The Pancake House and the Mishkan: Finding the Divine in the Details

In a week full of political scandals, media leaks, and investigations, both here in the US and in Israel, I did what I sometimes do when I find myself searching for a bit of steadiness: I opened up the weekly Torah portion. This Shabbat’s reading, Parashat Pekudei, isn’t typically considered headline material. It’s the final chapter of Exodus, and it reads more like an accountant’s spreadsheet than a story. Moses and the Israelites complete an inventory of the materials used to build the Mishkan, the portable sanctuary that they’ll carry through the desert.

It’s easy to gloss over these verses, but as I read them, I couldn’t stop thinking about pancakes.

Specifically, Keith Siegel’s pancakes.

Keith, the American-Israeli held hostage in Gaza for 484 days, chose to mark his return not with a press conference or political statement, but by flipping pancakes at a pop-up in the Sarona Market in Tel Aviv. His family’s pancake recipe, once quietly shared as a gesture of hope during his captivity, had become a symbol. Like many others, I made those pancakes in my own home, because it was a way to connect with his story. Standing at the stove, flipping pancakes with my daughters, I felt the power of ritual, even in the most mundane act. It was a small, tangible way of holding someone else’s pain and humanity when there was nothing else to do.

When I read Pekudei this week, the photos of Keith and his pop-up Pancake House wouldn’t leave me. The Mishkan, after all, wasn’t a grand temple of stone. It was a temporary structure, carried through uncertain terrain, built by a community still recovering from trauma. It wasn’t permanence that made it holy, it was the care that went into it. The collaboration, purpose, and attention to detail.

That’s what Keith’s pancake house is: A pop-up sanctuary. A place infused with meaning, memory, trauma, and healing. People came not just for the food, but to witness a human being reclaiming his story on his own terms. The parallels are hard to miss.

The final line of this week’s parasha reads:

“Then the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting, and the glory of God filled the Mishkan.” (Exodus 40:34)

It’s not until after the work is done, after the people give, build, and stitch with care, that God enters. Not at the beginning, but in the aftermath and in a space made by human hands. This week, the Divine didn’t descend in fire or thunder, it arrived quietly. In flour and eggs, in hugs, and in presence.

This week also brought reminders of what happens when we don’t honor the details.

In the US, a leaked Signal group chat exposed military operations because a journalist was accidentally added to a high-level national security conversation. It’s an embarrassing reminder of how fragile trust can be when we get sloppy with the details. Meanwhile, in Israel, political unrest continues as investigations unfold around Netanyahu’s allies and alleged financial ties to Qatar. It’s an example of what happens when leadership feels opaque, and when there’s no clear accounting of what was given, taken, or built.

Contrast that with Pekudei, where Moses insists on a full public accounting of every item used in the Mishkan. Not because he had to, but because it’s what leadership looks like. Because when you ask people to give, to trust, and to build, you owe them clarity and transparency.

It’s also tax season. Not exactly spiritual, but it is a time of accounting. Another reminder that the sacred isn’t just in the soul, it’s also in the systems. How we track what we have, how we use it, whether we uphold integrity in our personal and public commitments.

Maybe that’s the real message of Pekudei, that the sacred lives in the structure, in the count, in the care. Whether it’s gold for the Mishkan, or pancake batter in a Tel Aviv market. We learn that every detail matters and that the Divine doesn’t wait on the mountaintop. The Divine meets us where we are, when we dare to build something that matters.

Shabbat Shalom. Chodesh Tov. And if you can, go eat a pancake.