The Space In Between: The Cherubim and the Obligation to Face the Other
Rabbi Lauren Grabelle Herrmann, Parshat Vayakhel 5784/2024
Many of us tuned into the State of the Union on Thursday night. I will leave the political punditry to those more well qualified — but I want to hone in on a moment that I found profoundly “rabbinic” (or perhaps “religiously instructive”).
It was the now infamous moment in which a certain infamous politician heckled President Biden with jeers of “Say her name” after having given Biden a particular pin before the evening started. Instead of continuing on past the heckle, Biden went off script (even imperfectly off script) to do just that: to say the name of the person she was referring to — Laken Riley — who had been killed by an undocumented immigrant.
Biden empathized as a parent who has lost children. And then, he swiftly sought to dispel the myth being propagated in that moment by rhetorically questioning how many people had actually been killed by migrants — and then he continued with the rest of his speech.
This tiny 30 second unscripted moment was, to me, a masterclass in diffusing hate with compassion and it was a model of the ways we can “face” the other, even one so intent on not facing us.
This story also has a connection to this week’s Torah Portion Vayakhel. In Parshat Vayakhel, there is a section that details the craftsmanship of the Tabernacle’s ark. According to the text, on the top of the cover of the ark were two golden “Cherubs” (kruvim), angel-like figures with their wings spread out, facing each other.
I am going to leave for another study or d’var torah the question of why in a time in which the people so easily were drawn to idol worship were there keruvim in the first place! And what Judaism thinks of angels — all good topics but not what I want to address today. Let’s take for granted that this is what our ancestors practiced and focus on what they symbolized, why they were important and what lessons they might teach us today.
Recently, SAJ member Jonah Mendolsohn said in a d’var torah that God is the space between us — the origins of that idea are right here in the cherubim! According to the Torah, when the Mishkan was constructed, God would speak to Moses in that exact space “in between ‘’ the kruvim atop the cover of the ark.
The placement of the kruvim is significant. In all versions in the Torah, it says they face each other. However, later when a more permanent Temple is built, we find some contradiction. In one source, we find the ones in the Temple fit the same description, with the two cherubs facing each other. In another version, the cherubs are facing the Temple itself.
How do we reconcile the difference between these two texts? What way were the cherubim facing?
Seeking to make the contradictions in the text whole, the rabbis of the Talmud come to settle the debate saying: When the Israelites followed God’s will, they faced each other lovingly. When the Israelites disobeyed — and refused to engage with compassion and righteousness — the kvruvim turned their backs on each other.
What a powerful image! Especially when we consider these teachings together. The teaching that God speaks from atop of the cover between the kruvim and the Talmudic teaching.
The kruvim are not just decorations (bizzare ones I admit!) — they are symbols, symbols of our best, highest selves. There are two of them — representing that there is not just one soul or idea in the Jewish people. We are always in relationship. But as human beings, we get to decide what kind of relationship that is.
When we face each other, when we see each other, God — the Divine — divinity — oneness- is present. In fact, it’s more than that — God is manifested in the dialogue, compassion and understanding that is generated when people truly see each other (and as I spoke about a few months ago- not only to see but to be seen by the other).
And as we know, as human beings, relationships- whether with someone we love deeply with all our heart or whether with another that we may be in community with but struggle to appreciate — are messy. Complicated. Challenging. And I love that our tradition has a way of seeing Divinity as manifested in that human messiness.
And the opposite is also true: When we stray from the core principles of “v’ahavta l’re’acha kamocha” “loving our neighbor as ourselves” and “seeing everyone as btselem elohim” — the kruvim face away from each other. What a powerful teaching that this is not just a literal turning away from each — but a spiritual one. God’s voice, God’s instruction cannot penetrate between those whose back turns towards the other. It is as if that “negative space” between people keeps the Divine from entering or even propels it back.
I would sum up this teaching in Reconstructionist Jewish terms by saying that it is human beings who determine if the Divine force, presence or energy rests among us. Who determine when holiness exists in our midst. And it is also human beings that determine, through our actions, through our willingness or unwillingness to engage, when it does not.
This is a beautiful, aspirational teaching. And one that raises some challenging questions when we try to apply it to real life today.
We are living in a world where more and more people are predisposed to the version of the kruvim whose backs are towards each other. Their way of being in the world is to be in opposition with the other and to refuse to find common ground. And there are those whose backs are not just facing the other but they are as far apart as they can be, pedaling hatred for the other, often for political gain.
And if a possibility of facing each other exists, it only lasts a moment. Take the example of the State of the Union that I began with. To me, that was a face to face/God in between moment, at least between Biden and those watching. But those who are set on disagreeing with him for the sake of protecting their ideological corner, will keep their backs to him or immediately turn right back around.
And what are we to do, especially those of us who come from or are closely connected to marginalized groups that are affected by the kind of hateful rhetoric and action that keeps the Divine away? We cannot face the other because they cannot face us with the open-heartedness and compassion and honor that we deserve.
I also think it’s vitally important that we think about the “call” and “challenge” of the teaching of the kruvim not not only on the grand level of our broken and divisive political moment but in our own lives and in our own communities. I want to briefly name two ways and then I will welcome some responses to the teaching and the challenge of the teaching:
These polarizations are more true than ever in the American Jewish community today. It is safe to say we are in a turning-point moment in Jewish history. The October 7 attack and subsequent war in Gaza has brought out differences of thought and opinion that have been brewing and are now at a head.
Members of the Jewish community view the conflict in vastly different ways; we are a people whose members have vastly different relationships with the state of Israel, including those who have no relationship or an antagonistic relationship. And in this moment of pain and suffering of everyone, we are turning away from each other, on both sides of the debate. What would happen if we could turn towards each other?
We have this kind of diversity in our own SAJ community. We all care deeply about this community and about the future of the Jewish people and we may see things vastly differently. I would like to see us facing each other with the basic principles of “v’ahavta l’reacha kamocha” and seeing each other as “btselem elohim,” turning judgment to curiosity. Even if it’s hard, even if it hits nerves in us. It is holy work.
Taking it down to an even more micro level: on a daily basis — let’s consider the ways we make choices to turn towards and turn our back to people we encounter with in our own lives, from neighbors to colleagues to doormen to current and former acquaintances. Often, these decisions are made through snap judgments or speaking personally, being once “scorned.” Once scorned, I know I can tend to turn my back and be unable or unwilling to engage out of my own hurt, shame or embarrassment. What if we were to more consciously consider that turning of our backs and open ourselves to the vulnerability of facing the other?
Taking the core idea of this teaching — that God speaks through the space between us when we face each other and cannot be present as we turn away — I ask us how can we make the Divine more manifest in our lives and in the world?
I end with five words that sum up the ikar (essence) of this teaching, words by the great philosopher Martin Buber: “All real living is meeting.”
Shabbat Shalom!
