The architecture of holiness. From here to the end of the book of Exodus, the Torah describes

in painstaking detail and great length the construction of the Mishkan, the first collective

house of worship of the Jewish people. Precise instructions are given for each item, the tabernacle

itself, the frames and drapes and the various objects

it contained, including their dimensions. So, for example, we read, make the tabernacle with

ten curtains of finely twisted linen and blue, purple and scarlet yarn, with cherubim woven

into them by a skilled worker. All the curtains are to be the same size, 28 cubits long and four cubits wide.

Make curtains of goat hair for the tent over the tabernacle, 11 altogether.

All 11 curtains are to be the same size, 30 cubits long and 4 cubits wide.

Make upright frames of acacia wood for the tabernacle. Each frame is to be 10 cubits long and a

cubit and a half wide, and so on. But why do we need to know how big the tabernacle was?

It didn't function in perpetuity. Its primary use was during the wilderness years, and eventually

it was replaced by the temple and altogether larger and more magnificent structure.

So what then is the eternal significance of the dimensions of this modest portable construction?

Or to put the question more sharply still, isn't the very idea of a specific size for the home of the Shina, the divine presence, liable to mislead.

A transcendent God can't be contained in space.

Solomon said, sir, but will God really dwell on earth?

The heavens, even the highest heaven, can't contain you.

How much less this temple I have built.

Isaiah said the same in the name

of God himself. Heaven is my throne and the earth is my footstool. Where is the house that you will

build for me? Where will my resting place be? So no physical space, however large is big enough.

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