Donating In Many Ways Other Than Financially

Parshat Vayakhel

by Rabbi Avi Billet

As the Torah progresses with the building of the Mishkan (Tabernacle), we find the instructions of chapters 25-31 coming to life with the actions of the people at the beginning of our Parsha, culminating with Moshe turning to Bezalel to essentially tell him, “Do your magic.” (end of chapter 35 –beginning of chapter 36)

“Every man and woman who felt an urge in their heart to give something for all the work that God had ordered through Moses, they – the Israelites – brought a donation for God.” (35:29)

Does “Every man” and “Every woman” refer just to those who had an urge to donate, or to every single person?

The Malbim shares a very powerful interpretation that should remind us of how each and every person can make a contribution.

“What it means to say is that all these donations [of money] are not what God seeks. He wants the hearts. If there was a man or woman amongst the Israelites who did not donate, because the poor people have nothing to donate, they at least dedicated their hearts. They donated their hearts and their thoughts (and skills?). They determined in their hearts that if they only had the means they’d donate all the money for the Mishkan and its vessels.

 “This is what it means when it says they felt the urge to donate a donation of the heart – they wanted to build the entire Mishkan! The Israelites brought this man and this woman as a gift/donation to God. This man and this woman who desired with all their hearts to be involved – this is the ultimate donation that God wanted, and was receptive to accepting. It is as if Israel is bringing this kind of donation in that they merited to find among them straight, righteous people such as these.”

It seems profound, but in truth it’s not such a novel idea.

The way life looks these days, some people manage to ride around the financial struggle that others live day in and day out. And many live check to check, are in debt, and truly cannot afford to participate in certain aspects of Jewish life, and certainly not in philanthropy, in the manner that others seem so able to do.

How can everyone none the less feel “This is my mishkan?” By giving time instead of money. By showing up. By volunteering. By working the phones, working behind the desk. And through being one of the people that brings life to an institution.

Maybe some parents provide free handiwork to their childrens' school in lieu of tuition. Maybe some members teach classes, or attend every class possible, to support shul programming. Other “shul-people” seem to always be involved in constructive and active ways in the goings-on of the synagogue, they become staples at every event, every program, and almost seem to define the shul itself.

“Owning” a shul or a school doesn’t mean that every person who wants to needs to become a great writer (punch line “who wrote a check.” (2nd to last joke there))

Sometimes the make-up of these institutions is largely defined by those who roll up their sleeves, on the ground, who become the movers and shakers who determine the trajectory of where the community is headed, simply because they are the ones with the most experience, and the most inside knowledge of what the people want, and what is best for the growth of the community.

Raise your hand if you know someone like this. Be even prouder, if this has been describing you.