Parashas Terumah focuses on the construction of the Mishkan, the Sanctuary in which the Shechinah, Divine Presence, would repose among Klal Yisrael. One question requires elucidation. The parshah is unquestionably all about the construction of a holy place for the Shechinah – the Mishkan. Why, then, is the parshah called Terumah, contribution, and not Mishkan, Sanctuary?
Perhaps the Torah seeks to convey a profound message: Holiness is not merely found in the structure itself, but in the willingness and predisposition of the people to give of themselves to create it. While the MIshkan was designated as the place where the Shechinah would dwell, this structure was made possible only through Klal Yisrael’s contributuons –a contribution that was a heartfelt donation of materials reflecting each Jew’s effort, energy and dedication.
We are constantly surrounded by holiness and G-dliness. It is present; one can feel it if he concentrates intensively, but how much of this kedushah do we imbibe? From how much of it do we allow ourselves to benefit? Spiritual receptivity has limits – we create those limits. Similar to a physical vessel, when the cup is full, we are unable to add anything. Full is full.
To make room for holiness, we must give of ourselves – to contribute our time, resources, energy and even a portion of our own ego. In doing so, we create space for the Shechinah to dwell, both in the world and within ourselves. Terumah is not about the gold and silver alone; it is about the willingness to empty a part of oneself to receive G-d’s Presence.
Horav Chaim Volozhiner, zl (Nefesh HaChaim Shaar 1), explains that human contribution is the channel through which Divine light flows into our world. The holiness of the Mishkan was not intrinsic to the materials, but to the hearts that gave them freely, revealing the inner potential of each individual.
Thus, the parsha is called Terumah — not because it is about a building, but because it is about the attitude of the heart. Godliness surrounds us constantly, but, if we do not provide a space for it to enter our lives, it will just move on. Giving of ourselves creates space for the Divine. It is not how much one gives, but how he gives it. The inner contribution determines the weight and value of its external counterpart.
Chesed and tzedakah stories and their reward abound in various shapes and forms. Tzedakah tatzil mi’maves, “Charity saves from death” is a well-used maxim. That one single act of human kindness, rendered with sincerity and for no personal motive other than the mitzvah, incurs incredible reward is an indisputable verity. We may not always see immediate reward, but it is sure to come.
The following story was related by Rebbetzin Batsheva Kanievsky, a.h. wife of the Sar HaTorah, Horav Chaim, zl, daughter of Horav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv, zl, and granddaughter of the Tzadik of Yerushalayim, Horav Aryeh Levine, zl. [The Rebbetzin was a well-known tzadeikes in her own right. Her yichus, illustrious lineage, just adds to the veracity of the story and its compelling message.]
In the early to mid-twentieth century, Yerushalayim presented her inhabitants with material challenges. Housing was simple; heating and cooling, as we know them today, was non-existent. Poverty – including constant hunger — was almost a way of life. Yet, the hardy souls that comprised the Old Yishuv viewed themselves as privileged to live in the Holy Land. Rav Aryeh Levin and his Rebbetzin were among the most distinguished couples in the Yishuv, both involved in tzedakah and chesed endeavors, despite the fact that they were subject to the abject poverty that characterized the Yishuv.
Water was vital to sustenance, but sadly a luxury, since it was rationed. One morning, Rebbetzin Tziporah Chana Levin went out to the makolet, neighborhood grocery store, to see if the store had anything she could purchase. She left her baby daughter, Shaina Chaya, on the simple bed in the room that served as a bedroom/dining room. Situated next to the bed was a large basin of water that separated the bed from the rest of the room. She left the one-year-old infant in the care of her older brothers. As she stepped out of her door, an unfamiliar man, clearly poverty-stricken, approached and asked for a drink of water. She asked if he could first give her a quick few minutes to run into the makolet, to pick up a few things, and afterward, she would bring him a cup of water. The man replied that he was very thirsty, his throat was parched, and he was unable to wait a few minutes: “Please, I need water right now.”
The Rebbetzin quickly ran up the stairs to their apartment to bring a drink for the man. While she was up there, she quickly looked in on her children. The boys who were supposed to be keeping an eye on their baby sister had become involved in a game, neglecting their babysitting duties. How shocked she was that the baby had somehow moved from the bed into the basin of water! She was drowning! The Rebbetzin immediately pulled her daughter from the water and calmed her down. She then went out to thank the man for whom she had intended to get a glass of water. Had he been willing to wait, the Levin household would have experienced a horrific tragedy. The man had disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. No other conclusion offered an explanation other than that her act of selfless chesed, returning up the flights of stairs to bring the man a glass of water, had saved her child. The man was Heavenly-sent to protect the infant, Shaina Chaya.
Shaina Chaya grew up to marry Rav Yosef Sholom Elyashiv. She was Rebbetzin Kanievsky’s mother. We now understand the extraordinary merit to be derived from an act of chesed. Placing another Jew’s needs before our own personal comfort can have enormous payback. When Rav Aryeh Levin’s brother-in-law, Horav Tzvi Pesach Frank, zl, heard about the miraculous way in which Shaina Chaya had been saved from drowning, he commented that, since such a miracle occurred, he was certain that the little girl was destined for greatness. He foreshadowed the extraordinary family that she and her future husband would nurture to greatness.
