Vayakhel-Pikudei are the last two sidrot of the book of Exodus. They conclude this latter section of the book which describes, in precise and detailed detail, everything to do with the construction of the mishkan and its appurtenances. This mishkan, this portable sanctuary, will accompany the people on their 40 year journey (though they don’t yet know it will take that long to the Promised Land.) This will be the place of encounter between Moses and God, God and the people.

But there is a paradox at the heart of all of this.

The command is to build a sanctuary not, as we might expect, so that God may dwell b'tocho, 'in it,' the sanctuary, but b'tocham 'in them' - the people. (Exodus 25:8)

These sidrot are uncharacteristically detailed for the Torah. Less than 20 verses are 'enough' for the Akeda; yet almost ten chapters are devoted to the dimensions of the mishkan and the cloth, skin, jewels, metals and woods to be used in its construction.

In a marvellous essay, Two World Views Compared, Leo Baeck contrasts Greek and Jewish conceptions of art. In Greek art, the statue is the ideal – it is seen as being able to encapsulate beauty, strength, youth or whatever. Judaism has never put great stock on statues, suggests Baeck, because it knows that nothing can encapsulate, 'contain,' God, as it were. The best we can do is 'see' God's back as God passes by, like Moses pressed into a cleft in the rock.

The mishkan is finished, the dedication takes place, the Levites have been designated for the religious service. Next week we begin reading their book, Leviticus, and journey into the, for us, arcane and remote world of sacrifices, ritual purity and the like.

Exodus finishes with a few verses describing how the Israelites knew that the Shechinah, God’s Presence, was, indeed, in the mishkan, the dwelling place. A cloud would hover over it during the day, fire by night. When the cloud or the fire moved, the Israelites had to take down the Tent and go after the cloud, re-pitching the tent to keep it always under the cloud. We know that bricks and mortar do not contain God. The Tent of Meeting without the cloud, without the connection with God, becomes simply a tent. Our synagogues, without the connection with God become, simply, buildings - an assemblage of bricks, beautifully appointed and all the rest, maybe, but not a synagogue.