Jewish institutions are like New York City roadways – they require regular, ongoing maintenance.
As you’ve probably guessed, the word “maintenance” in the previous sentence is an elegant way of saying “money…”
Fundraising is an integral part of any shul, school, or hesed organization. It is the oxygen of Jewish communal life, the only way our institutions can run effectively – or run at all, for that matter.
This month, we read about the first fundraiser in Jewish history – the call for donations for the construction of the Mishkan. As Beneh Yisrael encamped at Mount Sinai, they were commanded to construct a mobile sanctuary that would serve as the site of offering korbanot (sacrifices), and as the site of Gd’s residence, until the permanent Mikdash would be built in Jerusalem. The Mishkan was an exquisite structure, and required a great deal of funding – acacia wood, gold, silver, copper, and even precious stones to be embroidered on the special garments of the kohen gadol. So Gd instructed Moshe to make an appeal, asking the people to donate.
The people responded generously – so much so, in fact, that Moshe announced that they should stop bringing materials. We may reliably assume that this is the only time in Jewish history that prospective donors were told to stop giving…
Let us carefully examine the way Gd formulated this first fundraiser, in order to learn about the Torah’s approach to giving – which is not only a cornerstone of Jewish communal life, but also a cornerstone of Jewish values and spirituality.
The Birds on the Roof
Gd instructed Moshe to command the people “veyikhu li terumah” – which literally means, “that they should take for Me a donation.” Significantly, the act of donating is referred to in the Torah with the term veyikhu – “taking.” Because from a Torah perspective, giving charity is actually “taking.” When we give, we benefit far more than we sacrifice.
Any material assets we own are not necessarily secure. Money can be lost, stolen, misused, misappropriated, or confiscated. There are many unfortunate but true stories of people who went to bed wealthy and woke up poor. Natural disasters, Heaven forbid, can destroy buildings and everything in them. None of our material blessings are assured to remain intact and in our possession for another day. But the goodness we perform with our material blessings can never be taken away from us. It is the most secure and profitable investment possible. Every penny we spend to help the needy, to help our fellow Jews here or around the world, to support Torah and Torah observance – is put away into our eternal account. With every donation we make, we lose a little money but gain eternal blessings and rewards.
The Ben Ish Hai (Rav Yosef Haim of Baghdad, 1833-1909) once taught this concept by way of an amusing analogy, posing the following question: If ten birds are sitting on a roof, and someone shoots two of them, how many birds are left on the roof?
The instinctive answer, of course, is that eight birds are left. But this is wrong.
The right answer is that two birds are left on the roof – the two dead birds, because the other eight fly away as soon as the first shot is fired…
The same is true of money. The assets that one “kills,” that he gives away to charity, are, ironically, the only assets that remain with him forever. All the rest is prone to “fly away,” to be lost as a result of unforeseen circumstances and events beyond his control. Only the money that we give is the money that stays with us for all time.
Charity as a Two-Way Street
This month we also read Parashat Mishpatim, which speaks of the precious mitzvah of lending to people in need. The Torah states, “Im kesef talveh et ami, et he’ani imach – If you lend money to my nation, to the poor who is with you…” (Shemot 22:24). The verse proceeds to forbid applying pressure to a debtor if it is known that he cannot yet repay the loan, and charging interest. Of particular relevance to us in this context, however, is the phrase “et he’ani imach.” While this phrase is commonly translated as, “the poor who is with you,” some suggested reading the word “imach” (“with you”) as referring to the money which one lends to his struggling fellow, despite the risk of it never being returned. The Torah says about this money, “imach” – it is “with you,” forever.
From a pure business perspective, lending to a person who is unemployed and already in debt, drowning in bills he can’t pay, is a terrible idea. But from the Torah’s perspective, not only is this not a bad idea – it is the best investment a person could make. Its dividends are incalculable, and are distributed for all eternity, in this world and the next.
This concept is alluded to also in another section we read this month – the section of Shekalim, which tells of the half-shekel tax (mahatzit hashekel) that each individual was required to give toward the Bet Hamikdash. The announcement to send in the funds would be made at the beginning of the month of Adar, and so, in commemoration, we read this section on the Shabbat preceding the first of Adar.
The Torah commands, “Venatenu” – that each person should “give” this amount to the Temple treasury. It has been noted that this word (spelled vav, nun, tav, nun, vav) is a palindrome – meaning, it can be read both backward and forward (like the English words “racecar” and “radar”). This teaches that giving is a two-way street. The donor gives but also receives – and, in fact, he receives far more than the amount he gives.
Giving to a Person of Prominence
Lest one think that this is just a nice, feel-good idea devised by rabbis as a clever, manipulative fundraising strategy, this concept actually finds halachic expression.
A man and woman become halachically betrothed through the man’s giving the woman an object of value for the purpose of betrothal. As we know, this is commonly done under the huppah when the groom puts a ring on the bride’s finger after declaring, “You are hereby betrothed to me with this ring…” It is through the bride’s receiving an object of value from the groom with the intention of becoming betrothed that the betrothal takes effect. This is what creates the first stage of the marital bond, which is then completed through nisu’in, the precise definition of which lies beyond the scope of our discussion here.
In order for kiddusin (betrothal) to take effect, the groom must give something to the bride; if the bride gives an object to value to the groom, even for the stated purpose of kiddushin, this has no halachic effect. (This is why, as an aside, when the bride wishes to give the groom a ring, I instruct her to do so later, after the huppah ceremony, in order to make it perfectly clear that it is only the groom’s handing her a ring that effectuates the betrothal.) Notably, however, the Gemara makes one fascinating exception to this rule. If the groom is an adam hashuv – a prominent, distinguished individual, then he can betroth the bride by receiving a gift from her. When we present a gift to a prestigious person, and that person accepts it, we receive honor. We derive far more benefit from our gift to a dignitary than he receives from it. Therefore, when a woman presents a gift to a man of distinction for the purpose of betrothal, this constitutes a halachically legitimate and effective act of kiddushin, and the couple is betrothed.
While this halachah is never actually put into practice, given the technical difficulty in defining the term “adam hashuv” and determining the specific credentials to qualify as a “prominent person” in this regard – it should reshape the way we think about charity.
Returning to the parashah, Gd commands, “veyikhu li terumah” – we should bring donations “to Me.” Gd is emphasizing the immense privilege of tzedakah, that we are given the opportunity to present a gift to Him, who is, of course, infinitely greater than the most “prominent” human being. Every time we give money to our fellow who is struggling, every time we make a donation to a religious institution or hesed organization, we are giving a gift to the Almighty Himself – and so we are the ones who are receiving, not the person or institution receiving the funds.
Giving as a Religious Calling
Commenting on these words – “veyikhu li terumah” – Rashi writes that the word “li” implies “lishmi,” that the donations should be made for the sake of Gd.
Much has been written about Rashi’s intent in writing these words, but for our purposes, it suffices to note that he depicts giving as a spiritual act, something we do not just for the recipient, but as part of our devoted service of Gd.
Of course, giving fulfills a mitzvah irrespective of one’s intent. In fact, the Gemara teaches that if a person has a hole in his pocket, and money falls and is discovered by a pauper who uses it to feed his family, the person who lost the money is credited with a mitzvah. Supporting an institution by participating in a Chinese auction is a wonderful mitzvah even if one buys tickets in the hope of winning the prizes. Nevertheless, we should aspire to give “lishmi,” as a religious calling. We should give not with ulterior motives, and not even out of compassion – but rather because we are here in this world to give, not to take; to contribute, not to indulge; to serve others, not to demand things from them.
In short, we should not simply give generously – but we should see this as part of the very purpose for which Hashem brought us here, and make our lives about contributing to the world around us.
As in the case of the Mishkan – the first Jewish institution in history – giving is what creates holiness, and what makes us worthy of the divine presence in our midst. It is not only about compassion, and not about experiencing the gratification of giving – but about living for the sake of serving Hashem and connecting with Him through our selflessness.