One of my most vivid childhood memories is of my father giving me birthday and/or Hanukah presents. Not necessarily for the presents themselves, for I have long since forgotten what most of them were, but for the way in which he would give them. Sitting in his chair in the living room, he would call me to the room. When I arrived, he would tell me that he had dropped something behind the chair (often his cigarettes though that I would definitely like to forget), and needed me to get it for him.
While you might think that this pattern would have gotten old, each time (for more years than I care to admit) it had the same result – exasperated and complaining, I would reach behind the chair to retrieve the supposed lost object, and instead would find the wrapped present.
As I read this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Terumah, I finally figured out why it is that the presents themselves have long since departed from my memory while the sense of excitement and the ‘Gotcha’ look of delight on his face remain etched on the walls of my heart and continue to be the vision I so often see of him on birthdays, holidays and other occasions.
The Torah portion begins 'Speak unto the children of Israel, that they take for Me a Terumah offering; from every man whose heart motivates him you shall take My Terumah.’ Those offerings, from amongst thirteen different raw materials, were collected and then used to build the Tabernacle. And then, instructs the Torah, ‘V’asu li mikdash, v’shachanti b’tocham – and Make for me a sanctuary, and I will dwell in them.’
While elsewhere in the Torah we learn that each person was obligated to donate half a shekel for the Tabernacle, here, the Torah is clear – the offerings are to come only from those who are motivated and moved in their hearts to donate.
The great Torah commentator, Rashi, points out that the true sense of the word Terumah has no direct English translation.
Rather, he says, it implies the separation of a portion of one’s own resources designated for a higher purpose. The raw materials were needed to build God’s Tabernacle. But, suggests Rashi, what allowed these raw materials to come together for sacred use was the way in which they were given and the intention behind the offering. Beyond the command to give, these offerings were to be a gift to God, given out of a desire to help build God’s sanctuary and to invite God’s presence to dwell in that space that was created. And, without the emotions of the heart, that sacred space could not be built and God could not dwell there. So, God’s Tabernacle was made by those who willingly gave of themselves and of their wealth. And, it is from this giving that God could ultimately dwell in the sanctuary that was created and in the people who built it.
And, so I think back to my father and the gifts he used to give. He could easily have wrapped those presents, handed them to me, and left it at that. And, just as now, I would have no recollection of what they were or the raw materials from which they were made. But, in doing so with the creative ‘behind the chair’ trick, I think he was showing me a greater sense of giving, offering his love and his heart. I now see where the materials of those presents have built for me memories that remain and moments more precious than any physical gift could ever have offered. And in so doing, he and I have a sanctuary, transcending time and creating a space in which, even in his absence, both he and God dwell with me.
Grateful for this realization and inspiration, as I prepare to usher in this Shabbat, I find myself thinking about the Terumah I should offer to God, the gifts I can bring to others, and how I want to offer them. How can my offerings to friends, relatives and loved ones extend beyond the physical to become spiritual invitations to God? How do those moments with loved ones – birthdays, holidays, or even daily interactions – build sanctuaries in which God will dwell? How can I, too, find the motivation and desire to bring my own Terumah to God and what will it include? And, in so doing will I, too, be able to build a sanctuary in which God could dwell?
Shabbat Shalom.