Parashat Terumah
Rabbi Boaz Tomsky
We all love weddings. Maybe it's the dancing or the joy that fills
the air. What we are not all aware of are the intricate procedures
of the actual wedding ceremony. One such law is that the groom must
give a ring or something of value to his bride and to recite, “Harai
at mikudeshes lee,” “behold you are betrothed to me.” The bride must
receive some sort of benefit, worth at least a perutah for the
marriage to be considered valid. Without the bride receiving any
benefit, the couple is not legally married according to Jewish law.
The
Talmud does present a situation where the marriage is binding even
though the groom never handed anything over to his bride. In fact,
there is an instance where the marriage is valid even where she is
the one giving to her groom! The Talmud explains that this is a case
of an adam chashuv, an important man who usually doesn't receive
presents. His accepting of her gift gives her tremendous pleasure
and satisfaction. She received the personal benefit for her own
generosity. Therefore, although this woman appears to be giving, in
fact she is really receiving.
Our Parsha opens with an appeal for funds. “V'yikchu lee terumah,”
“and take for me a Terumah.” The commentators grapple over the
wording of the text-take for me a portion. But we are the ones
giving a gift. We aren't taking anything. Why then does the Torah
say “V'yikchu lee terumah?” Perhaps this teaches us the
message of giving to the Beit Hamikdosh. When monies are being
donated for the Mishkan's construction, that individual becomes a
shareholder in the process. They have a portion in G-d's home. This
feeling of belonging to something bigger than yourself is really a “v'yikchu”
an act of taking, not giving.
We find this principle by the aron, the Holy Ark. The aron was made
of gold with cherubs, angel-like figures on its top. In addition,
the Torah says, “V'asisa badey atzei shitim, v'ztapisa osam zahav,”
“you shall make staves of acacia wood and cover them with gold.” The
purpose of these poles was to carry the ark when the Bnai Yisroel
were traveling in the wilderness.
Our sages teach us an incredible phenomenon about the ark, “V'aron
nosei es astzmo,” “the Aron carried itself.” The ark miraculously
levitated from place to place. Nonetheless, we required people to
hold the poles who appeared to be carrying it. The perception was
that they were doing the work. They carried and supported the Ark.
But in reality, it was the ark that supported itself.
Chazal
explain that the aron represents the institutions of Torah study and
that the pole bearers represent the “supporters” of Torah. The
appearance is that it's the philanthropists that are giving and the
institutions that are taking. In reality, “v'aron nosei es astzmo,”
they receive much more than they give in being engaged in such a
huge Mitzvah as supporting a Torah institution.
Many things in life are not as they seem. This rings true for being
a teacher. When I was a Judaic studies instructor I would often stop
and ask myself, “Who is really the teacher and who is really the
student?” I remember vividly when my eighth grade students came back
from a trip to Israel a couple of years ago. Many of these children
were not from Torah observant families. Most of my students were
never even once in their lives in Eretz Yisroel. When they came
back, I recognized my students' faces, but their souls had changed
beyond recognition. One boy came into class wearing his Tzitizit
out. This was the same child who never owned a pair just a month
ago. Another girl before she left for the trip, told me how she
wanted to attend a public high school. Now she said that after
attending a Jewish high school, she wanted to learn for a year in
Israel. I can't begin to tell you how much my students inspired me
on that day. As a teacher, I always try my best to give my all to my
students. But as I reflect back to that moment in time, I must admit
that I received much more.
I am not the first teacher to realize the greatness of his students.
This concept goes back thousands of years, back to the time of the
Talmud. The Gemara states, “Harbey Torah lomadetee mayrabosei
umaychaveirai yoser mayhem u'maytalmudei yoser maykulan,”
“I
learned much from my teachers. I learned more from my friends and
the most from my students.” I, too, appeared to be a giver but in
reality “v'yikchu lee terumah.” I was a taker.
Next
week we will be celebrating the holiday of Purim. On Purim, we
perform four mitzvot: shalach manot, giving gifts to our friends,
mataos l'evyonim, giving to the poor, seudas Purim, the festive meal
and mikra megillah, the reading of the Megillah. Out of these four
mitzvot, which is the most important in terms of spending ones
money? The Rambam clearly states that mataos l'evyonim, giving to
the poor is the best way to spend one's money on Purim.
Most
of us don't do this. Instead, we spend the whole day of Purim
driving around, delivering shalach manot to all of our friends.
Perhaps, a few moments before the sun sets, we remember that we
didn't give any mataos l'evyonim. We frantically run to a Tzadakah
box and deposit a dollar for charity. We must stop for a moment and
ask ourselves, who needs our gifts more - our friends, or the
impoverished man who doesn't know where his next meal is going to
come from? The answer is often lying on our dining room tables. Our
tables are filled with all sorts of candies and grape juice bottles.
More often than not, half of the food is thrown in the garbage.
True
simchat Purim is giving to someone who is lacking. Bringing joy to
another person is an easy way to become b'simcha, filled with true
joy. One will see that the personal benefit one receives for their
generosity will far surpass the few dollars one hands over to those
in need. We will realize that this joy will make us the takers, not
the givers. This is the message of Purim. This is the message of
generosity. It is “v'yikchu lee terumah.”
First Published February 24, 2007
for National Council of Young Israel Weekly Divrei Torah
|