Only Yours: On Gifts, Offerings & Lovers

Parshat Terumah is all about gifts. Contributions. And the structure being created through them. This brings to mind a beautiful idea of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l. He said,

Where then did Jewish strength lie if not in numbers? The Torah gives an answer of surpassing beauty. God tells Moses: Do not count Jews. Ask them to give, and then count the contributions. In terms of numbers we are small. But in terms of our contributions, we are vast. In almost every age, Jews have given something special to the world: the Torah, the literature of the prophets, the poetry of the Psalms, the rabbinic wisdom of Mishnah, Midrash and Talmud, the vast medieval library of commentaries and codes, philosophy and mysticism.

And this is exactly what happens in our parsha. The people are asked to give, and they do. They give magnanimously, until such time that Moses tells them they need to stop (which occurs after this parsha)- because they are bringing too much.

וַיֹּאמְרוּ֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֣ה לֵּאמֹ֔ר מַרְבִּ֥ים הָעָ֖ם לְהָבִ֑יא מִדֵּ֤י הָֽעֲבֹדָה֙ לַמְּלָאכָ֔ה אֲשֶׁר־צִוָּ֥ה יְהֹוָ֖ה לַעֲשֹׂ֥ת אֹתָֽהּ׃ and said to Moses, “The people are bringing more than is needed for the tasks entailed in the work that the LORD has commanded to be done.”

וַיְצַ֣ו מֹשֶׁ֗ה וַיַּעֲבִ֨ירוּ ק֥וֹל בַּֽמַּחֲנֶה֮ לֵאמֹר֒ אִ֣ישׁ וְאִשָּׁ֗ה אַל־יַעֲשׂוּ־ע֛וֹד מְלָאכָ֖ה לִתְרוּמַ֣ת הַקֹּ֑דֶשׁ וַיִּכָּלֵ֥א הָעָ֖ם מֵהָבִֽיא׃ Moses thereupon had this proclamation made throughout the camp: “Let no man or woman make further effort toward gifts for the sanctuary!” So the people stopped bringing:

-Exodus 36: 5-6

The idea of being counted through our contributions brings to mind one of my favorite Rabbi Hanina ben Dosa stories, which appears in Kohelet Rabbah 1:1. (Below is the Soncino translation). Note that Rabbi Hanina ben Dosa was very poor.

The words of Koheleth, the son of David, king in Jerusalem (1,1). That is what Scripture declares by the Holy Spirit through Solomon, king of Israel: Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings (Prov 22, 29). Once R. Hanina b. Dosa saw the inhabitants of his city taking vowed offerings and free-will offerings up to Jerusalem. He exclaimed, “All are taking vowed offerings and free-will offerings up to Jerusalem, but I take nothing!” What did he do? He went out to the waste land of his city and saw there a stone which he chipped, chiselled, and polished. He then said, “Behold, I take it upon myself to convey it to Jerusalem.” He sought to hire workmen, and five men chanced to come his way. He asked them, “Will you carry up this stone for me to Jerusalem?” They answered, “Give us five sela’s and we will carry it up to Jerusalem.” He wanted to give them the money but he had none with him at the time; so they left him and departed. The Holy One, blessed be He, arranged for five angels to appear to him in the likeness of men. He asked them, “Will you carry up this stone for me?” They answered, “Give us five sela’s and we will carry your stone up for you to Jerusalem, but on condition that you place your hand and finger with ours.” He placed his hand and finger with theirs and they found themselves standing in Jerusalem. He wanted to pay them their hire but could not find them. He entered the Hall of Hewn Stone and inquired about them. [The men in the Hall] said to him, “Probably Ministering Angels carried your stone up to Jerusalem,” and they applied to him this text, “Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings’ (melakim) - read the phrase as “He shall stand before angels (mal’akim).

When I was a child I dreamed about bringing a similar gift to God- something that I found, created, polished and would offer up. I loved that in this story even a person who was poor and could only offer a stone was beloved by God, and that his offering was beloved as well.

Let’s return to our current moment- the building of the Mishkan, the tabernacle. Why is everyone giving? They give to share in a collective vision, a national building project, creating God’s sanctuary on earth.

But not only that. For there is a different way to understand Exodus 25:8-

וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם׃ And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them.

Rabbi Moses Alshekh of the 16th century states (as brought down in the Rabbi Chaim Miller Torah, which is my favorite)

They should make a Sanctuary (dedicated) to Me and I will dwell among them. It would seem more accurate for the text to read “and I will dwell in it,” in the singular, referring to the Sanctuary.

“Them” refers to the children of Israel, charging them with creating a dwelling within their hearts for God, inviting God to “dwell among them.”

Rabbi Meir Loeb Weisser of the 19th century further reflects

Rashi (v.9) notes that the obligation to build a Sanctuary applies for future generations as well. This means, metaphorically speaking, that the people of every generation have the obligation and the ability to cultivate their hearts and minds as inner sanctuaries dedicated to the Divine.

This is the concept expressed in my favorite zemer, בלבבי משכן אבנה.

Here are the words:

בלבבי משכן אבנה
להדר כבודו
ובמשכן מזבח אשים
לקרני הודו

ולנר תמיד אקח לי
את אש העקידה
ולקרבן אקריב לו את נפשי
את נפשי היחידה

In my heart I will build a sanctuary
to glorify His honor,
In this temple I will place an altar
to raise up His splendor.

And I will take the eternal flame,
the fire of the Akeidah [binding of Isaac]
and as a sacrifice I will offer my soul,
my unique and only soul. 

So what is it that we ultimately offer God? Ourselves. Our souls.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik elaborates on that in Halakhic Man. I explored this in depth here; I’m going to provide select excerpts below.

But man himself symbolizes, on the one hand, the most perfect and complete type of existence, the image of God, and, on the other hand, the most terrible chaos and void to reign over creation. The contradiction that one finds in the macrocosm between ontic beauty and perfection and monstrous "nothingness" also appears in the microcosm- in man-for the latter incorporates within himself the most perfect creation and the most unimaginable chaos and void, light and darkness, the abyss and the law, a coarse, turbid being and a clear, lucid existence, the beast and the image of God. All human thought has grappled with this strange dualism that is so pronounced in man and has sought to overcome it....

Judaism declares that man stands at the crossroads and wonders about the path he shall take. Before him there is an awesome alternative- the image of God or the beast of prey, the crown of creation or the bogey of existence, the nobles of creatures or a degenerate creature, the image of the man of God or the profile of Nietzsche's "superman"- and it is up to man to decide and choose.....The most fundamental principle of all is that man must create himself. It is this idea that Judaism introduced into the world.

-Halakhic Man, page 109

When we do teshuva (repent) we are also engaging in an act of self-creation.

Repentance, according to the halakhic view, is an act of creation- self-creation. The severing of one's psychic identity with one's previous "I," and the creation of a new "I," possessor of a new consciousness, a new heart and spirit, different desires, longings, goals- this is the meaning of that repentance compounded of regret over the past and resolve for the future."

Ibid, page 111

To turn to a completely secular source for a moment, this idea is also expressed in the Jessie J song “Masterpiece.” (I am probably the only person in WERQ class who connects this song with the Rav, but there you are. That’s me.) These are some of the lyrics:

I still fall on my face sometimes and I
Can't color inside the lines 'cause
I'm perfectly incomplete
I'm still working on my masterpiece and I
I wanna hang with the greatest gotta
Way to go, but it's worth the wait, no
You haven't seen the best of me
I'm still working on my masterpiece

Offering God ourselves is hard. It’s the hardest thing any of us will ever do. Because it requires surrender, self-restraint and self defeat. There’s what I want and then there’s what God wants of me. There’s what I desire and what God wants me to do. The tension between these two things is what life is. It’s difficult, it’s painful, and it hurts.

There’s a song that first showed up in the movie version of “A Walk to Remember” (which was adapted off of the Nicholas Sparks novel). In the movie, it’s about a guy. But I think it can be seen as a song about our relationship to God. (It was also my ringtone for all of eleventh grade, including an embarrassing time when it rang in דינים class, but that’s neither here nor there.)

The song is called “Only Hope.”

Here are the lyrics:

There's a song that's inside of my soul
It's the one that I've tried to write over and over again
I'm awake in the infinite cold
But You sing to me over and over and over again

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray
To be only Yours- I pray
To be only Yours
I know now You're my only hope

Sing to me the song of the stars
Of your galaxy dancing and laughing and laughing again
When it feels like my dreams are so far
Sing to me of the plans that you have for me over again

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray
To be only Yours- I pray
To be only Yours- I know now You're my only hope

I give you my destiny
I'm giving you all of me
I want your symphony
Singing in all that I am
At the top of my lungs
I'm giving it back

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray
To be only Yours- I pray
To be only Yours- I pray
To be only Yours I know now You're my only hope

We give ourselves to God because we love God. And that brings me to a different idea discussed in this week’s parsha- that of the cherubim, כרובים. They are described in Exodus 25: 18-20.

וְעָשִׂ֛יתָ שְׁנַ֥יִם כְּרֻבִ֖ים זָהָ֑ב מִקְשָׁה֙ תַּעֲשֶׂ֣ה אֹתָ֔ם מִשְּׁנֵ֖י קְצ֥וֹת הַכַּפֹּֽרֶת׃ Make two cherubim of gold—make them of hammered work—at the two ends of the cover.

וַ֠עֲשֵׂ֠ה כְּר֨וּב אֶחָ֤ד מִקָּצָה֙ מִזֶּ֔ה וּכְרוּב־אֶחָ֥ד מִקָּצָ֖ה מִזֶּ֑ה מִן־הַכַּפֹּ֛רֶת תַּעֲשׂ֥וּ אֶת־הַכְּרֻבִ֖ים עַל־שְׁנֵ֥י קְצוֹתָֽיו׃ Make one cherub at one end and the other cherub at the other end; of one piece with the cover shall you make the cherubim at its two ends.

וְהָי֣וּ הַכְּרֻבִים֩ פֹּרְשֵׂ֨י כְנָפַ֜יִם לְמַ֗עְלָה סֹכְכִ֤ים בְּכַנְפֵיהֶם֙ עַל־הַכַּפֹּ֔רֶת וּפְנֵיהֶ֖ם אִ֣ישׁ אֶל־אָחִ֑יו אֶ֨ל־הַכַּפֹּ֔רֶת יִהְי֖וּ פְּנֵ֥י הַכְּרֻבִֽים׃ The cherubim shall have their wings spread out above, shielding the cover with their wings. They shall confront each other, the faces of the cherubim being turned toward the cover.

Those of us who attended Jewish day school were only taught one version of what the cherubim were. We were taught that they had the faces of children, and that they turned towards one another when the Children of Israel behaved well, and faced away from each other when that was not the case.

But there’s another interpretation of what the cherubim looked like, and it’s one that speaks to me much more. (Thank you Rebbetzin Sarah Greer for teaching it to me.)

See Yoma 54a:

אָמַר רַב קַטִּינָא: בְּשָׁעָה שֶׁהָיוּ יִשְׂרָאֵל עוֹלִין לָרֶגֶל, מְגַלְּלִין לָהֶם אֶת הַפָּרוֹכֶת, וּמַרְאִין לָהֶם אֶת הַכְּרוּבִים שֶׁהָיוּ מְעוֹרִים זֶה בָּזֶה, וְאוֹמְרִים לָהֶן: רָאוּ חִבַּתְכֶם לִפְנֵי הַמָּקוֹם כְּחִבַּת זָכָר וּנְקֵבָה.

Continuing the previous discussion, Rav Ketina said: When the Jewish people would ascend for one of the pilgrimage Festivals, the priests would roll up the curtain for them and show them the cherubs, which were clinging and entwined with one another, and say to them: See how you are beloved before God, like the love of a male and female. The two cherubs symbolize the Holy One, Blessed be He, and the Jewish people.

According to this interpretation, the story of the cherubim is the story of soulmates. You have a man and a woman entwined with one another- yes, in the Holy of Holies, the Kodesh Kedoshim- and this is the metaphor for the passion and depth of the union between us and God. We are lovers.

In the time of Solomon’s temple, there were additional cherubim drawn on the walls. When the gentiles destroyed the temple, they did not understand what they were seeing- or the holiness that came with it. To them, sexuality was a dirty, debased thing, and so they could only look at it through that lens- as opposed to seeing the union between lovers as the passionate, uplifting, sensual and exquisitely profound experience that it is.

If you continue to Yoma 54b you see this described:

וּכְתִיב: ״כְּמַעַר אִישׁ וְלוֹיוֹת״. מַאי ״כְּמַעַר אִישׁ וְלוֹיוֹת״? אָמַר רַבָּה בַּר רַב שֵׁילָא: And it is written: “According to the space of each with loyot” (I Kings 7:36). The Gemara asks: What is the meaning of: “According to the space of each with loyot”? Rabba bar Rav Sheila said:

כְּאִישׁ הַמְעוֹרֶה בַּלְּוָיָיה שֶׁלּוֹ. אָמַר רֵישׁ לָקִישׁ: בְּשָׁעָה שֶׁנִּכְנְסוּ גּוֹיִם לַהֵיכָל רָאוּ כְּרוּבִים הַמְעוֹרִין זֶה בָּזֶה, הוֹצִיאוּן לַשּׁוּק וְאָמְרוּ: יִשְׂרָאֵל הַלָּלוּ, שֶׁבִּרְכָתָן בְּרָכָה וְקִלְלָתָן קְלָלָה — יַעַסְקוּ בִּדְבָרִים הַלָּלוּ? מִיָּד הִזִּילוּם, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר: ״כׇּל מְכַבְּדֶיהָ הִזִּילוּהָ כִּי רָאוּ עֶרְוָתָהּ״. It means like a man joined and clinging to his livaya, his partner, i.e., his wife. In other words, the cherubs appeared to be embracing one another. Reish Lakish said: When gentiles destroyed the Second Temple and entered the Sanctuary, they saw these drawings of cherubs clinging to one another. They peeled them from the wall, took them out to the market, and said: These Jews, whose blessing is a blessing and whose curse is a curse, due to their great fear of God, should they be occupied with such matters, making images of this kind? They immediately debased and destroyed them, as it is stated: “All who honored her debase her because they have seen her nakedness” (Lamentations 1:8).

Our relationship to God is passionate. God demands things of us- He asks for our very souls. And it’s difficult to give these things to Him because we don’t want to. We want to live in accordance to our desires, to what we think is right, and we don’t want to surrender to His will.

But that’s what this parsha is about. It’s about making space for God in our hearts and in our minds. It’s about deciding to build Him a palace, one that travels with us wherever we may go. To offer Him whatever we can- whether it’s a polished stone or everything that makes us who we are. It’s about loving Him, and filling up all the broken pieces of who we are with this intense love of Him and for Him. It’s about wanting to be His and trying our hardest to live up to His expectations for us.

It’s also about failing and coming back to Him, having created ourselves anew.

This life is our attempt to work on ourselves- to make ourselves the masterpieces God knows we can be.

It’s hard. It’s so hard. I find myself teetering on the brink of a precipice more often than not- what I want as opposed to what I know I need to do.

It’s a test of loyalty. A test of how much I can want without acting on that desire. And every day it begins again.

And so, every day I begin again, too.