powerful to think that even in our moments of spiritual sleep, God is waiting for us to build that sanctuary, to rebuild our connection? Maybe that sanctuary is a physical space. Maybe it’s an act of kindness, a renewed commitment to prayer, or simply a moment of quiet reflection. Whatever form it takes, it’s an invitation for God to come in from the cold.