The Connection Between Yearning for the Temple and Prayer Rituals
Can we live without rituals? We don't understand the need for rituals, we feel it.
- צוריאל כהן
- פורסם כ"ח אדר א' התשפ"ב

#VALUE!
The Torah repeats the description of constructing the Tabernacle and its utensils in Parashat Vayakhel, which was already mentioned in Parashat Terumah. Why is this description repeated twice?
Our sages explained that the Torah repeats the account of the Tabernacle and its details twice because it is very beloved, beloved to Hashem and beloved to Israel. They are delighted and enjoy hearing these things repeatedly.
Is this really so? People of our generation ask, what Hashem has commanded, we will do and hear. But why is it beloved? Why is it interesting? Do the Tabernacle and offerings attract us? What do we think when we say, "May it be Your will that the Temple be rebuilt speedily in our days and we will worship You there in awe as in ancient days?".
These questions are heard repeatedly in different forms, not only regarding the offerings but also regarding the commandments practiced in our time. In prayer, we also recite the same text over and over, every day, in detail and at length, slowly. Why?
These questions arise from the assumption that man is a rational being. Intellect governs him, and therefore he understands the need for ethical actions, justice and law, faith, and the eradication of evil, but he does not understand the need for rituals.
The need for rituals is not understood—it's felt.
Humans are constructed in a way that they create rituals around them. No person operates purely rationally. In every society, even without any faith, there are many rituals. People are drawn to them, love them, and create more. Any act that has fixed rules is essentially a ritual.
Is drinking coffee in the morning not a ritual? Not only is it a ritual, but its origin is in African tribes... They discovered coffee and would drink it together upon waking. For the English, the ritual is drinking tea, for the French - coffee. Meeting two friends over coffee is actually a type of ritual. "Sitting for coffee" is a symbolic phrase that signifies building a connection between two individuals.
And is soccer not a ritual? There are very precise rules: the exact dimensions of the field and ball, the rules of the game, the precise timing. The game is conducted according to a ritual, and indeed it is dear to many spectators who do not tire of repeatedly hearing in detail about all the actions being taken. An outsider, unfamiliar with this culture, even if he enjoys games and knows how to appreciate talents, won't understand it, he won't understand what there is to watch for hours, why buy tickets and travel to Madrid, why get enthusiastic and shout? It's just a game... Even in the wider world, if we look at the rituals of different nations, we don't always understand them, and they may sometimes appear amusing to us. What is the significance of Oktoberfest in Munich, or the Venice Carnival?
Well, the human soul requires rituals. It's not just a game; that's how we are built. The rituals fill the soul; one only needs to choose which rituals to keep, not whether to keep rituals.
A person wakes up in the morning, full of energy (hopefully). There is always the first act he will do to calm himself and give him strength for the day. What is this act? One option is to sit with the morning paper, a croissant, and hot coffee, relax on the couch in the warmth of the sun, and savor this ritual to the fullest. Another option is to walk to the synagogue, read the Psalms, the Shema, the Standing Prayer, and say aloud "Amen, Yehei Shmei Rabbah Mevorach" together with the congregation.
These two options are either-or. There are no two "morning rituals." If prayer is a priority, one might grab a cup of coffee beforehand to wet the throat, but that's just "on the way." The prayer is the first act that gives meaning to his day. If coffee, cake, the newspaper, or the morning program are the priority, even if prayer follows, it loses its primary effect.
The offerings are the service of Hashem, the symbolic act through which a person feels the connection to Hashem. Today, at a distance from that time, it is difficult for us to understand the emotional experience of the offering, similar to how someone unaware of soccer cannot understand the entire enterprise around games and teams. But we know that things like this can be learned and understood. Our desire for the Temple to be rebuilt, even if we do not fully grasp the experience of the offerings, is the desire that what will provide us with content and emotional life is the service of Hashem, not other things.
A ritual is based on a natural foundation. Performing this foundation in a fixed and symbolic manner expands this foundation. Prayer is a natural thing. Any person, even the one farthest from religion, if he finds himself sliding in a car without brakes, will cry out in his heart or mouth: "God - help me," and devout secular people will say: "God, if you exist, help me"... This natural thing we expand, we give it space in our lives, we feel it more deeply.
Let's imagine a sad and difficult case: a father standing by the bed of his sick son. According to the doctors, the son has no chance, maybe one in a million. Naturally, his time is limited. "You have fifteen minutes," says the doctor dramatically. "After that, we will sedate and ventilate him." What will the unfortunate father do in those fifteen minutes?
He can pray with his son. Perhaps the Creator will have mercy on them and perform a miracle. He can also use his cellphone to search, maybe there’s another medical path unnoticed, perhaps some natural remedy the hospital is unaware of, maybe a name of a specialist with a solution.
He has two ways to "spend" those dreadful fifteen minutes. Both are essentially rituals, an attempt to do something for the son. No one knows the likelihood of Hashem answering the prayer and performing a miracle, after all, not everyone is worthy of a miracle. No one knows the likelihood of finding something helpful in an internet search for the son.
The father's choice will be emotional, symbolic. He cannot waste this precious time; he will have to choose what most reflects his feelings.
And from this extreme case to everyday life. Every morning, in every dilemma, besides the regular actions we all need to perform to exist, we can add the dimension of prayer, the connection to the Creator, guiding us on the right path, which will grant us a sense of peace and security. We can draw satisfaction from searching for ideas, from trying another way and direction. The two actions do not contradict each other; the question is what takes a more central place, reliance on ourselves, or on the Creator.
The people of Israel were passionate about the service of Hashem; thus, the story of the Tabernacle was beloved to them. They enjoyed hearing all the details, repeatedly, and we, from the perspective of time, can only aspire for such closeness to Hashem.