It must have been one of the most profoundly frustrating moments recorded in the Torah. We had all responded so very generously and were so dedicated to the mission. Indeed, the outpouring was so pervasive that the capital campaign for the mishkan was complete, and any further dedication of funds or materials was discouraged. The artisans completed their work in record time long before construction would be scheduled. Kilsev turns to Chesvan to Teves to Shevat to Adar and as Adar winds down construction starts. The anticipation was over the top and the added delays were puzzling. The forgiveness for the eigel was going to be memorialized forever by the mishkan and the destiny of that generation and its place in history was to be back on track.
All of this to see the mishkan, with its daily dedicatory avoda in place, unvisited and seemingly ignored by G-d and subsequently dismantled day by day. Seven days go by this way. All of the avoda and still no shechina. No sign that all of their outpouring and anticipation would yield anything but a severe joke to be repeated by generations with all of its dark teachings.
One pasuk (9:23) changes the trajectory: "ויבא משה ואהרן אל אהל מועד ויצאו ויברכו את העם וירא כבוד יהוה אל כל העם". Moshe and Aharon went inside of Ohel moed. They came out, blessed the people, and the presence of Hashem descended to the people. "And you will make for me a mikdash and I will dwell among you" finally happened. What turned the switch? What finally impressed the Ribbono Shel Olam to accept His own invitation? Why the wait? Rashi (9:23) quotes the backstory that Chazal have transmitted to us:
When Aaron perceived that they had offered all the korbonos and all the rites had been duly performed and nevertheless the Shechinah did not descend, [as the heavenly fire had not consumed the sacrifice] he was terribly upset and thought "The Almighty is angry with me and I am responsible for the Shechinah's absence." He said to Moshe: "My brother Moshe, That is what you do to me? Shame me? At once, Moshe entered with him and they asked for rachamim - compassion - and the Shechinah descended for Israel (Sifra, Shemini, Mechilta d'Miluim 2 18).
Should it not concern us that all of the remorse and all of the anticipation and the widespread generosity was all for naught, had they not prayed for compassion - for rachamim? Apparently, Hashem was waiting for that prayer to impress upon us that there is little we could do to actually deserve to have Hashem's presence close by; to merit the tangible evidence of His existence which in turn supports our faith consistently; to earn the ongoing expression of His interest in our relationship.
Truth be told, we say this every day just before the morning kriyas shema. "You have loved us with great love ... and have had excessive and enormous compassion for us... And you taught us the laws of life...." It is quite easy to imagine that giving us the Shabbos, the seder night, tefillin, the codes of kindness, the requirements of living with refined mannerisms and a balanced view of materialism, and vastly more, indicates Hashem's love for us. However, that it all indicates extreme compassion for us is harder to appreciate.
Yet the authors of the aforementioned beracha want us to ponder, each and every morning, a life devoid of the blessings of Hashem's unyielding discipline and routine, a life lacking His insistence on integrity, a life without Shabbos and without the confidence of the power of prayer. And this is but a nano-sample of our regal life. Indeed, were it not for the extreme rachmonus of the Almighty we could not dream of it all belonging to us. This is something that we should be pondering en route to kriyas shema.