Jesus: From Genesis to Revelation

Day 2: The Tabernacle Structure -- Curtains, Frames, and the Veil

Reading

Historical Context

Exodus 26 reads like the blueprint of a master architect – and that is precisely what it is. God himself designs his dwelling, specifying every curtain, clasp, frame, and bar with a precision that strikes modern readers as tedious but struck ancient Israel as revelatory. The God who created the cosmos with ten spoken words now specifies the thread count of his tent. This is not bureaucratic excess. It is the language of divine self-disclosure rendered in linen and gold.

The tabernacle’s innermost layer consists of ten curtains of fine twisted linen (shesh mashzar) woven with blue, purple, and scarlet yarn, with cherubim “skillfully worked” (ma’aseh choshev) into the fabric. The Hebrew phrase implies the highest level of artisanship – not embroidery applied on top but design woven into the very structure of the cloth. These curtains form the ceiling and inner walls visible to the priests who enter the holy place. Above them lies a layer of goat-hair curtains – eleven panels, slightly larger, extending beyond the linen layer to protect it. Above that, a covering of tanned ram skins dyed red, and finally an outer layer of fine leather (possibly dugong or sea-cow skin, the Hebrew tachash being notoriously difficult to translate). The structure moves from glory inside to ruggedness outside – beauty concealed beneath ordinary-looking coverings.

The forty-eight frames (qerashim) of acacia wood, each overlaid with gold and standing in silver bases (adanim), provide the structural skeleton. The silver bases are significant: according to Exodus 38:25-28, they were made from the silver collected in the census – the ransom money (kopher) paid by each Israelite male. Every frame of the tabernacle rests on a foundation of redemption money. The structure literally stands on atonement. Five bars of acacia wood overlaid with gold run horizontally through the frames, with the middle bar running the full length of each wall, binding the structure together. The tabernacle is a tent, but it is an engineered tent – designed for assembly, disassembly, and transport through the wilderness.

The most theologically charged element is the parokhet – the inner veil that separates the holy place from the Most Holy Place. It is made of the same materials as the innermost curtains: blue, purple, and scarlet yarn on fine twisted linen, with cherubim skillfully worked into it. The colors themselves carry symbolic weight in ancient Near Eastern culture. Blue (tekhelet) was associated with the heavens and with royalty – the dye was extracted from the murex snail and was extraordinarily expensive. Purple (argaman) signified kingship and wealth. Scarlet (shani tola’at, literally “scarlet of the worm”) was derived from crushed insects and represented sacrifice and blood. Together, these three colors appear on the one barrier that separates a holy God from a sinful people – heaven, royalty, and blood woven into a single curtain.

The cherubim on the veil are the same guardians who appear at the gate of Eden in Genesis 3:24. Their presence on the parokhet is an architectural declaration: the exile from God’s presence that began in the garden has not ended. The way back is blocked. But the veil also declares that the way exists. Behind it sits the ark, the mercy seat, the presence of God. The barrier is real, but it is not permanent. It is woven fabric, not stone. It can be torn.

Christ in This Day

The veil of the tabernacle stands at the center of one of the most dramatic moments in all of Scripture. For fifteen centuries – from the wilderness to Jerusalem, from the mishkan to Solomon’s temple to Herod’s renovation – a curtain woven with cherubim separated the holy place from the Most Holy Place. Only the high priest passed through it. Only once a year. Only on the Day of Atonement. Only with blood that was not his own. The barrier was absolute. And then, at the moment of Christ’s death on the cross, “the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom” (Matthew 27:51). From top to bottom – not from bottom to top, as a human hand would tear it. The tearing begins on God’s side. God himself rips open the barrier that has stood since Eden’s cherubim blocked the way.

The author of Hebrews interprets this event with theological exactness: “Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh” (Hebrews 10:19-20). The identification is breathtaking. The veil is Christ’s flesh. When his body is torn on the cross, the veil is torn in the temple. The barrier between God and humanity – maintained for fifteen centuries in blue, purple, and scarlet thread, guarded by embroidered cherubim – is removed in a single act of sacrificial death. The colors of the veil find their fulfillment in the crucifixion: the blue of heaven in the one who descended from heaven, the purple of royalty in the King who wore a mocking purple robe (John 19:2), the scarlet of blood in the blood that flowed from his wounds.

The tabernacle’s structure – glory concealed beneath ordinary coverings, beauty hidden inside a tent of animal skins – is itself a portrait of the incarnation. John 1:14 announces that “the Word became flesh and eskenosen [tabernacled] among us, and we have seen his glory.” The Greek verb deliberately echoes the Hebrew shakan – the same root that gives us mishkan, “tabernacle.” Jesus is the tabernacle. His humanity is the outer covering of rough skins; his deity is the inner glory of woven linen and gold. Those who looked at him from the outside saw a carpenter from Nazareth. Those who were granted sight – like Peter, James, and John on the Mount of Transfiguration – saw the glory shining through, “his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became white as light” (Matthew 17:2). The tabernacle’s design principle – glory wrapped in humility – is the design principle of the incarnation itself.

Paul extends the imagery further when he writes that Christ “has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility” (Ephesians 2:14). The wall that separated Jew from Gentile, the barrier that kept the nations at a distance from the God of Israel, has been demolished in the same act that tore the veil. The crucifixion does not merely open a private door between one worshiper and God. It tears down every dividing curtain – between God and humanity, between Jew and Gentile, between the sacred and the profane. The tabernacle’s carefully maintained boundaries find their fulfillment not in further restriction but in the abolition of every barrier through the body of Christ.

Key Themes

Connections

Old Testament Roots

Genesis 3:24 places cherubim at the entrance to Eden, guarding the way to the tree of life. The cherubim on the veil continue this theme – the way to God’s immediate presence remains guarded. The blue, purple, and scarlet colors of the tabernacle appear again in the high priest’s garments (Exodus 28) and in Solomon’s temple curtain (2 Chronicles 3:14), maintaining a continuous thread of symbolism from wilderness to Jerusalem.

New Testament Echoes

Matthew 27:51 records the tearing of the temple curtain at the moment of Christ’s death. Hebrews 10:19-20 identifies the curtain with Christ’s flesh and declares the way into the Most Holy Place permanently open. John 1:14 uses tabernacle language (eskenosen) to describe the incarnation. Revelation 21:3 announces the final fulfillment: “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man” – no veil, no barrier, no mediation required.

Parallel Passages

2 Chronicles 3:14 describes Solomon’s temple veil with the same materials and cherubim design. Ezekiel 10:1-22 depicts the cherubim in the prophet’s vision of God’s glory departing from the temple. Isaiah 6:1-4 shows the seraphim (closely related to cherubim) attending God’s throne while the temple fills with smoke – the glory that the veil simultaneously reveals and conceals.

Reflection Questions

  1. The tabernacle’s outermost covering was unremarkable animal skin, but its interior was woven glory. How does this pattern of hidden glory shape your understanding of the incarnation – God wrapped in human flesh, the Creator disguised as a carpenter?

  2. The cherubim on the veil declared that the way to God’s presence was blocked but real – the barrier was fabric, not stone. How does the tearing of the veil at Christ’s death change the way you approach God in prayer, knowing the barrier has been permanently removed?

  3. The silver bases of the tabernacle frames were made from ransom money – the structure of God’s dwelling rested on redemption. What does it mean that every aspect of your access to God is built on the foundation of Christ’s atoning work?

Prayer

Holy God, you designed a dwelling of breathtaking beauty and then concealed it beneath ordinary skins – teaching us, before the incarnation ever came, that your glory would one day be wrapped in humility. Thank you for the veil that told the truth for fifteen centuries: the way to your presence was real but not yet open. And thank you for the moment when that veil tore from top to bottom – not by human hands but by yours – when your Son’s body was broken and every barrier between you and your people fell. We no longer stand outside the curtain, wondering. We enter with confidence, through the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way he opened through his flesh. Teach us never to treat that access casually, for the curtain that tore was woven with the threads of heaven, royalty, and sacrifice. In the name of Jesus Christ, the veil torn open, the way made new. Amen.