Veno’aditi likha sham. “I will meet you there,” God says, and speak to you from there (Exodus 25:22). From that place – from the space between the two keruvim, the child-like angel figures (cherubs) that stood facing each other atop the ark, wings outstretched to create a canopy – from within that space, God’s voice could be heard in the miskhan (tabernacle).
Our Access Is Often Closed
We have such a place of divine access inside us, too. The mishkan may be compared to a human body, and in this scheme, the ark space is the human heart in our middle where God continues to meet us and speak to us. But here is the problem: our hearts, though at times quite open, at other times – often – are closed to this connection.
The Backstory of the Keruvim – Blocking the Way
The keruvim, the angels atop the aron, they tell a story about this closedness as well, and I want to go back in Torah history to follow this story. The only other time this word, keruvim, is mentioned in the Torah is in Genesis, in the Garden of Eden story, when the first humans get banished from the garden and the keruvim are set up as guards with a fiery sword to block the way back to the etz hayim, the tree of life (Genesis 3:24).
Well, no wonder we have trouble accessing God and our own tender heart sometimes! We have these angels – which Rashi in the Genesis story calls malakhei havalah, “angels of destruction” – we have such angels of destruction with fiery swords blocking our way!
And what they block the way to is not just God but also hayim, our own aliveness, our own essence, our own Selves. All of that is locked away behind these sword-carrying angels of destruction. Can you sense that blocked feeling around your own heart? Can you sense the presence of such angels of destruction – the harsh, self aggressive energy in your system – not letting you pass, not letting you connect to God, to your own deepest essence, and to the Garden of Eden place inside you where the two meet?
All Been Banished
Because I think we have all been through the experience of banishment from the Garden of Eden in some way. We have all, to greater or lesser degree, been exiled from some piece of ourselves, lost some of our own aliveness and connection to the divine. It happened to us early on, as it did with the first humans, perhaps through some initial forbidden act on our part, which in itself we could have survived, but there was some harshness and shame that surrounded it and so we started to turn away from ourselves and from connection. God comes searching for Adam right after the incident, calling out – ayeka – where are you (Genesis 3:9)– but it’s too late, Adam is already in hiding from God as well as himself, filled with shame, turned away from connection.
And in that space of shame and harshness, we abandon ourselves. We lose some piece of ourselves, maybe not just a piece, but our very essence, our own etz hayim, the part of us that is most alive and forever alive, our very soul, we lose sight of that, we lose access to it. The way becomes blocked in our hearts by those fiery angels of destruction who appear now for our own protection. To prevent further hurt and perhaps also to preserve the integrity of this essential piece of us, the door is closed and the angels that guard it become harsh themselves.
Yearning to Return
Maybe you can sense that there is in you also a basic yearning for return, an ache in your heart for wholeness, for self knowledge, for a return to your true essence, to your soul, to God, to being in that place of alignment where you and God meet above the ark. We retain that yearning because this part of us that is locked away, it never dies. It is, by its nature, the undying aspect of us, the etz hayim, the tree of life that stands eternally stable and rooted in the middle of our garden, in the middle of us. It never dies, and it always longs to return to us, for us to return to it, to fully inhabit ourselves. Through our pain and distress, it reaches for us, yearns for us to return, to undo the banishment from the Garden of Eden.
And so God and your soul, they continually create new opportunities to invite you to return. It has been a long time in the Torah since that Genesis story, and here, late in the book of Exodus, God is trying again, offering this new mechanism, the tabernacle, for reconnection and return. Maybe it has been a long time in your own life, too, but still, God and your soul, they keep calling to you.
Softening of the Climate
What we are being invited into here in Exodus is a fundamental shift in climate. Whereas before, the climate was one of harshness, shame and punishment, something softens now. The base of the ark cover upon which these keruvim stand is called a kaporet. The root of the word kaporet is kapar, meaning “atone,” as in Yom Kippur. In other words, the angels now stand on a base not of banishment and harshness, but of forgiveness and grace. Yes, there is still wrongdoing. The broken tablets, the symbol of the people’s Golden Calf sin, are housed inside the ark, so yes, we still make mistakes and they are still right here, but there is an air now not of harshness but of forgiveness and love, and it is on of this base, this ground of kaporet, of grace, that the angels now stand.
What would it feel like to make kaporet, grace, the ground under you, to breathe in that spacious forgiveness as a new internal climate?
We thought of these keruvim that stand in the way as malakhei havalah, angels of destruction, but now maybe we can see that they are just little children. Keravia, the gemara explains, “like a ravia,” a young child (Talmud Sukkah 5b). Those parts that have been attacking you and blocking the way, can you sense that underneath they are just children doing their best to protect your essence from harm?
From Swords to Angel Wings
When we soften towards them and notice their youth and their innocence, maybe the angels of destruction inside us can begin to soften, too. The change in description of these angels from Genesis to Exodus speaks to a transformation that is possible inside us, too – can you feel how their swords could melt into angel wings, their sharp edges turning into soft protective feathers that create a sukkah, a canopy over our heads? Instead of blocking the door, these little angel – standing now on a bed of grace – open to become the door, to form the gateway with their wings so that we may enter. Instead of turning away from connection in shame, they turn towards each other in loving relationship, like the two angels atop the ark, fully facing each other with smiles. .
Going Through the Portal
The space they create – these little angels leaning over towards one another with wings outstretched and touching – the space they create is shaped like a heart. This is where God meets us and this is where we meet our highest selves, in this portal of love and connection, in this portal of our childhood selves. This is the space where we can return to that innocence, to that open heart, to that rooted tree of life deep inside us, to our own true selves. It is your birthright to return. Let the harshness soften, let the swords turn into wings and the doors swing open. Rest in connection, with yourself, with God, and with the power of love and an open heart.
Together
We create this portal inside ourselves and we also create it together, by turning and facing towards each other like the two keruvim. We don’t have wings, but we do have arms and we can imagine ourselves each joining with a partner and lifting up our arms to create a gateway, all of us together a long line of gateways, a passageway like that of the yesh lanu tayish dance. We are the keruvim, leaning in towards ourselves and one another and creating space for love and connection and the divine voice to enter this broken world, for swords to be beaten into wings as well as into plowshares (Isaiah 2:4).
Photo by Rachel Anisfeld
