By Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D.
SAN DIEGO — When you give something of yourself, who benefits? Of course, the person to whom you offered something, but the Torah this week sets the groundwork for something many know. Hashem is teaching us this week, among other lessons, that when you contribute, give, you receive and benefit in turn. The longest palindrome in the Torah is “Venatnu” – vav, nun, taf, nun, vav – which spells the same backwards and forwards…when you give, you receive. Even the name of this week’s Torah reading, “Terumah,” coming from the root “Ram,” which means “elevated,” shows us that when we extend ourselves and give to another, we are uplifted. What we have, is what we give away.
Giving from our heart’s desire as an expression of goodwill, as an expression of building our spiritual connection to Hashem, and in turn this builds our health and happiness. And keep in mind what Abraham ibn Ezra explains about giving a “donation,” that before we give something away, we give something up from ourselves. This helps us ascend toward Hashem, the spiritual purpose of our building the Mishkan – an external display of our internal longing.
Whether it’s our shul, the schools in our community, or another favorite charity, it is important to keep in mind the lesson of Terumah.
When we give tzedakah we distribute Hashem’s gifts as His gabba’ei tzedakah and we receive, we never lose, we only fully benefit. The physical world is not ours to begin with, so when we give, we receive blessings from Hashem. We are simply responsible for distributing His bounty. When we give from our hearts, Terumah teaches us, we ultimately benefit from connecting with Hashem. No, we don’t require contemporary science to introduce us to the value in our lives of giving from the heart. This week’s parasha confirms it for us.
The parasha begins with the request for contributions for the Mishkan/Tabernacle. “Hashem spoke to Moshe saying: ‘Speak to the Children of Israel and let them take for me a contribution; from every man whose heart inspires him, you shall take My contribution.”
Money and goods were collected from all. But the only true contributions were from those who gave with love and inspiration. Those who contributed begrudgingly in actuality were as if they gave nothing. The only real contribution was the nedivus halev…of the generous of spirit.
Those who gave nedivus halev realized that there is a far greater purpose than just giving. They worked together, each person encouraging and inspiring his neighbor to give as well.
The Toras Moshe teaches us that when man offers these things to Hashem, the gift he gives is not the silver and gold, for that is already Hashem’s. Instead, what he gives is the willingness of his heart, the good intention that impelled him to make the offering. These qualities are truly his own and he offers them to Hashem with love and inspiration.
Again, we learn the value of Jewish unity, of recognizing that when there is an opportunity to do a mitzvah, we must seek to share it with others. Rabbi Judah Loew, known as the Maharal of Prague, teaches us the difference between acts of personal kindness, chessed, and acts of charity, tzedakah. The Talmud, we learn, records the basic differences: “The Rabbis taught: In three ways is kindness greater than charity. Charity is done with money; kindness can be either with one’s person or one’s money. Charity is for the poor; kindness can be done for either the poor or the rich. Charity is for the living; kindness can be done for the living or the dead” (Sukkah 49b).
We must not feel smug, or better than anyone else, for having done a mitzvah, for if our goal in life is truly to give nachas ruach (pleasure to Hashem), then we wisely gladden others and are united with all Jews with our kindness and our charity.
We see again and again in this week’s parasha and in the holiday of Purim soon coming up, the need to help each other, regardless of one’s level of religious observance. A Jew is a Jew.
Chizkuni writes that the Ark wasn’t made of gold to lighten the burden of the Levites who had to carry it. We must always likewise be concerned about lightening the burden of our fellow Jews.
We also learn a similar message from the Keruvim in this week’s sedra. While we must always elevate ourselves like the Keruvim and “spread our wings upward” – serving Hashem with simcha, we must also maintain “our faces one toward another” concerning ourselves with the welfare of our fellow Jews.
The story is told of a little girl flying her kite on a windy day near the beach in La Jolla. The kite was so flying so high up in the clouds, it couldn’t be seen. A stranger walked up to her and asked her what she was doing.
“I’m flying my kite high up in the sky, mister,” she said. He replied, “What? I don’t see any kite. How do you know it’s up there?” The little girl smiled, and said, “Mister, I know it’s up there because…I feel the tug.”
Do we need a sanctuary to feel Hashem’s presence and to know that He dwells in our midst? Or, like the little girl flying her kite, do we “feel the tug” wherever we are? Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk teaches us that “G-d dwells where we let Him in.”
Where do you let Him in? What sanctuary in your life have you built for Him to dwell within you? Does Hashem really need a sanctuary, or does He recognize that we need to participate in building one so that we feel, know, that He is within ourselves? The answer is clear, isn’t it? Rabbi Isaac Abravanel raised this, “Why did [G-d] command the erection of the tabernacle, when [God] said “that I may dwell among them,” as if G-d were an object demarcated and limited in space—which is the opposite of the truth!… After all, G-d himself spoke these words through the prophet Isaiah (66:1): “The heavens are my throne, and the earth is my footstool; what kind of house can you build for me?”
Answers Maimonides in Sefer HaChinuch, “Know, my child, that any commandment that God requires of humankind comes only out of G-d’s desire to benefit us . . . G-d’s command to build the Tabernacle, for us to offer therein our prayers and sacrifices, comes not out of G-d’s needs to dwell in an earthly dwelling among humankind, but rather [out of G-d’s awareness that we need] train our own selves.”
Hashem surely recognizes that by our contributing to the building of the Mishkan then, and in our own houses of worship now, we are able to nurture a relationship with Hashem based upon commitment, involvement, and love. Keep in mind that the word Mishkan comes from the same root at the word Shechinah, the Divine Presence which dwells in creation. They are aligned, as can we be when we contribute, give, and build in a unified way, our own modern-day sanctuary.
When we consider the parasha through the lens of life-improving lessons, we see highlighted the importance of giving and helping others, which as we’ve seen, helps the receiver and the giver while promoting healthy emotions such as joy, increased self-worth, and gratitude. The value of collaboration is found in working together to build the Tabernacle. I also see the benefit of beauty and aesthetics in our lives as we read of the attention to these details in building the Mishkan. These can contribute to our sense of well-being as well, particularly emphasizing the good that comes with our creating a space where we can mindfully and quietly connect with something greater than ourselves. Finally, there is the psychological value of having a deep sense of purpose, which we read about in the construction of the Tabernacle, pointing us to having a sense of purpose and meaning to ultimately lead a more fulfilling and connected life.
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Michael R. Mantell, Ph.D., prepares a weekly D’var Torah for Young Israel of San Diego, where he and his family are members. They are also active members of Congregation Adat Yeshurun. He may be contacted via michael.mantell@sdjewishworld.com