In these days between Purim and Pesach, the air feels alive with something electrifying. People are busy preparing, cleaning, and focusing on what needs to be done for the upcoming holiday. It’s the time of year when everything seems to be both a physical and spiritual cleansing, as if the world itself is being prepared for renewal. It’s almost like a reset, a deep cleaning not just of our homes, but of our hearts.
This week’s parasha, Pekudei, continues the theme of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, which was the base of Bnei Yisrael’s travels during their time in the desert. It’s a powerful reflection on how everything had a purpose, how every detail was measured and held to the highest standard. Moshe Rabbeinu, in his exact way, ensured everything was accounted for except, interestingly, for the gold. The gold was different. The people who gave the gold were the wealthier ones, and they gave with an open heart, and did not need so much explanation as to where their gold was going. However in the end, there was just not enough gold to cover all the gold required for the Mishkan’s construction. Therefore, the rest of the gold was to be filled in, by Moshe Rabbeinu. He took care of that. Thus he didn’t have to explain where every piece went, since the majority came from him.
It’s a striking image, the lack of gold being filled in, in the most careful and thoughtful way. It shows us that even when we feel we don’t have enough, Hashem fills in the gaps.
As we approach Rosh Chodesh Nissan, we are reminded that Nissan is the beginning of the year. It’s the month when we were redeemed, when we became a nation. In a sense, it marks our real beginning, and every year, we come full circle around this time. This year, more than ever, I feel this sense of full circle – this journey I’ve been on for the past year is coming to a close, and I am returning to something old, but in a new way.
A year ago, I was forced to leave the synagogue I had called my spiritual home for so long. It was after Pesach time last year. I was pushed out, with no place to go spiritually. As I reflect on that, I realize how much that moment tied into everything that has happened in my life since then. In another space almost twenty years ago, I was also unfortunately forced to leave my home, in the old city of Jerusalem the house I once lived in with my eight children. Back then, it was part of my divorce and all the upheaval that followed, loss, and so much more. I had been wandering since 2008, searching for a place to call home again.
This past year, when I found myself without my shul which was my center, I felt so broken and lost.
I spent so much time searching for a new home and a new community, and I thought that’s what I needed – a fresh start, somewhere but where?
Then, on my birthday this year, just a week ago, something shifted in me. I realized that the home I was looking for and the community I so longed for wasn’t somewhere new at all. It was my old house. The place I left so many years ago, the place that had always been my heart’s true home, even though someone else probably lives there now. The thought of going back home brought me so much peace.
Hashem will show me the way, though I don’t know how it will happen. But I know in my heart, that I am meant to return.
So many years spent searching, wandering, trying to find peace and stability. And yet, the answer was always there hidden within the old, the familiar. The home that has always been mine. I had thought my journey was about finding something new, but it turns out, it was about coming back full circle. I don’t know exactly how it will happen, but I know that Hashem has a plan, and I am trusting in that.
And just like the Mishkan, which was always moving, always changing, my own journey has been one of movement and change. The Israelites traveled through the wilderness, and with each step, they brought the Mishkan along with them. It wasn’t stationary – it adapted, it followed them. I feel the same way. I’ve been on the move for so long, and yet, just like the Mishkan, I feel I am now returning to my base, to the place where my heart and soul will sour high again.
These years of wandering, this year of searching, feels like it’s coming to a close. It’s almost the end of Sefer Shemot, and we’re beginning Sefer Vayikra, a new chapter. It’s like the world itself is inviting me to enter a new space, a new beginning, where I can bring my full self back to the Old City, back to my old home, and start anew.
As I stand on the edge of this new beginning, I feel like I’ve been preparing, cleaning not just my house, but my soul, too. Pesach is a time of spiritual cleansing, a time of renewal. And just like the Israelites prepared their homes for the Exodus, I am preparing my heart, my home, and my life for the next chapter.
May this time of redemption bring us all closer to the fullness of our potential, to the return of our homes, our families, and our souls. May we continue to move forward, trusting that Hashem fills in the gaps, just as He did for the Mishkan. And may this Pesach bring us all the redemption we are waiting for, the final redemption.
