The outpouring of financial support for the Mishkan was overwhelming. They could not stop the people from donating. This is an anomaly in the world of fundraising. Anyone who has ever attempted to raise funds for a worthy cause will agree that it is often like pulling teeth. Some give more readily than others, but, for most people, separating themselves from the contents of their wallets requires real effort. Yet this reality did not play itself out during the appeal for the Mishkan. Then, everyone came forward immediately. Not only did they give willingly, they gave to the point that Moshe Rabbeinu was forced to stop them. They simply could not divest themselves of their gold and silver quickly enough.
What motivated this extraordinary transformation? HoRav Shimshon Pincus, zl, explains that this mitzvah was unlike any other. The Mishkan was not merely a sacred structure; it was the vehicle through which the Shechinah would rest b’socham – within them – b’toch kol echad v’echad, within the heart of every individual Jew. They were not just building a Mishkan. They were establishing a living relationship with Hashem Himself. And who would not give everything he has to achieve such a bond?
The people who contributed toward the Mishkan understood that the Shechinah would dwell not only in a structure of gold and wood, but b’socham – within their own hearts. Thus, their generosity was boundless. They were not donating to a cause, but were preparing a place for Hashem in their very lives.
Perhaps this is the problem with fundraising: packaging. If we would present the goal and purpose as what it ultimately is — creating a relationship with Hashem, success might be easier to achieve. When someone furthers the study of Torah, he is preparing a home for Hashem. Since the destruction of the Bais HaMikdash, Hashem’s dwelling place on this world is the daled amos shel halachah, the four cubits of Torah study.
