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Behind the wall of stained boxes stacked against the electronically controlled metal gates was a heaviness more uncomfortable than anything else in this, the deepest, darkest place in the prison. I hesitated to step forward into a foggy sense that whatever lay behind would affect my life, a sense validated when out peeked the head, not of a midget, as I expected upon seeing the crowded cell, but a physical giant. The inmate was at war with the state correctional authority, and I soon stood at the center of the battle. I was employed as a chaplain by the state, but was expected to care for my "congregant." The chief chaplain who accompanied me on this initial visit to the most dangerous of all my inmates, saw my hesitation and offered to care for the man, but, despite the reverend being the most skilled clergyman I ever met before or since, I wanted the inmate to have a rabbi, not a Black Baptist minister. I'm still haunted by what followed and often wish I had never looked at what lay behind the wall of boxes.
There are similarly stacked walls in the basement of my mother's home; walls of furniture, appliances, linens, kitchen utensils, dishes and more, waiting for newlyweds who need them. There are walls of medical supplies ready to be delivered to homes all over the country. I didn't hesitate to peek behind those walls and learn as much as I could about my mother's projects. The stories continue to flow in, even now, more than a year since her passing, but I've chosen to stop looking. I treasure the sense of standing just outside that wall, knowing that there is so much more than I will ever be able to see. I stand outside the wall, not in hesitation to confront something larger than life, but because that place of just outside the wall is so delicately precious. Standing before this wall extends me further than I would ever reach looking at what lies behind it.
I imagine standing outside the Mishkan, Tabernacle, wondering what is happening under the heavy roof, beyond the walls that block my entrance. A part of me resents not being able to see what lies behind the curtains, but I am also aware that whatever it is, would affect, perhaps even absorb my life, sucking me into an existence far beyond life on this side of the walls. I sigh in relief and turn back from this wall of hesitation to this world in which I can thrive and succeed.
The women who wove the tapestries that became the walls of the Mishkan added a wall to the Tabernacle. God never instructs Moses or the people to make the Parochet, the wall separating the Holy from the Holy of Holies, but includes it as an equally sanctified part of His Home. This added wall has no mystical secrets in its design, yet stands just before the holiest place on the planet. It is the wall that reminds us that there is always more just beyond our vision and grasp. The women call our attention behind the wall of hesitation, that beyond that is larger than life, to a holier wall, that stretches our minds, extends our reach, and expands our souls. How ironic that women, who added the holiest wall to God's Home, can be arrested for praying too close another, far less holy wall!
The Purim Paytan, poet, compares Esther to these women, when she compels the people confused by her party invitations to Haman, to turn their gaze away from the experts who know what's going on behind the palace walls, toward the wall that extends far beyond Esther and Mordechai, to that vision that is Purim, the Festival of Eternity, Netzach, a place in which we confidently rise to all the challenges facing us. Esther demolishes walls of hesitation that stop us from looking at the unhealthy relationships and abuse that hide behind walls, and replaces them with that wall that takes us beyond into a world in which we can figure out ways to nurture healthy relationships. Esther who lived and slept with an evil king, rips apart the walls erected by self-proclaimed "Great Men," who insist that we add more walls of fear to separate us from "others." She weaves walls of "Beyond," walls that represent all that we can achieve if we only reconnect to that belief that we can succeed only when we reach beyond ourselves rather than hide behind walls of fear and hesitation.
Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Simcha L. Weinberg President If you are interested in sponsoring our  winning Newsletter, please email info@thefoundationstone.org Go to our Blog  Follow us on Twitter   Become a Fan  |
