The Temple in the Torah and Today

Parashat Re’eh, Deuteronomy 11:26–16:17

by Ben Volman, Kehillat Eytz Chaim, Toronto

As Israel stood listening to Moshe at the edge of the Promised Land, they were still a people whose greatest patriarchs had been nomads buried in a distant cave bought from strangers. So it’s unlikely they could have imagined a future temple of soaring dimensions to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob; an edifice to rival the storied palaces and temples of Pharaoh. Yet the kernel of that vision is embedded here in Devarim/Deuteronomy 12:10–12: 

When you cross the Yarden and live in the land Adonai your God is having you inherit, and he gives you rest from all your surrounding enemies, so that you are living in safety; then you will bring all that I am ordering you to the place Adonai your God chooses to have his name live—your burnt offerings, sacrifices, tenths, the offering from your hand, and all your best possessions that you dedicate to Adonai; and you will rejoice in the presence of Adonai.

Rashi suggests that these verses should be understood as an instruction to build the Jerusalem Temple, based on a parallel reference to the words indicating that Israel was “at rest” from its enemies under King David. He quotes 2 Samuel 7:1–2: “After the king had been living in his palace awhile and Adonai had given him rest from all his surrounding enemies, the king said to Natan the prophet, ‘Here, I’m living in a cedar-wood palace; but the ark of God is kept in a tent!’”  

Indeed, the ark had been stored in temporary circumstances for too long, since having been displaced from Shiloh. David had already shown the political foresight to establish his capital in Jerusalem and had every reason to turn his attention to building a new spiritual center for the kingdom. Ancient palaces of kings were often combined with adjoining temples. As we know, despite David’s heart and much of his wealth being dedicated to the vision of a temple, he wouldn’t live to see it built.

But even the brief points here in Deuteronomy lay out the primary impetus that spurred him and his son, Shlomo, to build the “House of the Lord.” While we’re inclined to view the temple primarily as a place for blood sacrifices, its true purpose is quite different and laid out clearly in 12:11: “the place Adonai your God chooses to have his name live.”   

This temple is, above all, a place where God’s people will encounter the divine presence. We see that purpose substantially in evidence during the dedication of Shlomo’s Temple: a “cloud,” which once signified the Presence of the Lord that led Israel by day through the desert, reappears with new significance: 

 When the cohanim came out of the Holy Place, the cloud filled the house of Adonai, so that, because of the cloud, the cohanim could not stand up to perform their service; for the glory of Adonai filled the house of Adonai. (1 Kings 8:10–11) 

As the psalmists often confirm, it is the Lord’s presence that draws Israel to worship at the Temple:

Go up, Adonai, to your resting-place,

you and the ark through which you give strength.

May your cohanim be clothed with righteousness;

may those loyal to you shout for joy. (Psa 132:8–9) 

The presence of the Temple in the place “he chooses” (the point in Deuteronomy 12:11 is repeated emphatically in vv. 13 and 14) acts as a further sign confirming God’s unique covenantal relationship to the whole nation of Israel and the election of his people, whom he has brought up from bondage. This role of the Temple is explicitly envisioned in the Torah even earlier than Deuteronomy. At the very moment when the people celebrate their escape from the hand of Pharaoh and his army, the Song of Moshe declares:  

You will bring them in and plant them

on the mountain which is your heritage,

the place, Adonai, that you made your abode,

the sanctuary, Adonai, which your hands established. (Exod 15:17)

Israel will experience the Temple as a source of blessing for the nation (Hag 2:15ff.) and yet it’s also to be a source of spiritual hope for the foreigner (who also receives attention in this parasha, since we were once foreigners in Egypt—see Deut 10: 19). Thus, in his prayer of dedication, Shlomo declared that the Temple would be a place for the nations to turn to when they seek the Lord (1 Kings 8:41–43), a vision further foreseen in Isaiah’s prophecy of a future when the Temple will be “a house of prayer for all peoples” (Isa 56:7). 

Finally, of course, it is a place for sacrifice, for personal consecration, and to draw in the nation for the pilgrimage holy days in the spring and fall: “your burnt offerings, sacrifices, tenths, the offering from your hand, and all your best possessions that you dedicate to Adonai; and you will rejoice in the presence of Adonai” (Deut 12:12a). Nor is the Temple to be restricted to the elite, the wealthy, or the mature. Worshipers are commanded to include “your sons and daughters, your male and female slaves and the Levi staying with you, inasmuch as he has no share or inheritance with you” (Deut 12:12b). 

All these visions that were fulfilled on a site where Israel worshiped for a thousand years now seem to lie shattered under the massive stone remains of Herod’s Temple. Many of us have walked among these ruins not far from the Western Wall, under the Al Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock. These tactile reminders of Yeshua’s prophetic warning, “not one stone will be left standing” (Matt 24:2; Mark 13:2; Luke 21:6) have often been seen in Christianity and Islam as a rebuke to Israel, the end of her covenant relationship with God.  

But the restoration of Jerusalem as a Jewish city in 1967, also foretold by Yeshua (Luke 21:24), requires equal attention. The reclaiming of the Old City and the Kotel, Israel’s holiest site for worship, had international repercussions—the so-called “Jerusalem effect” which not only empowered Jewish identity for a generation, but has been directly linked to the rebirth of modern Messianic Judaism.  

After spending precious time in prayer at the Kotel, I can attest, perhaps like many of you, to having experienced a profound sense of God’s presence. And I can’t help reliving the various sensations of my visits there: the humbling aura from those towering, massive stone walls that seem to embrace our prayers captured in the tiny notes crammed between the stones; the endless variety of visitors from around the globe; the prodding recollection that we have a generational duty to rebuild the Beit HaMikdash; the ascending flocks of swallows nesting in those ancient walls, a reminder that we are only a brief moment among all the generations since the original vision laid before Israel on the plains of Mo’av. And yet that kernel of a vision for “the place Adonai your God chooses to have his name live” is still shaping Jewish history, my history and yours.

 All Scripture citations are from the Complete Jewish Bible (CJB).