From Building to Belonging: The True Purpose of Sacred Space - Based on my sermon from this past Friday night

It is hard to believe, but we have been using our sanctuary for fifteen years. Many of us were privileged to be part of the planning and building process of this holy space. Building a synagogue is a spiritual experience, from big-picture designs to deciding about fixtures and electric socket plates. However, creating the building is only part of the process and not even the most critical part. 

This past Shabbat, we completed the book of Exodus, Shemot. The last parshiot focused on the construction of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, the sacred space for the Israelites. It was a momentous accomplishment. The physical structure is complete. Every board is in place, every vessel polished, and every curtain woven according to divine command. And yet, something is still missing.

This week, the opening of the next book of the Torah, Vayikra, Leviticus, is a transition point—the moment when the Mishkan is no longer just a beautifully constructed space but a place of holiness, connection, and purpose. The goal was never the structure itself. The goal was what would happen within it—the service, the worship, the presence of God, and the gathering of the people to encounter the Divine.

This lesson speaks directly to us today. We build beautiful synagogues with grand sanctuaries, well-designed classrooms, and welcoming social halls. But the true sanctity of a synagogue does not come from its architecture—it comes from how we use it. It comes from the prayer that fills the sanctuary, the Torah studied in its rooms, and the acts of chesed, lovingkindness extending from its walls into the broader community.

The Mishnah in Pirkei Avot teaches:

"Al shlosha devarim ha’olam omed—on three things the world stands: on Torah, on avodah (service or worship), and gemilut chasadim (acts of kindness)." (Pirkei Avot 1:2)

The same is true for Midbar Kodesh Temple. Our synagogue stands not on bricks and mortar but on these three pillars. Without Torah, prayer, and kindness, MKT is just a building. But when we fill it with learning, with heartfelt tefillot, with acts of hesed, it becomes something far more significant—it becomes a Mishkan, a place where the Divine Presence can genuinely dwell.  The walls aren’t holy.  The bima isn’t sacred.  The ark isn’t sanctified.  What we do with these things is what makes them hallowed.   

The lesson for this Shabbat is that we must always move from construction to connection, from building to belonging. Physical space matters only to the extent that it enables us to fulfill our mission—to create a sacred community, to support one another, and to bring holiness into our world.

As we reflect on the instructions for ritual and worship in the Mishkan, this Shabbat lets us ask ourselves: How do we bring our Midbar Kodesh Temple to life? How do we ensure that our shul is not just a place where people come but where people truly feel at home? How do we take the structure we have built and fill it with meaning?

Shabbat Shalom

Rabbi Bradley Tecktiel