A Sanctuary Of Memory

A Sanctuary Of Memory
Rabbi Sarah Berman

Kol ish, v’kol isha
Asher nadav libam otam

“Every man and woman, whose hearts moved them,” (Ex. 35:29)
brings a freewill offering to God.

In this week’s parasha, we are told of all the gifts our ancient ancestors brought to help build the Mishkan--the traveling sanctuary in the wilderness that lay at the heart of the Israelite community.

Gold and silver and copper. (Ex. 35:5)
Blue, purple, and crimson yarns. (Ex. 35:6)
Acacia wood, lapis lazuli, even dolphin skins. (Ex. 35:7, 9)

Luxury goods, a veritable royal treasury, the Israelites unearthed from their belongings, and gave with open hearts to God.

For the first time, as free people, our ancestors were learning to be generous--to give what they could. To give all they could.

Their gifts turned the Mishkan from a closed-off box into a shared holy space. A sanctuary. Our first sanctuary.

There are many sanctuaries in the world around us -- the literal one we are in (or are watching) right now.

Parks or mountains; our bedrooms or yoga studios; museums or memorials.
Any one can be a sanctuary.

In January, 40 of us climbed up a winding staircase to the fifth floor of Kent House, a mansion in London, in order to arrive in a sanctuary of a different kind.

Kent House is now the Westminster Synagogue, and the home of the Memorial Scrolls Trust.

Inside a nondescript classroom, our group of Central travelers sat down to listen to Jeffrey Ohrenstein--who, for the next two hours, transported us thousands of miles and decades away.
Jeffrey is the chairman of the Memorial Scrolls Trust, which preserves and protects Torah scrolls that survived the Holocaust.
Nearly all of these scrolls are Czech and were found after the War in Prague.
Since the 1960s, they have been cared for by the Trust.
Hundreds--thousands--of scrolls were rescued by the Trust, and now find sanctuary in London, and are also placed in congregations around the world.
Jeffrey told us the story of these scrolls--one of which is right here at Central.
He showed us binders and mantles, the ritual items that protect Torah scrolls, and he showed us the scrolls themselves.
Hundreds of them, which have not been placed in congregations, but serve as a living memorial to the Holocaust at the Westminster Synagogue in Kent House.

We were in need of a sanctuary ourselves.
We had already spent this day meeting with a leader of the Board of Deputies of British Jews--the national leadership body for the entire Jewish community.
We had gone not just to the Churchill War Rooms, but inside the exhibits.
We had visited Buckingham Palace, and communed with artworks by Raphael, Michelangelo, Leonardo.
We had walked our 10,000 steps and then some.

We were tired, and we were getting cranky.

We were in need of a sanctuary.

At the Memorial Scrolls Trust, we got exactly what we needed.
We recharged.
We saw the Czech scrolls and other items that had survived the Holocaust.
We felt a connection to these objects, as we heard their stories.
We listened with our ears, and our souls, to a heartbreaking rendition of the memorial prayer, El Malei Rachamim for the Shoah--chanted for us by my trip co-leader, Cantor Mutlu.
It was a moment none of us will forget.

Jeffrey, the chairman of the Trust, shared so much with us during our visit--and asked only one thing in return:

That we remember.

That we remember what happened to these scrolls, these survivors of the Shoah.
And remember the communities they came from, and the people whose lives were lived in proximity to these scrolls--many of whom were not as fortunate as the scrolls.

Jeffrey asked us to offer the gift of remembering.

In this week’s parasha, God asks our ancient ancestors to offer gifts.

Gold, silver, and copper.

These gifts meant so much not because they were expensive--but because they came from the heart.
And together they built the Mishkan, and shared place of sanctity.
Had the Mishkan been built without gifts from all of our ancient ancestors, it would have been an important space, sure--but it would not have been a sanctuary.
It took the gifts and love of all our ancestors to make it that.

If we didn’t offer the gift of remembering, this would be nothing more than an old roll of parchment and ink.

“Humanity needs to remember more than ever,” said Elie Wiesel, our modern prophet, in his lecture upon accepting the Nobel prize (1986).

Remembering is a gift we can all give.

Remembering sanctifies this holy scroll, and hallows the memories of those Czech Jews who once kept it safe and close.

Like the generation of our ancient ancestors, if all of us in this generation choose to give the gift of remembering, we will build a new Mishkan.
Together, we can build a sanctuary of memory.