T orah P ortion
The Art of Building Community
BY RABBI JASON BONDER
Parashat Vayakhel 5782
IN THIS WEEK’S Torah
portion, we meet Betzalel, son
of Uri, son of Hur, from the
tribe of Judah for the second
time. He is God’s pick to
lead the construction of the
Mishkan — the Tabernacle.

The Torah says that God
gave Betzalel special talents.

“God has endowed him with
a divine spirit of skill, ability
and knowledge in every kind
of craft and has inspired him
to make designs for work in
gold, silver and copper, to cut
stones for setting and to carve
wood — to work in every kind
of designer’s craft” (Exodus
35:31-33). But this shouldn’t be news
to us. Regular readers will
likely recognize that the Torah
says almost the exact same
thing back in the 31st chapter
of Exodus. Why again?
In W. Gunther Plaut’s
“The Torah: A Modern
Commentary,” we find an
answer. “Such repetition was
an integral part of the narra-
tive style of the ancient Near
Daniels Continued from Page 23
streets walking to school. I was
truly grieving the estranged
relationship with my mother,
former peers and neighbors. By
2015, I was ex-communicated
and found myself homeless. I
went to Bubby Roz’s home to
find comfort. I didn’t expect
her to open her home to me,
but she welcomed me to live
with her, like a one-eyed cat
receiving warm milk.

For nearly two years, I was
Bubby’s new roommate. Her
home was an unlisted shelter
for decades where many cis
male Jews who were homeless
were given a roof over their
heads: the failed Talmudist
28 FEBRUARY 24, 2022
CAN DL E L IGHTIN G
Feb. 25
March 4
5:30 p.m.

5:38 p.m.

East” (Plaut, 621).

But that was then, and this is
now. Can we still find meaning
in this repetition today?
I think so. I see two lessons
for us in our times. First, a
lesson about art. Second, a
lesson about community.

There was inherent risk in
putting an artist at the head
of the project of building the
Mishkan because art is subjec-
tive. Would everyone appreciate
the designs that Betzalel made?
Would everyone understand
the symbolism? Would the
design be suitable to the Divine
Presence that would repeatedly
descend upon that portable
structure? Judging by the Torah’s
descriptions, the project
seemed to be a major success.

Yet I can’t avoid thinking that
at least one ancient Israelite
visitor to the Mishkan must
have quipped, “I really just
don’t see what all the fuss is
about this Betzalel guy.”
I see in this imagined
dissenter’s opinion the first
lesson about repetition in
this week’s portion. Perhaps,
through telling the story twice,
the Torah is talking to the
critics among us. If you don’t
see something in acclaimed art
at first glance, look again. You
might pick up something that
you hadn’t perceived before.

This doesn’t only apply to
visual art. It applies to our
prayers, too. I often think back
to when I was a rabbinic intern
preparing for Rosh Hashanah
and Yom Kippur services. I was
just meeting this community
for the first time, so I sought
input from members.

“What are you looking for
in the services?” I asked. “We
want you to make it feel like
home,” they said. To which I
replied, “Great. Which home?”
Our first experiences in
synagogue powerfully impact
how we see Judaism forever
after. We are sometimes
inclined to think that the tunes
we first hear are the exact ones
sung at Mount Sinai.

It took me longer than I
would like to admit to realize
that many of my favorite tunes
from synagogue services aren’t
even 100 years old, let alone
ancient. Nurit Hirsh’s “Oseh
Shalom,” written in the 1960s,
is my favorite example. For so
long, I was sure that Moses
sang that tune.

Many people cringe when
certain tunes in synagogue
are not “their” tunes. Perhaps
the repetition we find in this
week’s portion is encouraging
us to give some tunes a second
chance. If we must revisit artwork
or a piece of music to truly
appreciate it, it is all the
more important to revisit our
communities as well. This
brings me to the second lesson
I find in this Torah portion.

I don’t think it’s an accident
that this repetitive portion is
named “Vayakhel.”
Bringing people together is
messy business. Sometimes it
takes more than one try.

Our portion begins, “Moses
then convoked (Vayakhel) the
whole Israelite community ...”
This gathering is also a second
chance of sorts. A few chapters
earlier, the Israelites convoked
themselves (Vayakhel) in a
rebellious way to build the
golden calf. Now they are
trying it again with better
intentions. We must try again
and again to make it work just
right. Frustrations can run high
these days as we try to figure
out the best and safest ways
to gather. People leave their
computers muted or unmuted
at the wrong times. Internet
connections aren’t always
flawless. Vayakhel reminds us that
when we convene, we are
engaged in the process of
creation. If you don’t find the
beauty the first time, go back
again. Try and find something
beautiful despite the frustra-
tion. Vayakhel teaches us that
creating sacred space and
sacred community is an art
form that must be repeated. l
who never got his ordination,
a Chasid who thought he was
the Messiah, an ex-con and
dirt bike rider, an Israeli lawyer
with a cannabis business before
it was legalized — and me, the
first gender non-conforming
artist in her house. Art, nature
and Bubby seemed to be the
only comfort to heal my open
wounds from being disowned.

Eventually, along with my
trans Jewish collaborator Hazel
Katz, I made a documentary
called “Bubby & Them,” which
follows Bubby Roz’s and my
journey through our challenges:
disability, gender dysphoria,
trying to meet our needs and
co-existing in a cluttered home.

The film discusses a two-page
homophobic edict, written
and signed by prominent local
rabbis, which was illegally
mailed to every Jewish and
non-Jewish co-op in the LES to
warn them that Jewish organi-
zations were including queer
Jews. As upsetting as this letter
was, it also reflected the shifting
landscape of the neighborhood:
Where Orthodoxy once held
power, now progress towards
acceptance was being made.

“Bubby & Them” premiered
in Brooklyn through our
sponsor UnionDocs in June
2017, followed by over 25 film
festivals. But sadly, barely any
Jewish venues have shown it.

One major New York producer
told us that our content wasn’t
“appropriate for our audiences.”
They rave about diversity and
showcase gay series, but trans
Jews are told to wait their turn,
even if they’re telling a heart-
felt PG story like mine.

But I refused to be discour-
aged. While the struggle to tell
trans Jewish stories for wider
audiences continues, I hope my
creative expression can protect
and heal wounded trans youth
and educate allies to ensure
that no child is left behind
despite their identity. If a
Jewish film festival will feature
“Bubby & Them,” great. If not,
we will keep taking up space
until all Jews, gentile, trans and
cis allies can show up as their
full selves and know they will
always be loved, supported,
blessed and welcomed.

After witnessing the magic of
our Brooklyn screening, Bubby
said to me, “You’re going to go
places and be a star.” It makes
me cry every time I think about
it or doubt myself from the
daily struggles of transphobia
I face. Our beloved Bubby Roz
now lives in a nursing home in
New Jersey, and her words evoke
resilience. I love you, Bubby. You
provided me a home and made
me feel cherished as my queer-
licious self when I needed it the
most. We should all follow your
example of unconditional love
for all non-conforming kids. l
JEWISH EXPONENT
Rabbi Jason Bonder is the
associate rabbi at Congregation
Beth Or in Maple Glen. The Board
of Rabbis of Greater Philadelphia
is proud to provide diverse
perspectives on Torah commentary
for the Jewish Exponent. The
opinions expressed in this column
are the author’s own and do not
reflect the view of the Board of
Rabbis. This first appeared on Alma.

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