Rabbi
Doniel Staum, LMSW
Rabbi,
Kehillat New Hempstead
Social
Worker, Yeshiva Bais Hachinuch/ASHAR
STAM
TORAH
PARSHAS
VAYAKHEL 5774
“FORGET
ME NOT”
Shortly before our wedding in February
2002 (Adar 5762), I was speaking with Rabbi Dovid Katzenstein shlita, the (then)
Menahel (Dean) of my yeshiva, Yeshiva Shaarei Torah in Monsey, at his home. We were
discussing different aspects of marriage and he was offering some valuable advice.
The last idea that he mentioned was perhaps the most important advice about
marriage that I have ever heard.
He related that several years earlier he
was involved with a couple who were having some serious familial issues. The
situation was deteriorating rapidly and they were in desperate need of
guidance. They were hoping Rabbi Katzenstein could help them salvage their
marriage.
Rabbi Katzenstein met with each spouse
individually to ensure that they would be able to express their feelings
uninhibitedly. One of the points the wife raised was that she was very hurt
that her husband never bought her any presents. When Rabbi Katzenstein recounted
her complaint to the husband, he was quick to deny the allegation. “How can she
say I never buy her anything? I always buy her a birthday present, a Chanukah
present, and an anniversary present!?”
Rabbi Katzenstein explained that he
was missing the point. “Of course it is nice (and necessary) to buy a gift for
your wife on all of those occasions. However, those are not the gifts she is
referring to. She is complaining about the lack of spontaneity; gifts out of
the clear blue. If your wife likes red jelly beans, then on a Tuesday afternoon
in November bring home a bag of red jelly beans for her. If she likes vanilla
milkshakes, surprise her with a milkshake on a hot afternoon in July.
“It’s not the present that really counts.
It’s the message that it sends; ‘I was thinking about you today.’ Your wife
wants to know that you think about her even when she’s not with you. You have
to go the extra mile to demonstrate your desire to invest in the marriage in
order to show her that she is paramount in your mind.”
When Moshe addressed Klal Yisroel to
relate G-d’s precise instructions about the construct of the Mishkan (Tabernacle),
and to appeal from them all of the necessary materials for the construction,
they were unexpectedly forthcoming. The materials were quickly donated with
great exuberance and philanthropy. “Every man whose heart inspired him came;
and everyone whose spirit motivated him brought the portion of G-d for the work
of the tent of Meeting, for all its labor and for the sacred vestments.”[1]
The response was so positive that Moshe was
compelled to stop the campaign. “Moshe commanded that they proclaim throughout
the camp, saying, “Man and woman shall not do more work toward the gift of the
sanctuary!” …the work had been enough… and there was extra.”[2]
Their remarkable response demonstrated
a genuine desire to rectify the spiritual damage they had wrought in committing
the egregious sin of the golden calf. However, there was one elite group who
did not respond with the alacrity and zeal of the rest of the nation. The verse
notes that, “The leaders (נשאם) brought the Shoham stones and the stones
for the setting for the Ephod and the Breastplate.”[3]
Rashi cites R’ Nassan[4]
who notes the word “נשאם - nesi’im – leaders”, is spelled without the
two letter yuds that it normally has. The deficiency in the spelling of their
title alludes to the deficiency in their donations to the Mishkan campaign.
They assumed that the general contributions would be insufficient for the
construction. Therefore, they magnanimously offered to shoulder the burden of providing
everything that would not be donated by the masses. However, when the campaign
was over there was virtually nothing left for the leaders to donate, except for
the stones for the Ephod and Breastplate.
Although the intent of the leaders was
noble, their initial passiveness was viewed as an inappropriate display of
languidness.
The commentators question the Torah’s criticalness
of the leader’s response. In a sense, it seems like the end vilifies the means.
Had the people indeed been indolent in their response as was expected and the
leaders would have donated everything that was still needed, one would imagine
that the leaders would have been lauded for their generosity. Should they then
be criticized because they did not fathom the nation’s eager response and
therefore had almost nothing left to give?
The situation seems analogous to a wealthy close
friend who promises a newly married couple that - as a wedding gift - he would
give them everything they didn’t receive from anyone else. Thus, instead of
receiving another mixer, set of salad bowls, or a silver mezuzah case, the
couple knows that they can count on that friend to get all the things they
really want. Although that gift may lack surprise and novelty, it will surely
be welcomed by the young couple.
Why then was the offer of the leaders viewed
with such contempt?
The truth is that in order to understand
the Torah’s criticalness toward their donation we must reexamine the analogy.
What if it wasn’t a friend who was making this offer to a young couple but it
was a groom making such an offer to his new bride? Just prior to the wedding he
explains to her that he did not buy her a new piece of jewelry to give her on
their wedding day because he knows that she will be receiving a great deal of
jewelry as presents. However, he assures her that after all the wedding gifts have
been opened, he would buy her whatever jewelry she wanted.[5]
One can imagine the contemptuous disdain
that the bride would feel toward her groom. Although the groom may have meant
well, he fails to realize that it’s not merely the beauty or value of the gift
that matters. There is incredible sentimental value that a gift given on one’s
wedding day possesses. The gift forever symbolizes the joy and love they feel
for each other on that day and, therefore, the loss of such a gift is simply irreplaceable.
On their lofty spiritual level, the Princes
were remiss in this regard. Had they felt the proper level of devotion and
excitement to construct the House of G-d, they would have jumped to contribute without
reserve. The “House of G-d” does not require physical material as much as it
requires passion and the desire to be close to G-d and to perform His Service. The
emotional excitement (or lack thereof) was more important than the amount of materials
contributed.
Rabbi Paysach Krohn, noted lecturer and
author, relates a personal story which taught him an important lesson: In the
shul where he davens (prays) there was an older unmarried fellow with whom he
maintained a convivial relationship. In fact, each Friday Night when they would
meet in shul Rabbi Krohn would invite the man to join his family for the Shabbos
seudah (meal).But each week the man politely declined.
One Friday night Rabbi Krohn decided to be insistent.
In a jocular manner he told the man that he simply had to come. “I know that each
week you have a reason why you can’t come, but this week we are not accepting
any more excuses!”
The man asked Rabbi Krohn if he wanted to
hear his real response. Realizing that he was about to be rebuked, Rabbi Krohn
replied that he was prepared to hear what the man had to say. The man looked up
and continued, “What nerve do you have to invite me to your home on Friday
night? Don’t you think I make plans for Shabbos? Throughout the lonely week I try
to figure out where I can squeeze myself in for a meal in the most unobtrusive
manner. Then I come to shul and, after davening, as everyone is going home to
eat their meals you invite me. Why don’t you think about me in the middle of
the week? If you called me up on Wednesday night I would gladly oblige. But
being invited just prior to the meal sends a message that you think I am an
unfortunate soul with nowhere to go!”
Although he was the subject of the rebuke, Rabbi
Krohn relates this story so that others can learn from his mistake. In fact,
after hearing the story, I realized that the message of the story was
personally applicable. Each week shortly before Shabbos my wife and I make it a
point to call our parents and my Bubby in order to wish them a good Shabbos. The
truth is that we are in contact with our parents throughout the week.
Therefore, the ‘Erev Shabbos phone call’ is generally terse. We only call to
wish them ‘a good Shabbos’.
When my Bubby was still living alone in her
Manhattan apartment throughout the week, we would often only see her or speak
to her on weekends. I realized that the brief two minute phone call Erev
Shabbos was insufficient. At that time, many of my Bubby’s grandchildren and
great-grandchildren would also call her to wish her a Good Shabbos. It was also
a hectic time when she was making her final preparations for Shabbos. Although
she undoubtedly valued our phone calls, that was not the time when she could use
it most.
I realized that a phone call in the middle
of the week would mean so much more to her. I tried to make it a point to call
her once a week during a mid-week morning or evening. If one of my children was
in the vicinity and I gave them the phone to say a quick hello to “Bubby Kohn”
it is that much more meaningful. Although our conversations were usually quick,
(we may discuss the weather, what new milestones my children have reached, and
how she was feeling) I knew that the message the phone call sent her was far
more valuable. It conveyed to her that we were thinking about her. As she sat
alone in her apartment with the news blaring in the background as her only
company, she was reminded that she has children, grandchildren, and great
grandchildren who were thinking about her.[6]
I once heard the following classic
thought: “Men think women love flowers even though they die. The truth
is that women love flowers because they die!”
Building and fostering relationships is an
ongoing process that requires long-term repeated investment.
“The leaders brought the Shoham stones”
“Every man whose heart inspired him came”
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