In the shtetl of yesteryear (and possibly, in some Synagogues today, too) there used to be an expression about those who sit by the “Mizrach Vant”. The phrase "Mizarach Vant" is Yiddish for the East wall, and as a colloquialism it refers to the “Machers” -- high and mighty of society, who, due to their material wealth were honored with a seat close to the holy ark -- generally located at the east wall, as a reflection of their self-styled importance.
(If this sounds familiar, it's probably more of a reflection of the current state of our politics, with super PACS who get to wine and dine with whichever politician is running for a particular office, then anything else...)
So it should come as no surprise the 11th commandment is “And the Lord said; let only the rich, famous and holy, donate their resources, time and energy toward my newest building project”..
If you’re looking for the source of this quote - don’t bother. It doesn’t quite say this. What it does say is: “They shall make for Me a Sanctuary that I may dwell among them”. Every man and woman, from all walks of life and of every social standing; rich, poor, famous, wise or wicked, was required to be part of this monumental undertaking.
But, wait a minute! Why on earth would an omnipotent, omniscient G-d want a sanctuary to dwell “among them”? Here, take a look at what the prophet Isaiah asks in the name of G-d, “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. Where is the house you will build for me? Where will my resting place be?”
The answer to this lies in the very detailed instruction manual that accompanied this command. There are ninety six verses in this week’s Parsha that deal exclusively with the weights, measurements, sizes and materials to be used in the construction of the tabernacle.
From the gold and silver used in such implements such as the menorah, altar and vessels used in the day-to-day service of the soon-to-be-completed temple, to the copper pegs in order to keep the courtyard curtains from flapping in the wind, each and every one of these materials represented the combined effort, treasure and wealth of all of the people.
So what difference could it make whether there were copper pegs to secure the curtains or not? The purpose of these pegs, was to keep holy sanctuary tethered to the physical ground it occupied. This represented a fusion of sorts of the physical with the spiritual. And it is the Torah's way of informing us that, as the common expression goes, "Not all that glitters is gold". It's not all about the material glamour and glitz that will make the difference. It is the shine and glow of the “commoner” (represented by the simple copper peg) who makes the supreme effort to change himself, that will make a world of difference in seeing G-d's dwelling place completed or not.
I spoke with a guy not long ago and, as often happens, the discussion turned to the state of religion and especially for those of the “99 per cent of us” – his words – who are not important “Machers” or power brokers of the community. I tried reasoning with him that there really is no caste system in our religion, and that it is really the case that G-d values the effort of all of us. It was only when I pointed out to him the important role played by the seemingly insignificant copper pegs, that I was able to get across the importance and self-esteem of this individual.
It is left to lowly copper -- a less refined material, relative to the glitz and glamour of gold and silver -- to teach us this lesson: It's up to us to elevate the mundane (think: "coarse") by fusing it to the holy (think: "glamorous").
