The Palace Visitor
Jack had been wandering aimlessly through the capital city when he saw it: a palace so grand, it made you instinctively want to straighten your coat and brush your hair.
Curious, and entirely unbothered by the prospect of trespassing, Jack approached the nearest guard, standing very still in front of the entrance, as if he was part of the architecture.
"What is this place?" Jack asked, waving a hand toward the maze of marble and minarets.
The guard puffed his chest out. “This, sir,” he announced, with the air of a man unveiling the lost city of Atlantis, “is the king’s palace!”
Jack blinked. “Well, that’s something,” he muttered to himself. Without missing a beat, he stepped into the palace complex as if it was just another day at the office.
Jack strolled down winding paths, across bridges that looked like they had been borrowed from a fairy tale, and through gardens so elegant they made a man feel lazy just looking at them. The buildings around him grew grander by the second—each one appearing more lavish than the last, as if the architects were competing to outdo one another.
“And what are these?” Jack asked, gesturing to a series of particularly ostentatious structures.
The guard, now in the role of a docent, explained patiently, “Those belong to various ministers of the king.”
They continued walking. Jack was getting more and more impressed, until he arrived at a building that practically screamed “royalty.” Marble columns gleamed like they had been polished by a thousand eager servants, and gold trim twisted and turned like a vine on a mission.
Jack’s voice dropped a notch. “And what, pray tell, is this building?”
The guard now puffed out his chest even further. "Ah! This, my good sir, is the king’s palace!"
Jack blinked. He looked at the guard. “I’m sorry—didn’t you just say that the entire complex is the king’s palace?”
"Indeed! And what a fine palace it is!" the guard said, with obvious pride.
Jack hesitated. “And yet,” he said slowly, pointing at the gleaming edifice before them, “this is also the palace?”
The guard beamed. "Precisely!"
Jack rubbed his temples. “So, it’s a palace within a palace?”
"Exactly! The inner palace." The guard smiled, like a teacher pleased with a student who finally grasped a difficult concept. "The heart of the royal residence. The king’s personal domain. Only he resides here."
Jack let this sink in. “Right. And the ministers and servants?”
“They may only enter when called,” the guard explained. Lowering his voice, he added, “And only if they are dressed appropriately.”
Jack glanced down at his dusty shoes and rumpled coat. He looked back at the royal palace.
“Well,” he sighed, “I suppose I’ll just have to wait for my invitation.” And with that, he tipped an imaginary hat, turned on his heel, and strolled off.
The Palace of the King
The entire universe, Isaiah writes, is full of God's glory. The heavens are His throne, and the earth is His footstool (6:3, 66:1). But if God’s Presence fills the entire universe, why did He ask for a sanctuary? Surely, if God is everywhere, then no single place could belong to Him in a way that is not already reflected in the world at large.
The story of the palace visitor provides an answer. Yes, the universe is God’s—from the furthest star to the smallest grain of sand. But the Beit HaMikdash—the Holy Temple—is different. It is not just any place; it is God’s inner palace, a sanctuary where His Presence dwells in a manner unlike any other.
Not everyone is invited to enter this inner sanctum. Only those chosen to serve Him—the kohanim—are allowed in. And even they must attired in garments befitting the sanctity of the Temple, garments suitable for their holy service. Entering into the presence of the Divine requires spiritual and mental preparation, an awareness of the unparalleled holiness that fills his sacred space.
(Adapted from Meshalim Vegam Sipurim, p. 66)
