The Lessons of the Ramps to the Altar

by Rabbi Avi Weiss

Source: Jewish Journal—Dade County, February 10, 2004

The last sentence [of this week’s portion] states that ramps should lead to the altar (Exodus 20:23). Why are ramps used and not steps?

The issue may be one of modesty. In the ancient Near East, nudity was associated with ritual activity. This link is rejected by Torah. If there were steps, the robe of the priest would be upset while he climbed them, revealing the nakedness of his limbs. As Rashi points out, with ramps, this would not occur.

Another idea comes to mind. The altar symbolizes a central place of spirituality. The ramps connecting the ground with the altar teach that in order to reach the higher world of the spirit one must be in constant motion. Ramps imply perpetual movement, whereas steps can offer rest. Similar to the ladders of Jacob’s dream, in the world of the spirit—one can either ascend or descend—never can one stand still.

Another important contemporary lesson can be learned. The presence of ramps can be viewed as a symbol of accessibility. Once there is accessibility in the place of the spirit, either in the altar or in today’s synagogue, it sends a message that all places should be open to [people with disabilities.] Not only do ramps send a message of welcome to the physically challenged, but they also send to one and all, even to those not in wheelchairs, that everyone, regardless of affiliation, health or station in life is welcome.

For me, the ramps to the altar powerfully remind us what makes a synagogue beautiful. I have heard Jews with a passion for architecture, debate this question at length. Some may advocate an ultra-modern structure with a skylight over the ark, while others may prefer a more traditional structure. Personally, the first items I look for in a shul are ramps. If the synagogue is accessible, it is beautiful.

To those who feel themselves far removed from the issue and believe it has nothing to do with them, let it be said that none of us are immune from the misfortunes that befall others. There is no such thing as the sick and the well. There are only the sick and the not yet sick.

A photograph in my office says it all. It is of a man sitting in his wheelchair at the bottom of a flight of steps, leading up to the entrance of the synagogue. Over its door, is emblazoned the sentence, “Open the gates of righteousness for me, I will enter through them.” (Psalm 118:19)

The man sits with his back to the doors, unable to enter. As a Jewish community we have failed him. Our task is to learn from the ramps that led to the altar in the tabernacle. They teach that we must make sure that this man can face the door and be welcomed as he makes his way in.