One of the most striking aspects of Parshat Vayakhel is the Israelites’ willingness to give. When Moses calls for materials to build the Mishkan (Tabernacle), the people respond with overwhelming generosity. The Torah tells us that “every person whose heart was uplifted and whose spirit was willing” brought gifts (Exodus 35:21). In fact, they gave so much that Moses had to tell them to stop! This outpouring of generosity was not out of obligation but a deep desire to contribute to something greater than themselves. It is this lev nadiv, this generous heart, that transforms individual offerings into sacred purpose.

But generosity alone is not enough; it must be directed toward meaningful action. Vayakhel teaches that each person had a unique role in building the Mishkan—some spun yarn, others crafted wood, and still others wove intricate designs. The Mishkan was not built by one leader or a small group but by the combined efforts of the entire community. Our own lives reflect this lesson: holiness is not only found in prayer but in the work we do with our hands, in the ways we uplift others, and in our everyday contributions to the world.

The very name of this parsha, Vayakhel, means “he gathered.” Before any work could begin, Moses brought the people together. This reminds us that no holy endeavor is accomplished in isolation. The Israelites, who had once been a nation of enslaved individuals, became a unified people working toward a shared mission. Today, we are reminded that when we come together as a community—with open hearts and willing hands—we can create holiness in our world.

Parshat Vayakhel opens with Moses gathering the entire community of Israel and instructing them about Shabbat and the construction of the Mishkan. The parsha emphasizes the themes of communal unity, generosity, and sacred work—values beautifully captured in the blessing:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁנָּתַן לָנוּ לֵב נָדִיב לַעֲשׂוֹת מְלֶאכֶת הַקֹּדֶשׁ וּלְהִתְקַהֵל בְּאַחְדוּת

“Blessed are you, Adonai, our God, sovereign of the universe, who has given us a generous heart to do holy work and to gather in unity.”

The blessing we recite affirms that God has given us the ability to be generous, engage in sacred work, and unite with others. As we reflect on Vayakhel, may we cultivate a generous heart, use our talents for holy work, and find strength in community. In doing so, we build not just a physical space, but a world infused with holiness and purpose.

If you asked me what I would do if I wasn’t a rabbi, I’d probably say something along the lines of an experience designer or exhibit curator. I love thinking about the user experience of a place, whether that’s a museum, a park, or Costco. A favorite mental exercise of mine is to imagine how I might build something if those decisions were up to me.

There’s a wonderful series of picture books by Chris Van Dusen that imagines what a school, a car, or a house would be like if built by a very creative kid. It’s fun to read these with my children and then ask them, “If you could build a synagogue, what would you make sure to include?” My synagogue would probably include quiet treadmills and bounce pads in the back of the prayer space and multiple types of seating and standing options, as well as multiple rooms for different sensory needs. Of course, their answers are different from mine, and I’m sure all of your answers would be vastly different too. The point is that everyone’s ideal environment is going to be unique, including God’s. 

We read Parshat Vayakhel this week, and we are inundated with facts about the Mishkan. The Torah teaches that we are to collect special gifts to build this sacred space and that these gifts are to be given because the giver wants to give them, not because they are being asked to give them. The text then continues to explain that because of this “giving what your heart tells you” mentality, they end up with an abundance of materials to build this sacred space. The reason the Mishkan is a magnificent construction project is because of the generosity of spirit the Israelites were moved to exhibit.

The entire text is full of directions for building a breathtaking holy space for God in which the community will gather. We’re talking gold, bronze, and silver, along with garments of majestic embroidery and so much glitz and glam. We’re led to believe that God clearly has a taste for the ornate. 

However, this begs the question, is this space for God to feel at home or for the Israelites to feel safe and present? The text doesn’t provide an obvious answer, but in reading the descriptive details, it appears that the grandeur of the Mishkan is partly because God wanted as many people as possible to contribute to its creation. That way they’d feel connected to the space and proud to be there. While our use of holy spaces has changed, the idea of having everyone contribute remains the same. When you volunteer your time and other resources to Neveh Shalom, that’s how you create a space that’s built for you, one you’re proud to be in. And if that happens to include trampolines in the vestry, you know how to contact me.

For better or worse, we’re constantly examining ourselves. Everyone carries around 4K cameras in their pockets, and just about everything we do is documented somewhere on social media or on Zoom. Sometimes I find physical self-reflection useful, other times not so much. A quick check in the mirror to make sure I don’t have makeup or food in my teeth is helpful, but staring at myself on Zoom all day only feeds into body image issues.  

I have a love-hate relationship with seeing myself reflected, especially since taking a look in the mirror can be both helpful and harmful depending on your frame of mind. The 10 Commandments actually begins by telling us not to make engraved images of God, that there is no likeness of God. Perhaps this is a warning to step away from focusing on what we ourselves look like. But as we reach the penultimate parshah of the Book of Exodus, we notice that mirrors actually do play a key role.

We read Parshat Vayakhel this week, where the narrative continues with the requirement to observe Shabbat, and then includes the request to bring gifts to build the Mishkan. After that, Betzalel and Ohilav are appointed as the taskmasters of the construction project, and we hear about the abundance of gifts the Israelites brought to the Tabernacle. But within the construction details are very specific instructions of how everything should fit together.

As the long list of materials is listed, we read that there were mirrors to be placed at the entrance to the Tent of Meeting. Why? If we’re not supposed to have an image of God, why have this reminder in the sacred space of what we ourselves look like while coming and going from where we interact with God?

This could be because mirrors don’t lie. The most honest we can be with ourselves is when we look in the mirror and check the reflection that’s looking back. When you look at it this way, having a mirror isn’t about vanity, it’s about looking ourselves in the eyes and truly discovering who we are and who we want to be.