We are to treat the Mikdash and its articles as a separate, distinct realm, which requires feeling a degree of uneasiness and tension in their presence. Viewing them in their exposed state, and especially as they are packed, makes them appear too ordinary, too familiar, such that the lines between our realm and the realm of the Mikdash are obscured.
Parashat Bamidbar ends with God’s command to the kohanim not to allow the Kehatites – the family of Leviyim charged with transporting the sacred articles of the Mishkan – to view the articles before they are placed in their coverings. Before Benei Yisrael disembarked, the kohanim would cover the sacred articles in preparation for transport. God here warns that the Kehatites must not look “ke-vala et ha-kodesh” – when the articles are exposed, before they are placed inside their coverings (Rashbam, Chizkuni).
The Gemara in Masekhet Sanhedrin (81b) adds another interpretation of this verse, reading it as an allusion to the special law of “ha-goneiv et ha-kisva” – one who steals one of the sacred articles of the Mishkan. This violator is subject to the extraordinary provision of “kana’in pog’in bo,” which allows zealots overcome with sincere rage to defend the Almighty’s honor by executing the thief. The Gemara writes that the verse here in Parashat Bamidbar – “ke-vala et ha-kodesh va-meitu” – alludes to this law, indicating that one who “devours” (“ke-vala”) – meaning, steals – a sacred article is liable to death.
Might there be some connection between the plain meaning of this verse – as forbidding viewing the sacred articles while they are exposed – and the homiletic reading, as referring to theft of the sacred articles?
The prohibition against viewing the keilim before they are packed relates to the sense of reverence with which they must be treated. Looking on as the articles are packed into bags could easily diminish from the awe that they must evoke. We are to treat the Mikdash and its articles as a separate, distinct realm, which requires feeling a degree of uneasiness and tension in their presence. Viewing them in their exposed state, and especially as they are packed, makes them appear too ordinary, too familiar, such that the lines between our realm and the realm of the Mikdash are obscured. In this sense, perhaps, viewing the sacred articles is a kind of “theft,” the extreme expression of denying legal boundaries. The thief looks upon all possessions as potentially his; he fails to recognize the boundary lines that separate one person’s domain from that of his fellow. If we fail to treat matters of kedusha with the awe and reverence they deserve, then we are guilty of a kind of “theft,” blurring the lines between different domains, between the realm of sanctity and the realm of the mundane. If we feel too comfortable and at ease in relating to kedusha, then we are not that different from the thief who feels “at home” around other people’s property, failing to recognize the boundaries separating between his property and that of others.
Courtesy of Yeshivat Har Etzion