WHY WERE THEY SO GENEROUS?

An old Jewish beggar was out on the street, begging with his tin cup.

A man passed by and the beggar said to the man, "Sir, could you spare a quarter for a cup of coffee?"

And the man said, "Where do you get coffee for 25 cents?"

And the beggar said, "Who buys retail?"

"Doctor I need your help," complained Yankel. "I talk to myself."

"Do you suffer any pain?" asked the doctor.   "No."

"In that case," said the doctor, "go home and don't worry. 

Millions of people talk to themselves...many people have a similar condition. It is all good."

"But doctor," cried Yankele, "you don't know what a nudnik I am!"

Building a sanctuary is difficult enough. Getting people to donate has been, historically, even more difficult. That, however, was not the case concerning the construction of the first Temple—the Mishkan the Jewish people built in the desert. 

The Torah in this week portion Vayakhel tells us that everyone contributed to the cause. The men came with the women; every generous hearted person brought bracelets and earrings and rings, all kinds of golden objects, and every man who waved a waving of gold to the Lord.

The contributions were so generous, that an announcement was made, ordering the entire nation to halt their generosity. This was probably, the first and last time in Jewish history that people were asked to stop giving.

But what is intriguing is that the Torah, in a very conspicuous way, highlights another group of donors. And it remains ambiguous.

After the Torah concludes its description of the fact that all of the people of Israel donated all the items, the Torah all of a sudden mentions another group of donors.

And Moses called Bezalel and Oholiab and every wise hearted man into whose heart G-d had given wisdom, every one whose heart lifted him up to approach the work to do it. They took from before Moses all the offerings that the children of Israel had brought for the work of the service of the Holy, and they brought to him more gifts very early in the morning.

What do these last words mean? “And they brought an additional offering very early in the morning."

First of all, who were these generous donors to be deserving to be singled out from everyone else? And why should this group deserve special recognition for their contribution, when the entire community did the same?

The daughter of Reb Zusia, one of the great Chasidic masters of the 18th century, was engaged. As poor as he was, Reb Zusia and his wife scraped together enough money for a seamstress to sew a beautiful gown for the bride-to-be. 

After a month the gown was ready, and Reb Zusia's wife and his daughter went with a bundle of rubbles to the home of the seamstress to pick up the finished gown.

An hour later they came home empty-handed. "Where is the gown?" asked the Reb Zusia. Was it stolen, perhaps lost? Did the seamstress not finish the job?

"Well," said his wife, "When I came to pick up the gown, I saw tears in the eyes of the seamstress. I asked her why she was crying and she told me that her daughter, too, was getting married.

Then she looked at the beautiful gown that she had sewn for me and sighed, "if only we could afford such beautiful material for a gown."

Reb Zusia's wife continued. "At that moment our daughter, the bride, couldn’t resist and decided to let the seamstress have her gown as a gift!"

“I was delighted with her decision. I know that for our daughter, we can find friends who will help us weave a new gown, or we can even borrow a beautiful gown for the night.”

Reb Zusia was delighted. The mitzvah of helping a poor bride was dear to him and he longed for the opportunity to fulfill it. 

But then he added one question to his wife. "Did you pay the seamstress for the work she did for us?"

"Pay her? What do you mean pay her," asked the wife, "I gave her the gown!"

"I'm sorry," said the Reb Zusia. "You said the gown was a gift. We still owe her for the four weeks of work she spent on it for us. When she was working on the gown, she did it with the expectation of getting paid. She probably had to refuse other jobs, relying on the money she would receive for this gown. We have no right to deprive her of that hard-earned money. The fact that we are giving her a gift is our own positive mitzvah, but it does not exempt us from paying up!" 

The Rebbetzin agreed. She returned to the seamstress and gave her the full money for the gown. In addition to the expensive gift of the gown, she compensated the seamstress for her work.

This story can shed light on our previous dilemma as to who were theses generous donors who brought their donation early in the morning and why the Torah singles them out.

Let’s review the verse carefully and it all becomes clear. “They took from before Moses all the offerings that the children of Israel had brought for the work of the service of the Holy, and they brought to him more gifts very early in the morning.”

Who brought to him these extra gifts? Obviously, it is the people mentioned in the opening of the verse. It was the craftsmen and builders who retrieved all of the contributions, for they were to do the work. The Torah now adds that it was these men and women who volunteered to physically build the tabernacle by tailoring, weaving, designing and constructing. All of them also offered their own contributions for the Tabernacle.

Which explains why the Torah feels compelled to make a point out of this. These laborers, the goldsmiths, carpenters, and artists could have easily absolved themselves from donating their own wealth. After all, they have already made a far more generous donation. They offered their time, skill, and energy to actually build the entire Sanctuary! They have done their part already. “After all,” they could have justly said, "we are donating so many hours from morning to sunset weaving, tailoring, crafting; what else do you expect? We are not only donating silver and gold; we are donating time, energy, sweat and labor.”

But they did not exonerate themselves. The Torah tells us that “ they brought to him more gifts very early in the morning.” They wished to have the merit to contribute to the Sanctuary not only through their physical labor and their time but also with the merchandise they owned.

What is more, and here is the most impressive part. Since they committed of their time to weave and tailor and fashion the various furnishing from sunrise to sunset, they didn’t want to interrupt their sacred duty, and thus, they brought their donations early in the morning, before sunrise.

Such people are deserving of special recognition!

When Jews worshipped the golden calf, the Torah says: “They awoke the next morning.” The construction of the Sanctuary made also of gold was the rectification, for the golden calf. So to donate the gold for the home of G-d, they woke up not in the morning, but before the morning. This was the correction for the golden calf.

Why were they so generous? Because they were not searching for excuses to absolve themselves. If they were looking for rationalizations, they had plenty. They were committed to the project with their souls, hearts, and passion. They loved it. And when you love something, you do not look to do less; you look to do more.

Just as in a relationship. When you are having issues with your spouse, you might still be a mentch, fulfill your duties, but you will get away with the minimum. You will do the least you need to in order to be seen as a man, and that’s it. But when your heart is aglow with love and passion—Ah! Then you can’t do enough for your spouse. You want to add more and more.

Sometimes, in our own communal involvement, some of us look to abdicate and relinquish responsibility and commitment; we look for every excuse to relieve ourselves from responsibilities. If we are giving some time to something, we say to ourselves: Why should I give my money? I already gave my time and effort.

But the Torah inspires us with another model—a profile of people who really care, and are not searching to get off the hook. They give of their time, and they give of their wealth. Because it matters to them. They are not trying to fulfill a duty; they actually deeply care about the project and its results.

That is the type of activism, concern, and participation the Torah wishes to inspire us with.

Shabbat Shalom,  
Rabbi Yoseph Geisinsky