The Case of the Sneaky Contractor
Jacob, tired of his cramped little apartment, decides to build himself a new home. He hires a contractor, a man with an eye for detail. They agree on the basics: price, schedule, and what the house should look like. All set.
The contractor gets busy. Materials are ordered, everything’s ready to go. But just as he’s about to start the actual building, an idea strikes him.
“Wait a minute,” he thinks, “Do I actually have to build the house? I mean, the manual didn’t say build, it said supply the materials. And look at this! All the materials are here. The tiles, the windows, the wood—check, check, check. Job done!”
So he strolls up to Jacob, points out the organized piles of drywall, tiles, and door handles on the ground, and says, “There you go! I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal. All the materials are here. Feel free to begin assembly at your convenience.”
Jacob, understandably, flips his lid. “Fool! You promised to build a house, not just dump piles of materials on my lawn! I didn’t hire you to be a glorified delivery service!”
“You may have provided everything listed in the manual,” Jacob continues, “but what about our original agreement—when you promised to build a house?”
Jeremiah and the Temple Service
The prophet Jeremiah made a startling claim: “I did not speak with your forefathers nor did I command them on the day I brought them out of the land of Egypt concerning burnt offerings and sacrifices” (7:22).
A puzzling statement, to say the least. Leviticus is packed with instructions on sacrifices, offerings, and Temple rituals. Wasn’t the whole point of the Exodus—to leave Egypt and worship God? So how could Jeremiah say this?
The Contract from Egypt
When the Israelites were in Egypt, God didn’t go into the fine print. God's command was simple: “When you take the people out of Egypt, you will serve God on this mountain.”
That was the contract in its purest form—no specifics, no detailed instructions, just a commitment to serve God.
Then came Sinai. A mountain of detail. God gave Moses the Torah, including a comprehensive guide to Divine service—the offerings, altars, and priestly robes, everything down to the smallest stitch. The Jewish people went from a general call to a highly detailed blueprint.
But here’s the catch: If you follow all the details—the rituals, the rites—and forget the purpose behind them, you’re like that contractor who delivered all the materials but never actually built the house. You’re checking off boxes but missing the whole point of the original contract: to construct something meaningful, to create a life of holiness and integrity.
That is the heart of Jeremiah’s message. The rituals matter, but they are not the goal. God doesn’t want us getting lost in the mechanics of burnt offerings. He wants our hearts. He wants our service—not just in the Temple, but in every aspect of life. In our business dealings. In how we treat workers. In how we speak to family and friends.
Service to God isn’t confined to the Temple; it’s reflected in how we live our lives.
And that is precisely what Jeremiah told the people: “I did not speak with your forefathers nor did I command them on the day I brought them out of the land of Egypt concerning burnt offerings and sacrifices. But this is what I commanded them: Obey Me, so that I am your God and you are My people.”
(Adapted from Mishlei Yaakov, pp. 189-190)
