There’s this in-between time in Israel right now, after Sukkot (The Festival of Booths) but before Shemini Atzeret–Simchat Torah (The Eighth Day of Assembly and Rejoicing of the Torah). Technically, we’re still in the holiday. These are the Chol HaMoed days, the “weekday” part of the festival, when work is permitted but the spirit of celebration continues.
That middle ground gives Israel a special kind of energy. The kids are off school, the weather’s perfect, and the entire country seems to spill outdoors. Parks are packed with families eating in sukkot, roads lead to hikes and festivals, and every town feels a little like summer camp. Parents are half on vacation, half catching up on work, juggling lulavim and laptops, and somehow, it all works.
And that’s the type of energy we found ourselves with this past Thursday. We loaded the kids, snacks, and our Israel Bible into the car and made the trek to Shiloh.
We’ve lived here for four years, but I’d only been once before, over a decade ago. Shiloh has always been high on my list, but the timing never lined up. This time, though, it felt right. During Sukkot, one of the shalosh regalim (the three pilgrimage festivals), Jews used to come here to bring offerings. Long before Jerusalem, Shiloh was the spiritual center of Israel, the place where the Mishkan (Tabernacle) stood for nearly four hundred years.
The site was full of people when we arrived, groups of school kids, families, and tour buses. We started with a workshop making pitot, pressing dough into circles and watching them puff up over the fire. Nearby, another table had jars of spices laid out to mix Ketoret, the incense used in the Mishkan: cinnamon, cloves, frankincense, myrrh. The air smelled sweet and smoky. It wasn’t quiet or reverent, it was noisy, lively, full of motion, exactly what I imagine ancient Shiloh might have been during the festivals.
We ate lunch together in a large sukkah, and then walked through an exhibit about the parah adumah, the red heifer. I’d read about it so many times, but here the story felt startlingly current. They told us that there are actual red heifers being raised in Shiloh today, under careful watch.
Then we set out toward the archaeological site, walking past olive trees and low stone walls. Along the way were ruins of homes and pottery from the time of Yehoshua (Joshua). Eventually, we reached the broad, flat area where archaeologists believe the Mishkan once stood.
It’s such a short verse, but it captures something enormous, the end of wandering, the beginning of rootedness.
The Talmud teaches that in Shiloh, the Mishkan changed. It wasn’t the portable tent of the desert anymore, but it wasn’t yet the permanent Temple either. Its foundation was made of stone, while its roof remained fabric. Shiloh was the first attempt to plant holiness into the ground, to make it stay.
It’s here that Hannah came to pray, heartbroken over her infertility. The priest Eli mistook her silent prayer for drunkenness until she told him, “I have poured out my soul before the Lord.” Her son Shmuel (Samuel) was born, and he grew up here, sleeping near the Mishkan. It was in Shiloh that he heard the divine voice for the first time:
Shiloh wasn’t about grandeur, it was about transition. The place between desert and kingdom, between mobility and home. God’s presence rested there, not because the structure was perfect, but because the people were learning what it meant to live with holiness nearby.
By the time we reached the top, Shiloh was buzzing. Tour guides shouted to their groups, kids darted between the ruins, and families prayed Mincha in clusters facing the same direction. It wasn’t solemn, it was joyful, busy, full of life. And maybe that’s exactly right. The Mishkan was never a museum piece. It was meant for movement, for community, for sound.
Standing there, I thought about how remarkable it is that the same hills that once held the Mishkan now hold families eating pitot and mixing incense for fun. Holiness isn’t fragile; it adapts. It finds new ways to be present.
That’s the spirit of Chol HaMoed too, these in-between days when holiness and ordinary life overlap. Between Sukkot and Simchat Torah, between work and rest, between history and now, Shiloh reminds us that the presence of God was never limited to one place or one time. It still fills the world, waiting for us to notice.
Interested in learning more about the era of the Mishkan (Tabernacle)? Bible Plus has you covered. Explore courses on every book of the Torah, plus deep dives into Joshua, Judges, and Samuel — where the story of Shiloh comes to life.Curious about the parah adumah (red heifer) and its role in ancient Israel? We have courses on that too. Bible Plus is your all-in-one Bible study platform — affordable, engaging, and designed so you can learn at your own pace. Join Bible Plus today and bring the Bible to life like never before.
