Parashas Terumah – How to be Blessed By Rabbi Shimon Fridmann

The first commandment of the Parasha is quite enigmatic: Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying: Tell the Bnei Yisrael to bring “for Me” a “contribution”; From each giving person as his heart prompted him “you shall take My contribution.” And these are the “contributions” that you shall “take” from them: gold, silver, and copper. (Exodus 25:1-3) Even in Hebrew the language is tortuous. If the purpose of the donations were to build the Mishkan, why wasn’t the appeal made with a more clear and simple language? Also, the Pasuk seems to promote that the campaign has conflicting aspects; a charitable one and a compulsory one. Indeed, Hashem orders Moshe “You Shall take My Terumah,” which clearly denotes the compulsory aspect. Conversely, “From each giving person as his heart prompted him” points to the voluntary aspect of the endeavor. Moreover, the word “Terumah” is also ambiguous, as its accurate translation is somewhere between “a levy” and “a contribution”, which further enhances the ambiguity of the directive. This matches well the fact Hashem calls it “My Terumah” denoting that Bnei Yisrael were only ordered to return to Hashem “His belongings”. Contrarily, Moshe is ordered to only accept donations from people that give full heartedly. Were those not returning “Hashem’s belongings” wholeheartedly exempt from their obligations? Furthermore, the Pasuk doesn’t elaborate on how Moshe was supposed to carry out this aspect of the order. How was he supposed to discern between a person that gives half-heartedly to the one that gives wholeheartedly? Rashi notes: “All the items were brought as voluntary gifts, each person giving as his heart prompted him, except for the silver, which was brought by all in equal quantities, a half shekel by each person.” Why was the silver different than all other donations? And why were they ordered all, rich and poor, the same amount, a Half Shekel each? The Pasuk informs that the purpose of the campaign was: They shall make a Sanctuary for Me and I will dwell amongst them. (Exodus 25:8) This is a strange commandment! Does Hashem require shelter? Is a physical structure required to establish Hashem omnipresence? Didn’t Hashem say: “Were I hungry, I would not tell you, for Mine is the world and all it holds”. Everything in the world belongs to Hashem, even our very lives. The second part of the Pasuk introduces some level of clarification. The Structure is NOT intended to be a place for Hashem to dwell, but rather a place for Hashem in order to dwell within us. In the spiritual sense, it is us who are homeless, and in need to find our way back home. The commandment to build a sanctuary is an invitation to set aside a place in which we can tap into holiness. In other words, Hashem is honoring us by dwelling among us. Since Hashem is the source of all blessings, we will benefit from His protection and Blessings. The Iben Ezra explains: It is called a Sanctuary [literally “a place of holiness” as the root of Mikdash is Kadosh] because it was the dwelling place of the Holy Name. In biblical Hebrew, kadosh (holy) means separated, out of the ordinary, different – in the sense of unique. The source of holiness is Hashem, who is unique in every way – separate from the constraints of time, space and matter that rule human experience. In our quest to emulate Hashem, to transcend the limitations of the human condition, we are given the opportunity to create islands of holiness, of unique separation and otherness, in all three dimensions: Shabbat and holidays are islands of holiness in time. Laws that regulate such physical spheres as kashruth and ritual purity create islands of holiness in the material world. The commandment to create a sanctuary, a physical place of holiness, allows us to redefine our relationship to space. To understand this concept, we need to review the burning bush episode. When Moshe first saw the burning bush that was not consumed, he came to understand it as a symbol of transcendence. He understood that the Hashem who spoke to him from the burning bush was beyond time, and unconstrained by the laws of physics. What he did not immediately understand was that Hashem had invited him into a holy place, invited him to partake of the holiness. For the first time in human history, Hashem set aside a physical space of holiness, but this was not something Moshe understood intuitively. Therefore, Hashem had to invite Moshe in. Moshe was taught to understand the holiness of space, to acknowledge and respect it, but also to stand within it and to take part in it. This unique place of holiness was marked for all time by the sneh (bush) that burned but was not consumed. Moshe had been tending the flocks in what was known as “the mountain of Hashem, at mount Horev”; after Hashem spoke to him from the burning bush and created this island of holiness, this place became known for all time as Sinai – a word etymologically related to the bush (sneh). On that very spot, human history was changed forever: The word of Hashem burst forth. The revelation Moshe experienced at that spot – of the ability to communicate with Hashem who transcends time, space, and matter – would be repeated, for all the Jewish People. The sneh (bush) becomes Sinai. The content of the Revelation that occurred at that place is preserved on the Tablets of Stone, which are then placed in the Ark at the heart of the Sanctuary: The holiness of the place called Sinai is replicated in the creation of the Sanctuary, a unique place that is governed by its own laws of time, space, and matter. Everything we have said is hinted in the word sneh (bush), which is the bud from where everything bloomed. Indeed, the numerical value of Hasneh (“the bush” as written in the Pasuk) is 120 [ה ְנ ְס ,[and Hashem spoke to Moshe from the burning bush 4 times. 4×120=480. In our Parasha we were ordered to donate the silver Shkalim, all had to give the same amount. Shkalim [ים ְל ְק ְש [numerical value is 480. The first teaching is: a Mitzva is not a burden, but out of love, through the Mitzvos Hashem guides us to avoid life downturns and even evil spirits. Giving the Shkalim benefits the donor, as it guarantees him Parnassa, since Pas (bread) [ת פ [numerical value is also 480. It avoids him to be stricken by the angel of poverty (Lilith) which name’s value is also 480. This is only the tip of the Iceberg, but we get a different prospective and realize how fortunate we are to have these commandments. Above all, it elevates and sanctifies the person as it allows him to tap into the well of sanctity represented by the Sneh and Sinai [Sinai [י ְינ ְס = [130, which is 120 like sneh plus the 10 commandments]. Therefore, the Torah uses the word Terumah, which literally means “will elevate”. The word charity does not exist in Hebrew, as the Zohar says, when a wealthy person gives money to a poor, the true benefactor is the poor. The rich gave a materialistic possession, but the poor removes part of the donor’s gehinam and will enable him to partake the blessing of success. Therefore, giving Tsedaka is a good investment, but certainly not charity [Tsedaka means Justice] Let’s now review the Pasuk: “they will take for me a Terumah” [ה רומ תְי לְְחו ק י [the numerical value is 815 the exact numerical value of “Praying with a Minyan” [ורְב ְצ ְבְה ְל ְפ ְת .[The path to elevation and closeness to Hashem starts by praying with a Minyan. The benefit is “Shefa, Bracha, Hatzlacha” [ה ְח ְל ְצ ְה,ְה ְכ ְר ְב,ְע ְפ ְש[ which also amount to 815. In other words, praying with a Minyan is the source of all blessings! Here’s an inspiring story: During the “intermediate days” of the festival of Sukkot of 1798, an armed officer arrived in Liozna to arrest Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the founder of the Chabad movement. Deciding that it would be advisable at this point to take the biblical advice “Hide yourself for a brief moment” (Isaiah 26:20), the Rebbe slipped out of a side door. The officer returned to his headquarters empty-handed. Back in the house, the Rebbe decided that if the agent were to return, he would allow himself to be arrested. Some say that he decided this only after consultation with Rabbi Shmuel Munkes, one of his close Chassidim, who happened to be in the Rebbe’s home at the time. Reb Shmuel reputedly said to the Rebbe: “If you are a true Rebbe, you have nothing to fear by being arrested. If you are not, you deserve whatever they will do to you (!), for what right did you have to deprive thousands of Chassidim from enjoying the pleasures of this world?” When the officer appeared on the day after Simchat Torah, which fell on Thursday that year, the Rebbe did not hide. Within a few hours he was already seated in the infamous “Black Mary,” the carriage which was reserved by the Czarist regime for rebels who were under capital sentence. Covered on all sides with heavy black metal panels, and with no windows whatsoever, it was designed to cast dread on all those who saw it. Guarded by heavily armed soldiers, the ironclad black carriage pulled out of Liozna on Thursday night and clanked its fearsome way down the highway to Petersburg, via Vitebsk and Nevel. At half past ten the next morning, some six hours before candle-lighting time, the Rebbe asked that they stop where they were until after Shabbat. The officer in charge ignored his request. A moment later the axles of the carriage broke. No sooner had they repaired them, that one of the horses collapsed and died. Fresh horses were brought, but they could not move the carriage from its place. By this time the gendarmes gathered that it would be impossible to press on with their journey against the Rebbe’s will, so they asked their prisoner if they could detour to a nearby village and spend the next day there. The Rebbe refused but did agree that the carriage be moved off the highway to an adjacent field. The spot at which the Rebbe spent that Shabbat is about three miles from the village of Seliba-Rudnia, which is near the town of Nevel. An old Chassid who survived into the twentieth century—Reb Michael of Nevel—used to relate that he knew Chassidim who were able to point out the exact spot at which the Rebbe had spent that lonely Shabbat. He himself had gone there to see it with his own eyes. All the way there he had seen old and drooping trees on both sides of the road, but that memorable spot was marked by a tall tree with luxuriant foliage.

By Rabbi Shimon Fridmann – Din Torah Of North Miami Beach

305.399.0393 * [email protected]

Print Friendly, PDF & Email