On the Beginning of Wellness

On the Beginning of Wellness
by Jake Sheff, M.D.

Editor’s Note: This was originally delivered by the author on March 13, 2026, as the D’var Torah at the Congregation Neveh Shalom Men’s Club Shabbat in Portland, OR.

In this week’s Torah portion, Vayak’hel-Pekudai, we read about Moses gathering the Israelites in the desert to build the tabernacle. ‘Vayak’hel’ means “and he gathered,” referring to Moses, while ‘pekudai’ means “accountings of,” as in keeping track of what and how much was used in the building process.

Before the Israelites commence with building a holy space, the tabernacle (or mishkan), they are reminded by Moses to keep the Sabbath; that is, to carve out a holy time. In my reading these past several months, I came across a proverb, “G-d makes, man shapes.” Unfortunately, the source is harder for me to recall than the remark is, but this Parashat reminded me of it. In G-d’s creation, the Israelites are instructed to make room for holiness in both time and space.

After reminding them to keep the Sabbath, Moses requests a “freewill offering”—it can be of material or labor—from every Israelite “whose heart is so moved” to build the Tabernacle and for all its service and for the sacral vestments. The Parashat continues: “And everyone who excelled in ability and everyone whose spirit was moved came…men and women, all whose hearts moved them.” Some of the Israelites get swept up in this call to give, the spirit of giving carries them away and they bring more than is necessary. The people assigned with accepting those freewill offerings tell Moses that “the people are bringing more than is needed.” They are being so overly generous that they need to be commanded by Moses to stop giving.

While admirable, this is not what G-d wants. Even in serving Him—of all things—we can go too far.

This is probably why we need G-d to command us to keep Shabbat. (See the Fourth Commandment.) We have a tendency, when something seems good, to go too far in doing it. In this story, G-d is the check of checks and the balance of balances; we need both checks and balances for good self-government as much as we do for a good national government. It’s a tendency in many people’s natures to go beyond what’s needed and what’s appropriate if left unchecked, especially when it seems for goodness’ sake.

In my clinical practice—I’m a pediatrician—I often tell parents that milk is a good example of where kids can get too much of a good thing. While being an excellent source of calcium and protein, it tends to be constipating after 20-ounces is consumed in a day, and if this is done too regularly, that can lead to iron deficiency and anemia. So, it’s possible to get too much of a good thing—we know that, and this Parashat’s a good reminder.

Okay, so up until now, we see man needs to build a holy space for G-d within His creation, and man apparently needs to be reminded to keep some time—namely, Shabbat—holy in the process. Maybe our tendency to take things too far often leads to us losing sight of other good things, Shabbat being just one example.

Space and time are two aspects of reality. Another would be what’s found within each of us, that thing that only you can see and hear right now which is reacting to what I say and is partly influenced by you. You can name it your soul, your mind, your feelings, your thoughts; it’s the thing that’s considering and judging what I’m saying—if you don’t have that, talk to your doctor or rabbi. I’m not sure a psychologist would do you much good.

If we can make a holy space in the external world and a holy time, it stands to reason that we could even make a holy space in that internal world we each possess as well. Maybe it even stands to reason that we should. That too is a part of this space-time continuum (what G-d makes) which includes both Shabbat and the tabernacle (what man shapes). While not directly stated in this parsha, I believe it’s implied, and that, with the aid of our G-d-given reason (yet another faculty of that mental landscape), we can each infer that indeed we should make a holy space within.

But before we consider doing that, making a holy space within, what else have we learned from this parsha? That we can go too far in doing anything, even what seems an obviously good thing—that we might give more than necessary, like the Israelites, or fail to obey another command—to lose sight of it—in the process if we’re not careful.

To show how potentially harmful this tendency of going too far is, I think it’s okay to point out that the idea is inherent in the word ‘extremism.’

I will also add that G-d seems to already make that space within. In Ecclesiastes 3:11, we read that G-d has “put eternity in man’s heart.” Other versions say, “in man’s mind.” Eternity is not, of course, mundane; eternity is holy. So maybe we only need to recognize that the space is G-d’s.

Now let’s consider another alternative: what if we don’t do that? What if we don’t recognize a space as being for the holy within us? Well, this brings another proverbial line to my mind: “Nature abhors a vacuum.”

It’s not hard to imagine that vacuum—the vacancy unfilled by holiness—being filled by something else, say, a social media influencer, exercise, a buzzword, philosophy, a Ted Talk, Bob Dylan, a political party, science, current events, AI, a quack prophet, you name it. Perhaps G-d’s creation itself—nature, the environment—can fill that space. We all know how an untended garden is quickly taken back by nature, overrun by weeds and wild animals as the walls around it go to ruin.

In this parsha, man is instructed to make a site holy within creation; if one makes all of creation holy, if everything in it is deemed holy, then nothing is, because you can’t have the sacred without the profane, you can’t have time without eternity, and you can’t have the sweet without the bitter. We simply live in a world of opposites. “A friend to all is a friend to none”—it’s the same problem, whether we like it or not.

And if that happens—if a space intended for holiness is filled by something in lieu of G-d—and then we go too far in the name of that thing, how might that look? Well, the idea of going too far already implies a transgression, a wrong.

At the end of the parsha, recall that G-d is visibly present as a cloud over the tabernacle by day, and as a cloud filled with fire by night. G-d is the cause of so much hope and fear in the Israelites.

A 2^nd century Greek satirist named Lucian says that “hope and fear…tyrannize every man’s life.” He adds that “anyone able to make use of either for his own good could become rich overnight.” He further says that what both the fearful and the hopeful need and want the most is knowledge of the future. Some have interpreted that verse I quoted earlier from Ecclesiastes as meaning that man longs to know eternity so that he can know the date of future events.

When we’re manipulated, we give more of ourselves to something than is appropriate. More money, more time, more attention, more energy. Unlike G-d in this parsha, no substitute for Him will tell you when you’ve given enough and command you to stop.

When you lose control of your property, you lose freedom. And that ties in nicely with our other Parashat today: Parashat Hachodesh. This is the Shabbat before the first of Nissan, which is the month of Passover. In it, we read the instructions for that holiday as they were given to the Israelites in Exodus.

I have always agreed with the English writer Dr. Samuel Johnson, who says that men more often need reminders than they do instructions. Since I first read that, I felt that it explained the presence of so many holidays and rituals in both our religious and secular cultures. They serve as mnemonic devices, frankly, and Passover makes no secret about what it wishes to keep us from forgetting: that slavery is bitter, liberty sweet, and it’s the latter which G-d wants for all people.

It’s easy to forget because it’s so obvious and too familiar. Consider that the first book of the Torah is about the creation of man and the world and G-d’s disappointment in man’s unethical behavior, while the next four are about G-d freeing men from bondage, both within and without.

I believe we become a slave to our smartphones when we give them more of our time and attention than they’re really deserving of, and that if the holy space within is given to anything but G-d, we run the risk of becoming a slave to that thing. The smartphone might be a good external analogue of the holy space within when it’s been filled by something other than G-d. It, like every other G-d-substitute, will never tell us when we’ve given enough. It will always ask for more. Furthermore, I believe that the beginning of wellness is making a dwelling place for the holy presence in one’s inner wilderness, because a slave to anything, even one in perfect health, is never well.