Parshas Pikudei
The Meshulach of Reb Chayim Volozhin’s yeshiva had an idea. If he would be given a horse and carriage to travel around in, he could reach a wider community of donors than he could on foot and collect more money for the yeshiva.
When he arrived at the first town which he used to frequent on foot, the benefactor who used to give him $1,000, only gave him $800. So, Reb Chayim himself visited him and asked him why he gave less. Well, he said, up to now when your Meshulach came on foot, I knew that whatever I gave went directly to the upkeep of the yeshiva. But now that you have overhead, I deducted what goes for the upkeep of the horse and wagon. Let somebody else fund that.
You are wrong, responded Reb Chayim. Money is fungible. When they collected money for the Mishkan, they had a surplus (Shemos 36:7). The surplus money went to the Temple treasury for future use. Of course, every donor would have liked to point to the Aron Hakodesh and proudly say, I bought that for the Mishkan, rather than say my money went into the Mishkan’s bank account. But where your money goes is not up to you.
It was up to Betzalel. We are told that G-d filled Betzalel with the wisdom and understanding to work “ba’zahav, ba’kesef, ba’nechoshes,” with the gold and with the silver and with the brass (35:32). The Torah does not say “be’zahav,” with gold, but “ba’zahav,” literally, in the gold. Betzalelel, so to speak, got into it, and through Divine inspiration figured out where each piece of gold should go. Gold that was given with great sacrifice by someone who could ill afford it, yet longed to support the Mishkan, would go to the Holy Ark. Gold that was given under social duress – “I’d better give or else how will I be perceived by my peers” – went to the piles of surplus. That is the meaning of the words “Eileh pikudei ha’Mishkan,” these are the reckonings of the Mishkan. Only Betzalel with his G-d given wisdom could reckon which gold was given whole-heartedly and deserved to be placed near the Shechinah, and which was given grudgingly and was destined for the bank.
We are told that the precious stones that were embedded in the Choshen Mishpat had the names of the twelve tribes engraved in them, and that miraculously the stones remained “be’milu’osam” (39:13), undiminished after the engraving.
How did that happen? Surely engraving results in the removal of part of the surrounding precious stone to make space for the letters? We are also told that unlike the Tzitz, the head plate, which was engraved by human hands (39:30), the stones in the breastplate came “pituchei chotam” (39:14), with their engravings ready-made. The engraving on the stones of the breastplate was not done by human hand, but rather by placing the Shamir worm on the stones. This worm was able to engrave the names of each tribe by delicately cracking the surface of the stones in the formation of the letters without displacing any surrounding material.
Etching the Torah in our hearts and minds takes an enormous investment of effort and time. We may fear that the long hours we spend on it displaces the time we need to meet our surrounding responsibilities, our commitment to work, to family etc. Miraculously, however, nothing gets displaced. To the contrary, the light of the Torah illuminates and uplifts all the other secular areas of our lives, like the undiminished sparkling gems on the breastplate.
The Kohen Gadol wore the Me’il, the robe which was made completely out of sky blue wool. Whatever the Kohen Gadol did, wherever he went, when he looked at this garment, he was reminded that he owed his whole existence to G-d. It is G-d who gave him sight, who makes him walk upright, who steadies his steps, who replenishes his strength and who takes care of all his needs. When the Kohen Gadol walked out each morning clothed in the Me’il, he was most unlikely to attribute his success in life to his own efforts or to pat himself on the back and say, “It is my own strength and power that brings me prosperity” (Devarim 8:17).
But what about us? We don’t wear the Me’il. What reminds us of our dependence on G-d? It is the 613 mitzvot that follow us wherever we go and wrap themselves around our lives 24/7 so that at every turn we cannot help but say, “I place G-d before me always,” (Tehillim 16:8).
