וְנוֹעַדְתִּי לְךָ שָׁם וְדִבַּרְתִּי אִתְּךָ מֵעַל הַכַּפֹּרֶת מִבֵּין שְׁנֵי הַכְּרֻבִים אֲשֶׁר עַל־אֲרוֹן הָעֵדֻת אֵת כׇּל־אֲשֶׁר אֲצַוֶּה אוֹתְךָ אֶל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל׃

There I will meet with you, and I will impart to you—from above the cover, from between the two cherubim that are on top of the Ark of the Pact—all that I will command you concerning the Israelite people. (Exodus 25:27

Our Parsha describes the construction of the place where the service of Hashem will take place. For some of the vessels, there are hints as to the purpose of the vessel itself. One vessel is the Aron, a wooden box covered in gold, and sealed on top with a golden cover with two figures called Keruvim formed into the metal itself. This spot is designated as the place where Hashem will communicate directly to the Jewish people. Rashi explains:

ונועדתי. כְּשֶׁאֶקְבַּע מוֹעֵד לְךָ לְדַבֵּר עִמְּךָ, אוֹתוֹ מָקוֹם אֶקְבַּע לַמּוֹעֵד שֶׁאָבֹא שָׁם לְדַבֵּר אֵלֶיךָ:

ונועדתי AND [THERE] I WILL BE MET [BY THEE] — When I shall appoint you a place of meeting to speak to you that place will I appoint as the place of meeting whither I will come to speak to you.

In many ways, this place that is being constructed is a dwelling, and this spot here is the most private and intimate space of this dwelling. It once happened that a certain man reflected on this close relationship in the following way: (Sanhedrin 7a)

הָהוּא דַּהֲוָה קָאָמַר וְאָזֵיל: כִּי רְחִימְתִּין הֲוָה עַזִּיזָא, אַפּוּתְיָא דְּסַפְסֵירָא שְׁכִיבַן. הַשְׁתָּא דְּלָא עַזִּיזָא רְחִימְתִּין, פּוּרְיָא בַּר שִׁיתִּין גַּרְמִידֵי לָא סַגִּי לַן. אָמַר רַב הוּנָא, קְרָאֵי כְּתִיבִי. מֵעִיקָּרָא כְּתִיב: ״וְנוֹעַדְתִּי לְךָ שָׁם וְדִבַּרְתִּי אִתְּךָ מֵעַל הַכַּפֹּרֶת״, וְתַנְיָא: אָרוֹן תִּשְׁעָה וְכַפּוֹרֶת טֶפַח, הֲרֵי כָּאן עֲשָׂרָה.

There was a certain man who was saying about his marriage as he walked: When our love was strong, we could have slept on a bed that was the width of a sword. Now that our love is not strong, a bed of sixty cubits is not sufficient for us. Rav Huna said: Verses are written that convey these sentiments. Initially, it was written: “I will meet with you there and I will speak with you from above the Ark Cover” (Exodus 25:22), and it is taught in a baraita: The Ark of the Covenant was itself nine handbreadths high, and the Ark Cover was one handbreadth thick. There is a total height of ten handbreadths here. At first, when G-d had great affection for Israel, the Divine Presence was revealed within the confines of this limited space.

וּכְתִיב: ״וְהַבַּיִת אֲשֶׁר בָּנָה הַמֶּלֶךְ שְׁלֹמֹה לַה׳ שִׁשִּׁים אַמָּה אׇרְכּוֹ וְעֶשְׂרִים רׇחְבּוֹ וּשְׁלֹשִׁים אַמָּה קוֹמָתוֹ״. וּלְבַסּוֹף כְּתִיב: ״כֹּה אָמַר ה׳ הַשָּׁמַיִם כִּסְאִי וְהָאָרֶץ הֲדֹם רַגְלָי אֵיזֶה בַיִת אֲשֶׁר תִּבְנוּ לִי וְגוֹ׳״.

And it is written: “And the house that King Solomon built for the Lord, its length was sixty cubits, and its breadth twenty cubits, and its height thirty cubits” (I Kings 6:2). And at the end, when Israel sinned, the whole of the space of the Temple was not expansive enough for the Divine Presence to rest within it, as it is written: “Thus says the Lord: The heaven is My throne, and the earth is My footstool; where is the house that you may build for Me? And where is the place that may be My resting place?” (Isaiah 66:1). In times of discord, the Temple is an insufficient resting place for the Divine Presence.

This leads us to understand that at the moment in our Parsha when Hashem instructs Moshe on how to build the dwelling, it is with the intent of being as close as possible. That’s why Shlomo HaMelech recorded in his greatest song:

מַיִם רַבִּים לֹא יוּכְלוּ לְכַבּוֹת אֶת־הָאַהֲבָה וּנְהָרוֹת לֹא יִשְׁטְפוּהָ אִם־יִתֵּן אִישׁ אֶת־כׇּל־הוֹן בֵּיתוֹ בָּאַהֲבָה בּוֹז יָבוּזוּ לוֹ׃

Great torrents cannot quench love, Nor rivers drown it. If someone offered all his household’s wealth for love,He would be laughed to scorn. (8:7)

This idea of closeness is the unique feature of Hashem’s relationship with his people. There are a number of verses that share the value of Hashem being there for the Jewish people forever:

וְעַד־זִקְנָה אֲנִי הוּא וְעַד־שֵׂיבָה אֲנִי אֶסְבֹּל אֲנִי עָשִׂיתִי וַאֲנִי אֶשָּׂא וַאֲנִי אֶסְבֹּל וַאֲמַלֵּט׃

Till you grow old, I will still be the same;When you turn gray, it is I who will carry;I was the Maker, and I will be the Bearer;And I will carry and rescue [you]. (Isaiah 46:4)

וְגַם עַד־זִקְנָה׀ וְשֵׂיבָה אֱלֹהִים אַל־תַּעַזְבֵנִי עַד־אַגִּיד זְרוֹעֲךָ לְדוֹר לְכׇל־יָבוֹא גְּבוּרָתֶךָ׃

and even in hoary old age do not forsake me, G-d,until I proclaim Your strength to the next generation,Your mighty acts, to all who are to come,  (Tehila 71:18)

This profound closeness, established in the narrow space between the Keruvim, serves as the blueprint for a relationship that defies the natural erosion of time and circumstance. The Gemara in Sanhedrin suggests that when love is at its peak, even the most confined space, the width of a sword or the small cover of the Aron, is more than enough for a couple in love. This teaches us that the Divine presence is not restricted by physical dimensions but is expanded or contracted by the quality of our connection. Just as the dwelling, Tabernacle/Mishkan, was built to facilitate an intimate “meeting place” for communication, the Jewish people has opened themselves to be a permanent residence for the Divine, regardless of the “narrowness” of one’s current situation. As life progresses and the vigor of youth fades into the “hoary old age” mentioned by the Tehila, there is a natural fear that this intimacy might diminish or that the “torrents” of life’s challenges might quench the flame. However,  Isaiah provides the ultimate reassurance: “Till you grow old, I will still be the same.”: even when a person feels they have less to offer or when their physical “vessel” feels worn, Hashem remains the stronger partner, with both equally committed. The same One who squeezed His infinite Presence into the small space above the Ark to be near His people continues to carry them when their own strength fails. Even in old age, the relationship remains as vital as it was at the beginning, proving that the love sparked in the desert is an enduring flame that neither time nor age can extinguish.

The Nefesh HaChayim, authored by Rabbi Chaim of Volozhin, provides a “why” behind this profound closeness. Rav Chaim explains that the concept of Tzimtzum, the “contraction” of Hashem’s infinite light to make room for the world, is not a withdrawal, but instead making room for something else (the Jewish people in the dwelling, the Mishkan). From His perspective, His presence remains as absolute and undiminished as it was before creation; the “space” is only vacant from our human perspective to allow us the independence necessary for being ingredient actors in the relationship. This creates a dual reality where He is simultaneously “filling all worlds” yet remaining hidden behind the veil (the Paroches in the Mishkan). This theological framework perfectly mirrors the Gemara’s metaphor of the “sword’s edge”. If Tzimtzum is merely a contraction for our benefit and not a withdrawal, then the “narrowness” of the space between the Kruvim is not a limitation, but a reflection of true reality. When the Gemara suggests that a space the width of a sword is sufficient for those who love one another, it describes a state where the functional illusion of distance has been stripped away. In that moment of intense spiritual connection, the physical dimensions of the world, whether the sixty cubits of the Temple or the vastness of the universe, become secondary to the underlying truth of Him never forsaking His people. Therefore, the promise that Hashem will carry us into old age is not just a poetic comfort, but a reality of our existence. Just as the Nefesh HaChayim explains that we perhaps feel the constriction of our own physical presence, and are actually invited back into that most intimate of spaces, the “narrow” place above the Aron. By recognizing that the Tzimtzum was only ever a garment intended to be seen through, the aging soul discovers that the Hashem has never been further away than the edge of a sword, sustaining every breath from within.

In light of this, the act of prayer (Tefillah) becomes the ultimate bridge across the perceived distance of the meeting place from Our Parsha, transforming the heart into a personal Mishkan. According to the Nefesh HaChayim, prayer is not an attempt to reach a distant deity, but rather a process of piercing the obstruction of the physical world to reveal the Divine vitality that already sustains us. When we pray, we are essentially returning to that “narrow” meeting place above the Aron; we are declaring that despite the sixty cubits of worldly distraction or the physical limitations of old age, we choose to reside with Him on the edge of a sword. It is through this intimate dialogue that we fulfill the promise of “I will meet with you there,” proving that as long as the flame of the soul reaches out in prayer, the connection remains as immediate and powerful as it was at the very beginning of our journey.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)