When I was a child, I heard some version of the following folktale:
There once was a town who wanted to throw a celebration for their rabbi. He had served the community for many years and to say thank you, the town decided they wanted to give the rabbi a gift. What would the gift be? They would fill a giant barrel with wine and present it to the rabbi. Each household would bring one bottle of wine to the barrel in the center of the town and they would pour it in the barrel, and with everyone’s small contribution of wine, they would be able to give the rabbi a full barrel of wine.
So they placed a giant barrel in the town and every day, people brought their wine from their homes to add to the barrel.
On the day of the celebration, the entire town gathered to eat together, to dance, and to present their rabbi with the gift. One of the townspeople filled a cup from the barrel and gave it to the rabbi. To shouts of l’chaim from the community, the rabbi took a sip. Suddenly, the rabbi’s face fell. The rabbi looked around at the people, completely puzzled, and the townspeople noticed something was strange.
“What’s wrong?” the townspeople asked.
“I thought this would be wine,” said the rabbi, “but this is just water!”
It turns out that each person had thought to themselves, “Why should I bring wine? I am sure no one will notice if there is just a little bit of water in a huge barrel of wine.” But the problem was that everyone had that same thought! Instead of everyone generously giving, each individual person assumed that what they contributed didn’t matter.
But of course, it did.
In this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Pekudei, we see the mishkan (tabernacle) finally being completed. The Torah tells us in language reminiscent of God’s completion of creation:
וַתֵּכֶל כָּל-עֲבֹדַת מִשְׁכַּן אֹהֶל מוֹעֵד וַיַּעֲשׂוּ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל כְּכֹל אֲשֶׁר צִוָּה יְהוָה אֶת-מֹשֶׁה כֵּן עָשׂוּ
Thus was completed all the work of the Tabernacle of the Tent of Meeting. The people of Israel did so; just as God had commanded Moses, so they did (Exodus 39:32).
The Italian rabbi and commentator Seforno, who wrote in the 16th Century, draws our attention to the phrase v’asu b’nei Israel, that the people of Israel did [the work]. Seforno says that the phrase means that the work to build the mishkan was done by all of the people of Israel. Some people donated their money, some did the physical labor, and some gave of their skills in other ways. Each Israelite had some kind of share in the completion of the mishkan.
With Seforno’s read, we can reason that without each person’s generous giving of their time, skills, and money, the mishkan may never have been completed. Only with everyone working together did we create a place for God’s presence amongst the people.
The story of the mishkan is the exact opposite of the folktale, though perhaps they share a lesson—what we do as individuals does matter. Our individual contributions make a difference on the final result.
When I worked as a client services representative at a biotechnology company in Cambridge, the management and leadership of the company reminded us all the time that at every level, in every department, each person’s contribution mattered. Someone was getting potentially life-saving testing because of the work that we were doing. Though my own skills were very different from the lab technicians and the computational biologists and the sales representatives and the research and development scientists, our work collectively contributed to something greater, far greater when we each gave of our own particular talents and abilities. We might not have been building a mishkan, but our work still had a greater purpose.
I find it so incredible that so much of the book of Shemot (Exodus) is dedicated to the mishkan, to this building project that the Israelites throw themselves into with such enthusiasm so that God can have a physical place to dwell amongst them. God could have decided to manifest Godself through other means, but it’s clear that God wants the people of Israel to build something themselves. In building the mishkan, the people learn that they are capable of creating something. They no longer need to just survive slavery. They learn that they can create something together, mirroring the way in which God created the world. Creating is this divine gift that we can all tap into. And also they (and we) recognize that each of us is not all-skilled or all-powerful. But together we are incredibly skilled and incredibly powerful.
It is easy (and normal) to feel sometimes like our contributions don’t matter, like the time and money and skills we donate don’t matter. It is especially easy to feel that way when the work we are trying to do pits us against huge challenges. It is also easy to slip into that feeling when the change is incremental or imperceptible. It is easy to feel like one of the townspeople and lean into the temptation to just give water when we could give wine. But the Torah reminds us of what can happen when we combine all of our different resources, skills, and talents. Look at the mishkan, says the Torah. It’s truly amazing, and not just because it’s a place for God to dwell, but because of how we each contributed to build it. It’s so amazing, when the mishkan is done, Moses reviews the work and blesses the people, just as God reviews the work of creation and blesses Shabbat, the day of completion.
וַיַּרְא מֹשֶׁה אֶת-כָּל-הַמְּלָאכָה וְהִנֵּה עָשׂוּ אֹתָהּ כַּאֲשֶׁר צִוָּה יְהוָה כֵּן עָשׂוּ וַיְבָרֶךְ אֹתָם מֹשֶׁה
Moses saw that they had performed all the tasks—and behold! They had made it! As God had commanded, so they had done—and Moses blessed them (Exodus 39:43).
When we work together, each individual contributing their own skills, talents, and resources, it is an incredible blessing. When we each contribute our own unique gifts, and when we remember as we do so that we are part of something much bigger than ourselves, we bring God’s presence into the world.
May this be a Shabbat of blessing, of wonder, and of rest.
May those who are ill find refuat ha’nefesh, healing of the spirit, and refuat ha’guf, healing of the body.
May all the hostages come home to their families and friends.
May those who are working for peace be granted strength and courage to continue their sacred work, and may we soon see peace and dignity for all.
Shabbat Shalom,
Leah