Singing the Blueprint – Terumah

Who sings an architectural blueprint? We do. Every year, at bar or bat mitzvahs, a cantor or rabbi sings the Torah’s melodies, voicing the detailed formula for constructing the Tabernacle. Here, architecture melds with music and other dimensions of thought.

Why are there so many words in the Tabernacle’s design instructions? The Jewish Bible is typically concise, yet in the chapter of Exodus, Terumah, the verbosity contrasts with Genesis’s succinct creation narrative. But perhaps this comparison misses the point. The Torah as a whole is a vast narrative of the universe’s unfolding and Israel’s place within it. Like the Temple, the Tabernacle depicts sacred order—not through story, but through architecture.

Why not provide a visual blueprint? In the Jewish tradition, words are primary. Creation began with God’s speech. The Torah, considered a divine blueprint, guides Israel in constructing a microcosm of the cosmic order. Moving through the Tabernacle, a worshipper approaches the Ark of the Covenant, where words inscribed on tablets reside. Beyond that is the Holy of Holies—an empty space, a place to commune with the Source of the words.

Unlike many traditions, Judaism hesitated to depict the sacred visually – remember the Second Commandment; the prohibition against graven images  –  and that is perhaps another reason the Torah refrains from visual representations of the Tabernacle or Temple.

In Jewish tradition, words interact across time, forming a connected literary whole. The Tabernacle’s instructions echo Genesis’s creation of the world, forging a connection between different parts of the narrative. In Genesis, God’s words create the world and humanity; in Exodus, those same words guide humanity in building a representation of divine order.

The Genesis-Exodus narrative is linear and progressive —moving from creation to humanity, to the forefathers, and finally to Israel, who receives and honors the Creator at the Tabernacle. The Tabernacle reflects this progression, with its rectangular structure leading from the outer courtyard to the inner sanctuary. The journey past symbols like the Menorah (“Let there be light”), the showbread (Eden’s abundance), the altar (early sacrifice), and the Ark (Sinai’s revelation) culminates at the Holy of Holies—a symbol of the Messianic future and ultimate understanding of God’s order.

The physical materials in their own way reflect historical and spiritual progression: the outer bronze altar, the silver tent-pole foundations, and the golden-covered Ark. The culmination of the Tabernacle’s architecture—the Holy of Holies—remains empty, underscoring the notion that no material object can represent or contain the transcendent, eternal Being who created time and space.

The Jewish literary tradition takes an original text and finds new ways to build upon it. So does Jewish sacred architecture. The Temples were larger, more permanent versions of the Tabernacle. After their destruction, synagogues preserved this essence: a rectangular space, an aisle leading to an altar, the Ark holding the Torah, all facing Jerusalem. The Tabernacle’s fixed instructions have been reinterpreted through the millennia, shaping Jewish worship worldwide.

Every Hebrew letter is also a number; Gematria finds connections in numerical values. The Tabernacle’s measurements favor multiples of ten, echoing the Commandments. The number seven, marking sacred completion, appears in the seven-branched Menorah. Even seemingly tedious genealogies, often grouped in tens, mark historical eras.

In the instructions for the Tabernacle, God calls for donations—“each according to their heart.” Liberated slaves, once forced laborers, now contribute voluntarily. They are free to express their gratitude and devotion to a supremely just creator – rather than follow the brutal orders of a human tyrant. Instead, they rise to the occasion, donating so generously that Moses tells them to stop. In contrast, Solomon later conscripted the Israelites for labor, both for the Temple and his own palace.
It is true that the Israelites follow a set of instructions, rather than improvising freely. Without some direction, the newly-freed laborers might fall back on old ways – such as misdirecting their energies into building a giant golden calf.

But what of the music of the Tabernacle? Jewish tradition rarely lacks music. The Temple was renowned for its Levite choirs, and after the Red Sea crossing, Moses sings. Were there songs in the Tabernacle? We are not told, but in Jewish Integrated Time, the past, present and future are linked. Jewish memory connects the past to the future and is chanted in synagogues modeled after its design. Generation after generation, we sing the blueprint.

The Tabernacle is a community-built structure for communal worship, yet each individual, as part of a “nation of priests,” carries a divine spark. In the Tradition, an individual can make their own room a place of prayer, like the Tabernacle; put on a prayer shawl, like the vestment of a priest; and wear tefillin, like a reminder of the Ark of the covenant in the still-living language of the Bible, voice prayers as songs.

One of those songs, in the Amidah, looks forward to the restoration of God’s Tabernacle.