Parashat Vayakhel-P’kudei: What Kind of Giver Are You?
(D’var Torah delivered by Maayan Lev on 3/17/2023)
This week, as the book of Exodus comes to a close, we not only have a double parashah, Vayakel-Pekudei, but it’s also Shabbat HaChodesh, which I’ll mention again tomorrow. As you can see, there’s a lot going on this week, but I wanted to take this time to talk about tzedakah. There are different ways to translate the word “tzedakah,” depending on the context. But for tonight, I’m going to use the most common definition: “charity.”
The first half of our double Torah portion, Vayakhel, concerns the building of the Mishkan, the Tabernacle, which was essentially a portable version of the Temple that we could carry with us in the wilderness. It was a house for G!d. You could argue that when people had to live in tents for 40 years, that could be considered roughing it. It was definitely rustic living. And yet, that didn’t stop us from giving G!d a very fancy dwelling place. It was quite expensive!
The dwelling required many different elements. G!d provided a specific blueprint. Between the Mishkan and the priestly garments, they needed gold, silver, copper, and yarns of blue, purple, and crimson. They also needed fine linen, goat hair, tanned ram skins, dolphin skins (believe it or not), acacia wood, oil, spices, and stones.[1] It was quite a list of building materials for a nation in the middle of the wilderness. Fortunately, G!d had thought ahead.
Before the Israelites left Egypt, they asked the Egyptians for their jewelry and clothing. The Egyptians, who feared the Israelites and their G!d following the tenth plague, were happy to oblige.[2] It’s clear that the reason G!d wanted the Israelites to carry all these things with them across the sea was so they would later have the materials necessary to build the Tabernacle. But that wasn’t all these materials were used for. Before the Tabernacle was built, some of the gold was dedicated to a false god. The Israelites grew impatient in Moses’ absence and begged Aaron to make them a new god, Aaron told them to give him their gold rings, and then he used them to build the golden calf.[3] And they worshiped it! That was pretty much the opposite of how G!d intended them to use that gold!
We know what happened next. Moses saw the Golden Calf, got mad, and broke the tablets. Then he had to go back up and get new ones.[4] Something that often gets glossed over is that a lot of people died because of their involvement with the Golden Calf. But while it seemed that the survivors were forgiven, G!d actually had one additional test for the Israelites to prove that they were now loyal to HaShem. G!d asked them to donate the material for the Tabernacle. The wording here is critical: כֹּל נְדִיב לִבּוֹ. “Everyone with a generous heart.” “Everyone with a generous heart” should donate the materials necessary to build the Tabernacle.[5] While it was technically a commandment, it was only binding for those who had a generous heart. So essentially, G!d was saying that it was merely a suggested donation. It wasn’t a commandment! When we go to a museum, and we see that the entry fee is merely a suggested donation, how many people actually pay it? Surely less than 100%!
So who paid? Who gave the gifts? Actually, it seems that pretty much everyone did! There were so many donations that they ended up with far more building materials than necessary. The artisans had to beg Moses to make them stop giving![6] The Israelites had passed the test. The Tabernacle was soon “open for business,” and that’s essentially how the book of Exodus ends.[7]
It’s fair to ask though, why did so many people give? While there were surely some very generous people there, it’s hard to imagine they were all generous. Perhaps G!d compelled them to give! After all, if G!d can harden Pharaoh’s heart, why not do the reverse with the Israelites, softening their hearts? A more likely scenario though, is that many of them gave up their wealth for the same reason the Egyptians gave up their wealth. They were scared. Scared of G!d. The Egyptians feared G!d after the tenth plague, and the Israelites feared G!d following the reckoning in the aftermath of the Golden Calf episode.
And that brings things back to us. When do we give, and when do we not? And when we do give, what are our motivations?
In one of my favorite musicals, Avenue Q, there is a song about giving. It’s called “The Money Song.” One of the characters, Nicky, has become homeless, and is begging on the street for money. He runs into his friend Princeton, and asks him for a quarter. Princeton is in no mood to give, and replies, “I don’t have any change.” And so, Nicky counters: “Ok then. Give me a dollar!”[8]
He tries to appeal to Princeton’s spiritual side, singing, “Helping others brings you closer to G!d!” By the end of the song, it would seem that Princeton has become very generous. But not really. He chooses to give his money to a charity project run by his ex-girlfriend, hoping it will convince her to take him back.[9]
Does this really qualify as tzedakah? On the one hand, the money went to a great cause; nobody can argue that. On the other hand, it wasn’t given for the right reasons. Charity organizations these days often face a similar dilemma: If they receive a large donation from someone who turns out to have a troubled past such as racism or sexual assault, do they accept the money and use it to do important things, or do they reject the money so others can’t claim they have ties to a problematic individual?
In 2014, UCLA chose the latter, choosing to return a donation of $3,000,000.00 that had been meant for kidney disease research. That money could have saved lives. The problem was that it was donated by Donald Sterling, the former owner of the Los Angeles Clippers, who was revealed to be so racist that the NBA forced him to sell the team.[10] I don’t claim to have the answer for questions like these, but it’s a good reminder that not all tzedakah is created equal.
In his Mishneh Torah, Rambam warns us to be cautious about the obligation to give tzedakah more so than any other mitzvah, for tzedakah is a signifier of a righteous person.[11]
On the surface, it seems that “caution” is a strange word to use. If tzedakah is a signifier of a righteous person, surely all tzedakah is good tzedakah! But Rambam distinguishes between different kinds of tzedakah. He says that there are actually eight levels of giving![12]
The highest level of tzedakah is supporting someone by giving them a financial gift, by loaning them money, by entering into a partnership with them, or by finding them a job. This allows them to make a living for themselves so they don’t have to rely on others for additional donations. It is essentially teaching a person to fish so they will never go hungry again.
The next highest level of charity is giving an anonymous gift, where neither the giver nor the recipient know each other’s identities. You don’t get to see their happy face when you give, nor do they know to whom to feel indebted. Essentially, there is no ego involved. The only reward is knowing you have done the right thing by giving (and the other person has done the right thing by graciously accepting).
One step down from that is tzedakah where you know who the recipient is, but the recipient will never know the donor. There are still no thank you’s. And one step down from that is where the recipient knows the donor, but the donor doesn’t know the recipient.
The next level is giving to someone before you are asked to give. And below that is giving only when you are asked to. In this week’s parashah, the donations for the Tabernacle were somewhere in between these two levels of giving.
The level below that is when someone gives less than what they can afford to give, but they give it willingly.
And the lowest level of tzedakah according to Rambam is when someone gives reluctantly. In those cases, the donor does a good deed, but with a poor attitude.
It’s worth asking ourselves this Shabbat: where would our charitable donations rank on this scale? Change doesn’t happen overnight, but wherever we are on the scale, I challenge all of us, including myself, to reach the next level on the ladder.
The mitzvah isn’t necessarily bigger because you gave a larger dollar amount. It’s about the way you choose to give! It’s unfair to compare ourselves with others. The only ones we should be competing with are ourselves. I hope we can all go out and get a new personal high score.
Shabbat shalom.
[1] Exodus 46:5-10.
[2] Exodus 12:35-36.
[3] Exodus 32:1-4.
[4] Exodus 32.
[5] Exodus 35:5
[6] Exodus 36:4-7
[7] Exodus 40
[8] Avenue Q: The Musical, “The Money Song.” Hal Leonard LLC, New York, New York.
[9] Ibid.
[10] Hughes, Grant. “UCLA Cancels $3 Million Research Gift from Donald Sterling Foundation.” Bleacher Report, 29 Apr. 2014, https://bleacherreport.com/articles/2045894-ucla-cancels-3-million-research-gift-from-donald-sterling-foundation.
[11] Mishneh Torah, Aniyim 10
[12] Ibid.