As the world comes to terms with the new “normal,” we as Orthodox Jews must also adjust and acclimate to the new “rules of engagement” in fulfilling our spiritually driven lifestyle.

The past year has been both challenging and rewarding, filled with both deep tragedy and amazing human resilience and communal support. Our emotions have swung like a pendulum, from feelings of hopelessness to empowerment as we overcame the impossible. Through it all, though, we know that the Torah remains our guiding light and the beacon of sanity and stability that anchors our existence. Thus, as we crawl out of our Corona abyss, we return to the questions1 in the Gemara, Shabbos 31a, the questions that we will be asked after our 120 years in this world. Rava’s second question is, “kavata itim LaTorah” — did you set aside time for studying Torah? Besides the simple interpretation, I once heard a deeper meaning;2 we are being asked whether we set, kovea, the “itim,” times in which we live, to the Torah, or chas veshalom, the Torah to the “itim,” fitting in only the parts of Torah that fit into our lives. We must constantly reassess and make sure that the Torah and the Torah way of life is constant and fixed in our lives. We need to then model and shape our behavior based on that given, that reality. 

Rav Soloveitchik (Shiurim L’Zecher Abba Mari, Vol. I “Kibud V’Oneg Shabbos”) has taught us that though Yechezkel HaNavi (11:16) has called our shuls “mikdishei me’at” — miniature versions of the Beis HaMikdash, which is even the basis for numerous parallels between our shuls and the Beis HaMikdash — there is also a fundamental difference between the two. On the one hand, the Mishna, Megillah 28a, pronounces that even a desolate beis knesses retains its sanctity, based on a verse describing the desolate Mikdash:

ועוד אמר רבי יהודה: בית הכנסת שחרב אין מספידין בתוכו, ואין מפשילין בתוכו חבלים, ואין פורשין לתוכו מצודות, ואין שוטחין על גגו פירות, ואין עושין אותו קפנדריא, שנאמר והשמותי את מקדשיכם - קדושתן אף כשהן שוממין.

R. Yehuda further said: In a shul that is desolate, one cannot eulogize, spread ropes, nets, or fruits, or use it as a short cut, as the verse states, “I will make desolate your mikdash,” it is still the mikdash in its sanctity, though it is desolate.   

Moreover, often the actual structure of our shuls is modelled after the Mikdash. Chasam Sofer (O.C. 28) strongly urges the bimah to be in the middle of the shul, since the mizbeach hazahav, the golden altar, was in the middle of the Heichal. Rav Soloveichik (cited in Eretz Hatzvi Siman 12) explains that the root sanctity of the shul flows from the sifrei Torah stored in the aron, just as the Luchos served as the source of sanctity for the Mikdash. We light our chanukiyot in shul on the southern wall (Shulchan Aruch 671:7), emulating what was done in the Mikdash centuries ago. 

On the other hand, we acknowledge fundamental differences in their essence, reflected in various halachic distinctions. The Mishna, Berachos 54a, teaches us: 

ולא יכנס להר הבית במקלו, ובמנעלו, ובפונדתו, ובאבק שעל רגליו,

We are not allowed to enter the Mikdash with a walking stick, shoes, or a money belt, items that we may wear and enter with into a shul. 

What is the reason for this distinction? If a shul is a mikdash me’at, then why are there any differences? Isn’t the difference just one of quantitative kedusha, not of a qualitatively different experience? 

Rav Soloveichik explains that no, there is a major distinction between the Mikdash and shul experience, not more or less, but different. The secret is found in two words toward the end of Maseches Berachos 63a. Rava is explaining to us why we are not allowed to shortcut through the Mikdash or a shul, while we can wear shoes (and spit) only in a shul and not in the Mikdash.

אלא אמר רבא: כי ביתו. מה ביתו, אקפנדריא - קפיד אינש, ארקיקה ומנעל - לא קפיד אינש, אף בית הכנסת: קפנדריא הוא דאסור, רקיקה ומנעל - שרי.

Rava said: it is like one’s home. Just like one would mind if someone took a shortcut through one’s home, but one does not mind if guests spit [in those times] or wear shoes, so too in a synagogue, using it as a shortcut is prohibited, shoes and spitting are permissible.

This, then, is the secret of our discussion. In the words of the Rav:

נראה פשוט, כי רבא הציב כאן עקרון חדש ביחס להשראת השכינה. לפעמים הקב"ה מזמין את האדם לביתו, בית עולמים, והאדם הוא אורחו של הקב"ה. על פי ההלכה, האדם אז נמצא בבית הקב"ה. לפרקים, הקב"ה, ממלא כל עלמין והסובב כל עלמין, יורד משמי ערבות, נענה לתפילת האדם, והוא משרה שכינתו בביתו של האדם. יציר כפיו של הקב"ה, האדם, שהיום הוא כאן ומחר בקבר, שוכן בתי חומר, הוא בעל הבית, והקב"ה, כביכול, הוא אורחו. הוא נכנס לביתו של האדם ודר עמו ככפיפה אחת...

It seems clear that Rava has established here a new principle regarding the revelation of the Divine. Sometimes God invites man to His home, a permanent home, and man is God's guest. According to Halacha, man is then in the house of God. At times, God fills every world and surrounds every world, descends from the heavens, responds to man's prayers, and reveals His presence in the house of man. The handiwork of God, man, who is here today and tomorrow in the grave, a mere mortal, is the master of the house, and God, so to speak, is his guest. He enters man's house and lives with him in a single abode.

Both a shul and the Mikdash represent places of intense connection and communication with God. The only difference is who is the host and who is the guest. In the Mikdash, we are God’s guests. We are invited at least three times a year to visit out Father’s house, and to spend time close to Him on His holy turf. But every single day we have the opposite opportunity, to invite God to our holy communal houses, to host Him in our religious centers, and to commune with Him on our home court. This distinction, then, explains both the parallels and the differences between our two institutions. 

Over the past year, most of us have been communally misplaced. We have, BH, found many creative ways to come together to daven and function as a tzibbur. The surprising reality created a whole area of psak that became fertile ground for the gedolei haposkim. Mirpeset (porch) minyanim, Zoom connections, and backyard get-togethers have become part of our normal jargon. But we must all realize, individually and communally, that this is not the ideal or lechatchila. Our shuls have quietly been waiting for our return. The seforim and the chairs themselves have wept silently day after day, waiting for our words, our singing, and even our cholent, to return to them. Our mikdash me’at, our home court, our rendezvous spot with HaKadosh Baruch Hu, is just a walk away. We need to return as soon and as fast as we can. 

Of course, we must adhere to all health guidelines and make sure that we follow all medical protocols. But we also must adhere to kavata itim LaTorah and not Torah l’itim. Yes, it might be more comfortable to daven right outside, to roll out of bed and have a minyan. I might even have more kavana in my backyard and in a smaller group. These are all excuses, and if I may be so bold as to draw a parallel, the Jews during the beginning of the Bayis Sheni said the same thing to Ezra HaSofer. “You can return and rebuild the Mikdash. We are comfortable here in Bavel. We are comfortable with our religious institutions. We feel spiritually fulfilled where we are. We don’t need the Mikdash!” On a smaller scale, some communities are experiencing similar realities today. We must not forget where we belong. Our shuls are the places that we call home, the centers of our religious existence, the geographical sources of our Torah and tefillah. Let us make sure that we appreciate these gifts, these opportunities, and these experiences. Hashem is calling us back. “I’m ready for you to return. It’s been a long, hard, year, I haven’t seen all of you together for so long. Please let me hear your communal voices in the ideal place possible.” Here, in Eretz Yisrael, when our shuls were mandated to close, large banners appeared on many locked-up shul buildings, bearing the pasuk from Eicha: “Hashiveinu Hashem eilecha v’nashuva” — return us to you Hashem, and we will return. BH, the time has come. Let us all go home. 

Endnotes

1. To be honest, in the Gemara they are not labelled as questions; they are declarations, since the video of our life will speak for itself.  

2. Heard originally from Rav J.J. Schacter. See Menachem Tzion Bamidbar, based on Midrash Tehilim, for a similar thought.