 | As we round the corner toward Passover, in Torah the Mishkan is finished and activated as Western life's first holy place crafted with human hands. What first made the Mishkan holy wasn't God. What first made the Mishkan holy was a human act. Which begs the question about what "holy" is, and how we humans can make anything holy. Turns out, in very real ways, there's no other way. |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Pekudei 5785 (2025)
For me it's the first smell of matzah balls simmering in soup, then the taste of parsley dipped in salt water. Other Passover preparations aside, those sensory experiences are my entrance gates into spring (even more than the baseball season starting – which says a lot).
These sensory experiences also help sanctify the Passover setting and meal as "holy" – in the words of the Passover Haggadah, "different from all other nights."
Jewish life uses the word "holy" a lot; our Bible uses the word 830 times. But rarely do we ask what "holy" means, or how we humans can make something holy – or whether we truly can.
These questions aren't idle or academic: at stake is the nature of Jewish spirituality itself.
This week's Torah portion recounts the completion of the Mishkan, Western life's first "holy" place crafted with human hands that traveled with our spiritual ancestors in the desert. Once built, but before it could be used, God instructed Moses on how to sanctify it.
Yes, you read that right: not God but Moses sanctified the Mishkan. God told Moses (Ex. 40:9):
Pekudei 5785 (2025)
For me it's the first smell of matzah balls simmering in soup, then the taste of parsley dipped in salt water. Other Passover preparations aside, those sensory experiences are my entrance gates into spring (even more than the baseball season starting – which says a lot).
These sensory experiences also help sanctify the Passover setting and meal as "holy" – in the words of the Passover Haggadah, "different from all other nights."
Jewish life uses the word "holy" a lot; our Bible uses the word 830 times. But rarely do we ask what "holy" means, or how we humans can make something holy – or whether we truly can.
These questions aren't idle or academic: at stake is the nature of Jewish spirituality itself.
This week's Torah portion recounts the completion of the Mishkan, Western life's first "holy" place crafted with human hands that traveled with our spiritual ancestors in the desert. Once built, but before it could be used, God instructed Moses on how to sanctify it.
Yes, you read that right: not God but Moses sanctified the Mishkan. God told Moses (Ex. 40:9):
| וְלָקַחְתָּ֙ אֶת־שֶׁ֣מֶן הַמִּשְׁחָ֔ה וּמָשַׁחְתָּ֥ אֶת־הַמִּשְׁכָּ֖ן וְאֶת־כָּל־אֲשֶׁר־בּ֑וֹ וְקִדַּשְׁתָּ֥ אֹת֛וֹ וְאֶת־כָּל־כֵּלָ֖יו וְהָ֥יָה קֹֽדֶשׁ׃ | "Take the anointing oil and anoint the Mishkan and all that is in it to sanctify it and all its vessels, so that it will be holy." |
Only later would a cloud by day and fire by night appear atop the Mishkan as the Presence of God filled it (Exodus 40:34). By then, however, Moses already sanctified it: Moses made it holy.
What is "holy"? Jewishly, "holy" is the opposite of ordinary. Something "holy" is set apart as uniquely special. It's why the Hebrew word "holy" (kodesh) shapes the Hebrew word for a couple's betrothal (kiddushin): they are set apart as "holy" for each other and none other.
We make "holy" with love and care, intention and behavior, associations and senses. A house is just a structure until we make it a home: we sanctify doorways with mezuzot. A room is just a room, until we treat it as a Sanctuary. Shabbat is inherently holy, yet in the Ten Commandments it is our commemoration of Shabbat that makes it holy (Ex. 20:8, Deut. 5:12).
None of this is fully "rational." It can't be: by definition, the sacred can't be reduced to an equation, checklist or how-to manual. Even so, we know in our bones the difference between the ordinary and the extraordinary. We know when something is real and impactful.
Torah's use of anointing oil to make the Mishkan "holy" was sound spirituality partly because it was good neurobiology. Anointing oil was a precise blend of olive oil, myrrh, cinnamon, balsam and laurel (Ex. 30:23-25). Torah banned it from use for any other purpose (Ex. 30:30-32), so its scent would be linked exclusively with holiness. Apparently Torah knew what it would take thousands of years for neurobiologists to discover: scent bypasses the rational mind to evoke powerful experiences. (Want to sell a house? Bake bread or something with cinnamon, to bypass the buyer's rational mind to evoke "home.")
Yes, we – and that includes you – all have a hand in making things "holy." It's important that we do. In practical terms, otherwise we might not be fully invested: without our own acts, the "holy" might be less impactful on us. It's one reason that Jewish tradition treasures doing. In spiritual terms, human acts are necessary to make "holy" on this plane, in partnership with the God of holiness. On this plane, the "holy" emphatically needs us.
So put up that mezuzah, light the candles, sing the songs, and break out the old recipes – and let the holy flow among us.
What is "holy"? Jewishly, "holy" is the opposite of ordinary. Something "holy" is set apart as uniquely special. It's why the Hebrew word "holy" (kodesh) shapes the Hebrew word for a couple's betrothal (kiddushin): they are set apart as "holy" for each other and none other.
We make "holy" with love and care, intention and behavior, associations and senses. A house is just a structure until we make it a home: we sanctify doorways with mezuzot. A room is just a room, until we treat it as a Sanctuary. Shabbat is inherently holy, yet in the Ten Commandments it is our commemoration of Shabbat that makes it holy (Ex. 20:8, Deut. 5:12).
None of this is fully "rational." It can't be: by definition, the sacred can't be reduced to an equation, checklist or how-to manual. Even so, we know in our bones the difference between the ordinary and the extraordinary. We know when something is real and impactful.
Torah's use of anointing oil to make the Mishkan "holy" was sound spirituality partly because it was good neurobiology. Anointing oil was a precise blend of olive oil, myrrh, cinnamon, balsam and laurel (Ex. 30:23-25). Torah banned it from use for any other purpose (Ex. 30:30-32), so its scent would be linked exclusively with holiness. Apparently Torah knew what it would take thousands of years for neurobiologists to discover: scent bypasses the rational mind to evoke powerful experiences. (Want to sell a house? Bake bread or something with cinnamon, to bypass the buyer's rational mind to evoke "home.")
Yes, we – and that includes you – all have a hand in making things "holy." It's important that we do. In practical terms, otherwise we might not be fully invested: without our own acts, the "holy" might be less impactful on us. It's one reason that Jewish tradition treasures doing. In spiritual terms, human acts are necessary to make "holy" on this plane, in partnership with the God of holiness. On this plane, the "holy" emphatically needs us.
So put up that mezuzah, light the candles, sing the songs, and break out the old recipes – and let the holy flow among us.
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