The Gift of Tzara'at, on Yom Ha'atzmaut

By Rabbi Reuven Spolter, Director of Recruiting and Special Projects
What's the worst gift that you've ever received? When I got married, my wife and I received a plastic platter in the shape of a fish. We found it both strange and rather ugly. So we kept it. Each of us has a gift like that. I'm sure we've all gotten pretty bad gifts. But in each case, at least someone tried to give you something nice – even though it turned out to be a miserable failure. But what if your neighbor "gave" you the flu – on purpose? Would you consider it a "gift"?
Parshat Metzora relates the very unusual appearance of nigei batim, blemishes that appear on the walls of one's home. The Torah describes the procedure requiring the removal of the tzara'at in order to purify the home. Yet, the language describing this particular tzara'at raises an important question. In other cases of tzara'at, the Torah describes the affliction in neutral language: אדם כי יהיה בעור בשרו שאת – "if a person has in his skin a blemish…" The Torah doesn’t make any judgments about the wound. It's there. How should he act? But when describing tzara'at of the home the Torah says,

כי תבאו אל ארץ כנען אשר אני נותן לכם אחזה, ונתתי נגע צרעת בבית ארץ אחזתכם

When you come into the land of Canaan, which I give to you for a possession, and I put the plague of leprosy in a house of the land of your possession.

The word ונתתי doesn't really mean "and I put." It means "and I give," which leads us to wonder, what type of gift is tzara'at on one's home? I can think of many things I'd rather have instead of having to knock down parts of my home. Why then does the Torah use the verb לתת – "to give" when describing tzara'at of the home?
Rashi gives the famous answer that the Emorites hid money in the walls of their homes before the Jews conquered the land. So, when Jews moved into their homes, the homes broke out with hives, so that when the people knocked down the walls they found the money.
But the Yalkut Meam Loez (Vayikra page 153) answers the question in a way that can give us new appreciation for the trials and tribulations that we have experienced this past year in the Land of Israel.
When they originally built their homes, the Emorites dedicated their construction to their idol of choice, thus infusing these homes and buildings with a רוח טומאה – a spirit of impurity which would defile anything that dwelled in those homes. Because Hashem wished to give us the Land and that His presence should dwell in it, He did not wish for his Shechinah to dwell in a place of Tum'ah. For this reason, he sent blemishes in the walls of the homes containing the defilement, so that the people could remove them and purify their new homes, themselves, and their new Land.
Meam Loez asks us to see trials and tribulations from a new perspective. Although difficult to appreciate, sometimes destruction is actually constructive. If we succeed in removing the spirit of Tum'ah, and replace it with a sprit of purity, then the tzara'at was indeed a gift, even if it didn't seem so at first.
This week we'll celebrate the 61st anniversary of the great gift from Hashem that is the State of Israel. Like tzara'at habayit, sometimes we might feel tempted to look at the difficulties and struggles that Israel must deal with and think, "Some gift. Who needs all these troubles?" Why did we have to add more names to the list of the fallen during the past year? Why must we keep fighting wars to defend our right to live in our God-given Land?
But when we place these struggles in context and see the tremendous growth, bounty and blessing that is the State to not only the Jewish people, but to the world, we realize that we have a lot to be grateful for.
And one day we will also realizes that even the blemishes – which we commemorate on Yom Hazikaron before we celebrate Yom Ha'atzmaut – were a necessary part of the process that brings about the needed purification of Eretz Yisrael.

“Beyond the Teachers’ Room” – A Social Network for Jewish Educators in Training

“Beyond the Teachers’ Room” is a trusted and trusting on-line cohort group of educators facilitated by Dr. Keren Goldfrad of the English department at Orot Israel College, and Dr. Karen Shawn of Yeshiva University’s Azrieli Graduate School of Jewish Education and Administration. This social network is designed for educators in training or pursuing advanced degrees to discuss ideas, thoughts, and feelings about specific aspects of daily school life; to explore the connections between Jewish texts and our teaching; and to share the challenges and rewards that Jewish educators experience as we take on the task of speaking to the hearts and minds of the 21st century student.

This social network, which was a required on-line component in two independent blended academic courses, provided a unique opportunity that extended far beyond the conventional learning experience. This international collaboration offered global perspectives on education in cross-cultural environments. Technology facilitated this process by offering a comfortable platform for a fruitful exchange of ideas. Students created a caring and trusted on-line community of practice with multiple colleagues in different educational settings whose task was to listen, support, and respond by offering validation, different and diverse points of view and ways of thinking, and help in brainstorming solutions to another’s questions or dilemmas. Our hope is that students' learning experience and practice will be improved, enhanced, and/or enriched by their active involvement in this community.

To Lean or Not to Lean?

Leaning During the Seder
by Rabbi Reuven Spolter, Director of Student Recruitment and Special Projects
Click here for a downloadable pdf version of this devar Torah.

While the night of the certainly presents a wonderful educational and historical experience, many of us find some aspects of the Seder rather challenging. The Seder begins late, especially outside of Israel. We engage in lengthy discussions, long before we get to the food. Matzah and Marror aren't the easiest foods to consume, especially in the large Seder-night quantities. To me though, the most challenging aspect of the Seder is the issue of leaning. As we eat or drink during any meaningful portion of the Seder, we lean to the left and eat in an awkward, unusual position. Why do we do it? We lean to symbolize our freedom, of course. Funny though. When I lean during the Seder I feel anything but free.

Some Halachic and Historical Background
We can trace the requirement to lean during the Seder all the way back to the times of the Mishnah, which clearly assumes a requirement to lean. The Mishnah (Pesach 99b) states, אפילו עני שבישראל לא יאכל עד שיסב – "even the impoverished in Israel may not eat until he leans." The Gemara accepts the ruling of the Mishnah unconditionally, adding that one must not only lean during while eating matzah, but also as one drinks the four glasses of wine. Why must we lean? Rashi explains that we lean "in the manner of free people, as a reminder of our freedom, with a bed adjacent to a table."
Thank goodness for Wikipedia. How else would I have been able to easily learn about table habits during the Roman Empire? How did people eat their meals in the Roman era? Actually, it depended on who you were – which is precisely the point.

The dinner was consumed in a special dining room, which later was to be called triclinium. Here one would lie down on a specially designed couch, the lectus triclinaris. Around the round table, the mensa, three of these lecti were arranged in the shape of a horseshoe, so that slaves could easily serve, and a maximum of three diners would recline at each lectus. During the kingdom and early republic, the only people allowed a place on a lectus were men. By the late republic and imperial times, and especially among the aristocracy, women were permitted to recline during meals. Traditionally, women would dine sitting upright across from their husbands or fathers in chairs. More tables for the beverages stood beside the couches. All heads were oriented towards the central table, with left elbows propped on a cushion and feet at the outside of the dinner-couch. In this fashion at most nine people could dine together at one table. Further guests had to sit on chairs. Slaves normally had to stand.

On Pesach night, we're all the masters. There are no slaves standing around to serve, nor regular guests. In order to fully appreciate the level of freedom that we achieved on Pesach night, we each must recline on our own lectus triclinaris. No one dines upright on the Seder night because for at least this one night, we're all princes – or emperors.
There's only one problem with this halachic ruling: while the history of Roman dining is really fascinating, no one today – from the President of the United States to the Queen of England to the Prime Minister of Micronesia dines on couches, recliners, beds or especially lectus triclinaris. (or is that lecti triclinari?) So why must I recline in a manner that while certainly significant two thousand years ago has no meaning today?
This is not a new question, and was posed by no less than the Ra'avyah (Rav Eliezer the son of Yoel HaLevi, a member of the Tosafists, lived in Germany from 1140 until 1225), who noted that even by his time people had long since stopped leaning on couches. For this reason, he and his disciples, including the Avi Ezri quoted in the Tur (Orach Chayyim 472:2) wrote that, "nowadays, as we are not accustomed in our land to lean, one sits in the normal manner and is not required to lean." After all, logic dictates that if we lean to demonstrate our feelings of freedom, we should display that freedom based on the customs of our time, and not on ancient Roman practice.
Yet, while Ra'avyah's ruling did carry significant halachic weight (as we shall soon see), major halachic authorities never adopted his position. In fact, R' Yosef Karo writes in the Beit Yosef that, "[Ra'avyah's] is an individual [opinion] in this matter; meaning that the position of all the poskim is that one must always lean even nowadays." He expresses his position clearly in the Shulchan Aruch writing not only how to lean (on the left, preferably against something like an arm of a chair, a pillow, or the person sitting next to you), but also that one who fails to lean has not fulfilled his obligation to eat of drink and must repeat the consumption in the proper position. (472:7) (Rama, following Ashkenazic tradition argues that in a case of bedieved, one can rely on the position of Ra'avyah and need not eat or drink a second time.)

What about the Women?
Shulchan Aruch writes that "A woman is not required to lean unless she is significant (חשובה)." So, as Orot President Rav Neria Gutel explained, it's up to the woman: if she considers herself an אשה חשובה, then she should lean. If not, then at least according to Sephardic custom she need not lean. Rama argues on two critical counts:
a. All of our (read here: Ashkenazi) women are נשים חשובים.
b. Still, none of our very important, significant, honored and cherished women lean during the Seder. Why not? It must be because they relied on the ruling of the Ra'avyah.

Bottom Line and How Do I Do It?
As important as the Ra'avyah's position is, the bottom line is that everyone – men and women – must lean during the Seder. Unless someone suffers from a medical condition that would preclude them from leaning comfortably, halachah considers leaning an integral aspect of the Seder experience. Sorry.
There's still the question of how. What's the best and most proper way to lean? Ideally, get yourself a lectus triclinaris – or at least a chaise lounge. Place it next to the table, spend the night leaning to the left, eating grapes and living like a king. Barring that, one must lean to the left on something and not in the air, and lean the entire body and not just the head. I'd like to also add the suggestion of Rabbi Eliezer Melamed (the Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Har Brachah) writes in his book Peninei Halachah on Pesach (page 226):

Instead of sitting straight upright against the back of the chair, one should pull his rear-end forward to the center of the chair, such that he is able to lean his back on the backing of the chair and lean himself towards the left.

In other words, nowadays the best way to lean on Pesach night is to…slump. What better symbol of freedom could there ever be? Throughout our childhood, our mothers told us to sit up straight and not slump in our chairs. On this night we slump!
Finally, on this night, we are free to practice bad posture. Just make sure that you've got the number of a chiropractor handy. And have a wonderful, happy and Kosher Pesach!

The Missing Piece - Devar Torah for Vayakhel-Pekudei 5769

Thoughts on the Kohen Gadol and Gilad Schalit by Rabbi Reuven Spolter, Director of Recruiting and Special Projects

Here in Israel, the government and public finds itself caught in the gut-wrenching debate over just how far to go to secure the release of captured soldier Cpl. Gilad Schalit. The two sides of the argument present clear but compelling contrasting arguments. On one side sit Gilad's family; his parents and brother, literally camping in a tent outside the Prime Minister's office hoping to compel the government to reach an agreement with Hamas and secure Gilad's release. On the other side sit the families of terror victims who, despite their sympathy for the Schalit family, feel that the price to be paid for Gilad's release is simply too high, and that bartering his life for the freedom of hundreds of terrorists and criminals will only further endanger the people of Israel.
They both right. It's a terrible decision to have to make, and it only makes me yearn for the days when we didn't have to make such decisions ourselves. Once upon a time Hashem Himself would answer these impossible questions for us – through the garments of the Kohen Gadol.
Among the different garments of the Kohen Gadol for his service in the Mishkah, he wore the Choshen – a breastplate. We all know what it looked like: four rows of three different types of stones. On these stones Bezalel carves the names of the tribes of Israel. But the Choshen carried an addition, critical element. Hashem instructs Moshe,

וְנָתַתָּ אֶל-חשֶׁן הַמִּשְׁפָּט אֶת-הָאוּרִים וְאֶת-הַתֻּמִּים וְהָיוּ עַל-לֵב אַהֲרֹן בְּבֹאוֹ לִפְנֵי ה' וְנָשָׂא אַהֲרֹן אֶת-מִשְׁפַּט בְּנֵי-יִשְׂרָאֵל עַל-לִבּוֹ לִפְנֵי ה' תָּמִיד:

And you shall place to the Choshen the Urim and the Tumim, and they shall be on the heart of Aharon when he enters before Hashem; and Aharon shall carry the judgment of the Children of Israel on his heart before Hashem always.

The famous Urim V'tumim raises all kinds of questions. First and foremost, what exactly was it? What does the Torah mean by telling us that through it Aharon would carry the "judgment" of the Jewish people on his heart? Finally, when we look at Parshat Pekudei and the final construction of the Choshen we learn that while Bezalel and his workers followed Moshe's instructions to a tee, they seem to have omitted one critical detail: there's no mention of the Urim V'tumim at all. (see Shemot 39:8-21) The stones were there. They weaved the garment properly. But where was the Urim V'tumim so seemingly critical to its proper function?
What was the Urim V'Tumim? Rashi (on Shemot 28:30) tells us:

הוא כתב שם המפורש, שהיה נותנו בתוך כפלי החשן, שעל ידו הוא מאיר דבריו ומתמם את דבריו. ובמקדש שני היה החשן, שאי אפשר לכהן גדול להיות מחוסר בגדים, אבל אותו השם לא היה בתוכו, ועל שם אותו הכתב הוא קרוי משפט...

This is a writing of the Holy Name which [Moshe] placed in the folds of the Choshen, through which it would light up (from Urim) his words and purify (from Tumim) his words. In the Second Temple there was a Choshen – for the Cohen Gadol could not serve with [the proper number of] garments. But that Name was not inside it, and through that name it was called "Mishpat"…

Rashi explains that the while the Urim V'tumim served as the spiritual "battery" of the Choshen, it was not a critical aspect of its construction. Perhaps this explains why the Torah considers the Choshen complete even without the Urim V'Tumin. Ramban, agreeing with Rashi adds that,

הם סוד מסור למשה מפי הגבורה, והוא כתבם בקדושה, או היו מעשה שמים

They were a secret given to Moshe from the mouth of Hashem, and [Moshe] wrote them in Holiness, or they were a creation of heaven.

Ramban points out that Moshe himself eventually placed the Urim V'Tumim inside the Choshen when he dressed Aharon for service in the Mishkan. (see Vayikra 8:8) So, while the Urim V'Tumim were not considered part of the Choshen itself, Moshe placed this mystical scroll (or whatever "they" were) crafted by Hashem Himself into the Choshen later on. What was did Aharon use it for? Why was it so important? Rashi explains:

דבר שהם נשפטים ונוכחים על ידו אם לעשות דבר או לא לעשות.

A matter that they would judge and decide based on [the Urim V'Tumim] whether to do something or not.

The Jewish people used the Urim V'Tumim to ask the impossible questions that no one person could legitimately answer himself. Should we go to war now or not? Whose sin caused the terrible suffering among the Jewish people? Is now the time to conquer new territory or remain on the sidelines? Is it better to trade terrorists for Gilad Schalit or suffer the painful price of refusing to negotiate?

Except today, we live without a direct connection. No Urim V'Tumim lights up the way. So we stumble along, groping around in the darkness, hoping that we don't make the wrong decision. All the while we must continue to pray not only for our country and her leaders, forced to make these difficult decisions, but also that Hashem bring a level of comfort and well-being to Gilad, held captive now for over one thousand days.

A Letter from Judy Ford

Dear Girls, (to me you will always be girls!)

By now most of you are mothers and some of you may even be grandmothers. Many of you may even have teenage daughters just like you were when you were at Orot. Time does not stand still and we have all grown older. I see some students from time to time and I am amazed that they recognize me, I don’t always recognize the generally because of the scarves or hat that they are wearing.

I must tell you that some of my most special memories are of the Shabbatot and tiyulim that I spent with you and Sapir. I can still remember the untidy rooms and my attempts to get you to tidy them up. I am sure those of you with teenagers have the same up hill battle every day.

My husband and I still live in the same apartment in Petach Tikva. All our children are married, BH we have many grandchildren and several great grandchildren.
You can find me on face book and if you want you can send me an e-mail from time to time. My address is ford17@013.net.il I will be happy to hear all about your lives since the last time me meet.

This photo of my husband and myself was taken at our granddaughter’s wedding on the 1st January this year. My granddaughter is 19 and just finished Sherut Leumi.

My regards to you all, Purim Sameach and Pesach Kasher Ve'Sameach.

Judy

Knock Knock. Table Talk for Tetzaveh 5769

By Rabbi Reuven Spolter, Director of Recruitment and Special Projects, Orot College of Education

To download a printable version of this Devar Torah, click here.

My son, who attends a weekly chug that concentrates on logic and thinking games, came home with the following brain-teaser:

A certain thief was terrorizing a neighborhood. Yet, despite repeated attempts to catch the thief, he always managed to elude them. One day he heard the police knocking on his front door. He quickly jumped out the window and checked himself into the most upscale hotel in town, where he went back to work. Again our thief, a master of disguise, avoided hotel security and soon terrorized most of wealthiest hotel guests. Before long, the wealthy clientele, tired to being robbed blind, began to leave the hotel.
One woman, Mrs. Thompson, refused to leave. "I am not afraid of thieves," she said, remaining at the hotel. One morning she heard a knock at her door, and when she answered, a well-dressed businessman stood in the threshold. "Oh, so sorry," he told her, "I thought this was my room."
As soon as he closed the door, Mrs. Thompson called hotel security. "The thief," she said, "just came to my door. He's riding the elevator down to the lobby as we speak."
Security caught the man and after a short interrogation, he confessed to his crimes. The hotel manager, relieved to finally catch the thief, visited Mrs. Thompson in her room with a token of appreciation from the hotel for her quick thinking.
"I have to ask you," he said to her, "how did you know that he was the thief?"

How did she know? And more importantly for our purposes, if the people in our story followed parshat hashavua (and specifically Parshat Tetzaveh), she would never have known. Why not?

Among the eight vestments (that's a fancy word for clothes) that the Kohen Gadol wore during his avodah in the Mishkan, the me'il – the coat of blue, served at least two distinct purposes. First and foremost, the techelet of the coat contrasted the Kohen Gadol from the distinct white garments of the other kohanim. But the coat had an auditory feature as well. The Torah tells us:

וּפַעֲמֹנֵי זָהָב בְּתוֹכָם, סָבִיב. פַּעֲמֹן זָהָב וְרִמּוֹן, פַּעֲמֹן זָהָב וְרִמּוֹן, עַל-שׁוּלֵי הַמְּעִיל, סָבִיב. וְהָיָה עַל-אַהֲרֹן, לְשָׁרֵת; וְנִשְׁמַע קוֹלוֹ בְּבֹאוֹ אֶל-הַקֹּדֶשׁ לִפְנֵי ה' וּבְצֵאתוֹ--וְלֹא יָמוּת).שמות לב:לג-לה)

And bells of gold between them round about: a golden bell and a pomegranate, a golden bell and a pomegranate, upon the skirts of the robe round about. And it shall be upon Aaron to minister; and the sound shall be heard when he goes into the holy place before Hashem, and when he comes out, that he die not.

Why did the coat have bells? Why were the bells so important that their sound prevented the death of the Kohen Gadol? Commentators offer different explanations.
Rashi interprets the "lifesaving" quality not on the me'il, but on all of the bigdei kehunah. Indeed, a Kohen may not serve in the Beit Hamikdash missing any of the bigdei kehunah under the threat of the death penalty. (And you thought that the dress code at your place of work was harsh.) Yet, most commentators apply the threat specifically to the sounds of the me'il.
Rashbam explains that on Yom Kippur, the Kohen Gadol had to be the only person in the Beit Hamikdash during the avodah. The bells on the lip of his coat would warn any kohanim present of the approaching Kohen Gadol, giving them sufficient time to stay away. Thus, the bells served as a kind of protective warning system to keep danger at bay. Ibn Ezra suggests that the chimes of the bells formed a part of the Kohen Gadol's prayer, providing a "background" music track to augment his personal tefillah to Hashem. Chizkuni raises the possibility that the bells alerted those around him to the presence of the Kohen Gadol, not as a warning, but to allow them to know when he performed the service in the Beit Hamikdash, so that they could focus together with him. Rashbam also allows that the bells served simply as another way to distinguish between the Kohen Gadol and the other kohanim.
Each of these explanations gives us a different understanding of the purpose of the bells. But the gemara in Pesachim (112a) provides a different interpretation that offers a practical lesson for each of us that we can and should implement in our daily lives. The Gemara lists seven lessons that Rabbi Akiva taught his son, Rabbi Yehushua. Among them,

ואל תכנס לביתך פתאום, כל שכן לבית חבירך

And you should not suddenly enter you own home, and certainly your friend's home.

Why not? Rashbam explains,

השמע את קולך להם דילמא עבדי מילתא דצניעותא. [בויקרא רבה] ר' יוחנן כי הוה עייל לביתא מנענע משום שנאמר "ונשמע קולו בבואו אל הקדש".

You should make your voice known to them, for perhaps they are engaged in a private matter. [In Vayikra Rabbah we learn that] Rabbi Yochanan, when he would enter his home, would shake [and make a noise], because it is written, " and the sound shall be heard when he goes into the holy place."

According to the Gemara, the bells of the Kohen Gadol also served as a means to protect privacy – not of the Kohel Gadol himself, but of anyone he might encounter. We can readily imagine not wanting to bump into the Kohel Gadol while performing some innocuous activity. Imagine yourself after a nice lunch, checking your teeth in the mirror for that small poppy seed stuck between your teeth. Suddenly you realize that someone important – your boss/a potential client/the Kohen Gadol is standing right behind you. Were you doing anything wrong? Of course not. But it's embarrassing nonetheless. For this reason, the Torah ensures that while your boss or client might silently walk up behind you, the Kohen Gadol never would. His bells would give him away, and protect you from the slightest sense of shame.
What a wonderful lesson! Every person deserves a sense of privacy and protection from embarrassment. Moreover, Chazal extend this protection even to our own homes. No one likes to be surprised suddenly, even by the closest family member, even when they're standing in their own kitchen.
So get in the habit of knocking when you walk into your own house or your own bedroom (assuming that you share it with someone). It will make you a more sensitive person – and transform your house into an even holier home – one the kohen gadol would be happy to enter.

That, of course, is the answer to the riddle: The woman knew it was the thief because no one would knock on his own door. When the man apologized and said, "So sorry, I thought this was my room," that's when Mrs. Thompson knew that she had her man.
Unless he read this week's parshah.

Kedushah and Candy Bags

By Rabbi Reuven Spolter

Back when I lived in Michigan, one of my sons to studied Kung Fu in a local dojo. One way that they projected the seriousness of martial arts was in the established "sanctity of space" surrounding the dojo. Administrators politely but firmly discouraged cell phone use anywhere in the building. Neither students nor visitors were permitted to wear shoes on the workout mat. These and other minor but firmly enforced rules conveyed the tangible message to students that this dojo was a serious place for serious personal growth. Not surprisingly, this was the most successful martial arts center in Southeastern Michigan. Because the sifu (master) took his craft seriously, his students followed suit and grew both physically and spiritually during their time in the dojo.
After a while, I realized just how similar the dojo's rules are to the halachot related to kedushat beit hakenesset (sanctity of the shul). Halachah establishes very clear and firm rules about the sanctity of the Beit Hakeneset. The Shulchan Aruch (see אורח חיים סימן קנ"א) writes that in a Beit Kenesset:
1. One may not act with frivolity or light-headedness.
2. One may not discuss mundane or trivial matters, like business or world events.
3. One may not eat or drink.
4. One may not kiss his young children – really. (See רמ"א אורח חיים סי' צ"א סעיף א')
Chazal instituted these rules for a very specific reason: the way that we treat and relate to our Beit Hakeneset directly influences not only how we behave there, but how we use that space to relate to Hashem.
I raise this issue because the words of the Sefer Hachinuch on Parshat Terumah caught my attention. Terumah (and Tetzaveh, Vayakhel and Pekudei) relate the blueprints for and construction of the mishkan. But even before they delve into any of the details of the mishkan, Chazal confront a critical introductory question addressed by Shlomo Hamelech at the dedication of the first Beit Hamikdash in Yerushalayim. Why does Hashem command the construction of the Mishkan at all? After all,

כִּי, הַאֻמְנָם, יֵשֵׁב אֱלֹהִים, עַל-הָאָרֶץ; הִנֵּה הַשָּׁמַיִם וּשְׁמֵי הַשָּׁמַיִם, לֹא יְכַלְכְּלוּךָ--אַף, כִּי-הַבַּיִת הַזֶּה אֲשֶׁר בָּנִיתִי

But will God in very truth dwell on the earth? Behold, heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain You; how much less this house that I have built!

Sefer Hachinuch, (see Mitzvah 95) in a long and powerful essay worth reading, explains that while Hashem doesn't need a Beit Hamikdash, we certainly do.

הלא ידועים הדברים וברורים שהכל להכשר גופותינו, כי הגופות יוכשרו על ידי הפעולות, וברבות הפעולות הטובות ורוב התמדתן מחשבות הלב מטהרות מתלבנות מזדקקות. והשם חפץ בטובתן של בריות כמו שאמרנו, ועל כן ציונו לקבוע מקום שיהיה טהור ונקי בתכלית הנקיות, לטהר שם מחשבות בני איש ולתקן לבבם אליו בו...ומתוך הכשר המעשה וטהרת המחשבה שיהיה לנו שם יעלה שכלינו אל הדבקות עם השכל העליוני

Behold these ideas are well-known and clear, that all of this is for the preparation and perfection of our bodies. For the body is prepared through action, and with these continued good acts and their continued steady practice, the thoughts of the heart are purified, clarified and refined. God desires the benefit of [His] creations, as we have said, and therefore He commanded us to set aside a place that will be pure and clean in the greatest possible cleanliness, to purify there the thoughts of man and to refine their hearts toward Him…And through this preparation of action and purification of thought we will have there, we will exalt our intellect to cling with the Exalted Intellect.

Hashem commands us to build a Mishkan and Beit Hamikdash to give us a place completely and totally devoted to our spiritual development. We treat that place with reverence, respect and purity because we need that purity to leads us towards Hashem.

The comments of the Chinuch resonate strongly with me this week. Last Shabbat in my shul in Yad Binyamin, we celebrated the Bar Mitzvah of the son of a neighbor. After the kriat hatorah came the compulsory candy-throwing and the literally dozens of children writhing on the ground, lunging for toffees. In one sense, it was a beautiful scene: a shul packed with children celebrating a young man's entrance into the ranks of Jewish men. But in the real world, pandemonium ensued. Kids ran everywhere, diving between benches at stray candies. Girls threw candy at the men. Men threw candy at men. The davening stopped completely, and even when prayer resumed, it would be hard to argue that many other than the chazzan were actually praying for a long while.
Commenting on the prohibition to kiss your children in shul the Mishnah Berurah writes,

בשל"ה קורא תגר על המביאים ילדים לבהכ"נ והיינו קטנים שעדיין לא הגיעו לחינוך מטעם כי הילדים משחקים ומרקדים בבהכ"נ ומחללים קדושת בהכ"נ וגם מבלבלים דעת המתפללים ועוד גם כי יזקינו לא יסוקו ממנהגם הרע אשר נתחנכו בילדותם להשתגע ולבזות קדושת בהכ"נ אבל כשהגיעו לחינוך אדרבה יביאנו אתו לבהכ"נ וילמדהו אורחות חיים לישב באימה וביראה

The Shelah strongly criticizes those who bring their children to shul – and this refers to those children who have yet to reach the age of education. This is because small children play and dance in shul and desecrate the holiness of the shul. They also disturb the concentration of those who are praying. Moreover, when they grow older they will not abandon the bad habits that they learned as children, to go crazy and denigrate the sanctity of the shul. But when they reach the age of education quite the opposite is true: one should bring [his children] to shul and teach them the way of life, to sit with awe and fear.

Reading the wise words of the Chafetz Chaim, I realize: I am one of those children. My entire generation grew up chasing candy in shul, wandering the aisles waiting for davening to end. True, at least we were in shul. But can we truly claim that we treat our shuls today with a level of sanctity that encourages an atmosphere of sanctity and seriousness that brings us closer to Hashem? Do we honestly refrain from frivolous talk in shul? Do we turn off our cell phones before we enter (that's mostly for men during the week) or do we text quick answers during chazarat hashatz?
And, perhaps even more importantly, are we raising our children in exactly the same way? Or will we prevent them from repeating our mistakes? Consider these questions the next time you (unwittingly) go to kiss your beautiful baby in shul on Shabbat morning.