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Sanctuary
- Rabbi Sarah Weissman
- Feb 20
- 4 min read
February 20, 2026
וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם׃
“Make for me a sanctuary, and I shall dwell among them.”
The verse is almost hidden in our Torah portion, tucked in between a list of materials – precious metals and fabrics, dolphin skins and acacia wood – and instructions for building – how many cubits for this and how many sockets for that. A short verse that contains not only the reason for the whole project, but the key to understanding some of the fundamental principles of Jewish theology.
“Make for me a sanctuary.” The word in Hebrew is mikdash, from the root kuf-dalet-shin, referring to holiness. Like the English word “sanctuary,” mikdash refers to a holy space, designated and set apart for religious purposes. In later Jewish texts, the Temple in Jerusalem will be called Beit haMikdash, the House of the Sanctuary, the permanent abode for God. But what is being described in our portion is actually the mishkan, a temporary dwelling place for God. The mishkan, often translated into English as “tabernacle” (even though no one knows what a tabernacle is), is the portable, tentlike structure that the Israelites will build and then use throughout their journey through the wilderness. It’s the holy place where Moses will go to talk to God, and the holy place where the Levites will offer the people’s sacrifices to God. The instructions for the building of the mishkan take up a good portion of the remainder of the Book of Exodus, suggesting that not only the final product, but the process of constructing the mishkan, is of vital importance.
Building a dwelling-place for God might seem strange, even theologically problematic. Does God have a body, or a need for a physical home? Can God be contained in a tent that measures only 30 cubits by 10 cubits, or around 675 square feet? What’s God going to do in there anyway?
Our verse tells us that something else is going on here: the people are commanded to build this holy place so that “shachanti b’tocham,” God will dwell among them. Commentators have long observed that grammatically speaking, it should say, “shachanti b’tocho” I will dwell in it, meaning the mishkan. Instead it says, “b’tocham,” in or among them, that is, the people. The act of the people building a sanctuary for God is what causes God to be present among the people.
We can draw a few important conclusions from this fact. First, the connection between God and people requires the action of both parties. The people are meant to be God’s partners, not just passive recipients of God’s laws and God’s blessings. The building of the mishkan marks a new, more active, stage in the Israelites’ relationship with God.
Second, sacred places aren’t permanent. The mishkan is a portable tent, created in order to be assembled and disassembled as the Israelites move from camp to camp in the wilderness. The Beit haMikdash, the Temple in Jerusalem, may have been intended to stand forever, but it has been destroyed not once but twice, and yet the Jewish people have survived without it for nearly 2000 years. The reason is, as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel argues, “Judaism teaches us to be attached to holiness in time, to be attached to sacred events, to learn how to consecrate sanctuaries that emerge from the magnificent stream of a year. The Sabbaths are our great cathedrals; and our Holy of Holies is a shrine that neither the Romans nor the Germans were able to burn… the Day of Atonement.” The mishkan is a sacred place only because of the sacred moments that are marked within it.
And third, holiness is found in creating something together. As Jonathan Sacks puts it, “God does not live in buildings. He lives in builders.” Many of us have visited other sanctuaries, houses of worship of all kinds. The grandeur of the building does not always correspond with the quality of the experience. A beautiful cathedral might feel devoid of God’s spirit, and a tiny chapel might feel full of it. A place becomes a mikdash, a sanctuary, because it is where people work together, each giving the offerings of their hearts and hands. That is where God’s presence can be felt.
When we hear the word “sanctuary” today, it’s likely that the speaker isn’t referring to a synagogue or church or other specifically religious place, but rather to a place of refuge. Animal sanctuaries protect species that are in danger, and sanctuary cities and states attempt to provide safety to all of their residents regardless of immigration status. The reason this second meaning of sanctuary developed is because for centuries, houses of worship were places where fugitives could find temporary protection from the law. There was a sense, beginning in Greek and Roman times, that houses of worship were inviolable spaces where secular law was superseded by divine authority.
Today, there is no legal right to claim sanctuary, not even in a church or synagogue. But I think we can still reclaim both meanings of the word. A mikdash ought to be a sanctuary, a holy place and one that offers safety and protection to everyone who enters, especially to the most vulnerable. A mikdash doesn’t have to be made of gold and silver or dolphin skins and acacia wood. It just has to be a place where people gather in fellowship and devotion, committed to caring for one another and helping one another reach for holiness. If we build it right, we’ll feel God reaching right back.
Resources:
The Sabbath pg. 8.
