Tag: Tzedakah

What Gifts Did You Bring?

The most meaningful gifts we can offer others are rarely material – they are the gifts of our presence, the gifts of compassion, understanding, and kindness.

I grew up in New Jersey, far from both sets of grandparents who lived in New England. Back then, travel to visit was a journey and a real effort. We saw my grandparents only two or three times a year.

After my maternal grandfather died, my grandmother remarried a Holocaust survivor from Germany who worked for Hasbro Toys. When they would pull into our driveway after their long drive to visit us, my four brothers, sister, and I would race out to the car, bursting with excitement after so much time apart. We would exchange hugs and kisses, and often the first thing out of our mouths was, “What gifts did you bring us?”

What gifts did you bring us? My parents were appalled.

And yet, we adored my grandparents, not for their physical gifts, but for their boundless love and their unwavering acceptance. We were young children who had not yet matured enough to express gratitude for the truest gifts they gave us, the gift of themselves, their presence, and their open hearts. We never had the chance to fully express this to my grandmother. She died of metastatic breast cancer just before I turned sixteen.

In this week’s Torah portion, Terumah, from the Book of Exodus, God instructs Moses to tell the Israelites: ‘Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart is so moved’ (Exodus 25:2).” It should be noted that the name of the portion itself, Terumah, literally means “gifts.”

These gifts were for the building of the mishkan, the portable sanctuary. Their purpose was not simply to create a beautiful sacred space, but to allow each person to invest something of themselves in a shared holy project. In giving, the people expressed gratitude for their redemption from Egypt and for the covenant they were about to enter at Sinai. Through these voluntary offerings, they began to understand what it meant to become Am Yisrael, the People of Israel, a people bound to one another and to God.

Of course, God does not need gifts. God does not require gold, fabric, or precious stones, nor even a sanctuary, in order to dwell among us. The gifts were never for God. They were for the people themselves. In the act of giving, hearts were shaped, relationships were formed, and holiness took root.

One of the enduring teachings of Terumah is that the most meaningful gifts in our lives are rarely material. The deepest blessings come from the people who show up for us, who offer their time, their care, their compassion, and their presence. These are the gifts that sustain us as individuals and bind us together as a community.

Life is ephemeral. We do not always realize in the moment the magnitude of what we are being given. Parashat Terumah reminds us to notice, to receive with humility, and to respond with gratitude. To honor the gifts in our lives is itself a sacred act.

This teaching feels especially resonant this week, as our three monotheistic traditions enter sacred seasons that call us to give from the heart, each in our own language and ritual grammar. For our Muslim friends, Wednesday evening marked the beginning of Ramadan, the most holy month in Islam. This sacred time is devoted to spiritual reflection, self-discipline, prayer, and deepened responsibility to community. For our Christian neighbors, Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent, a forty-day journey of humility, repentance, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. And for our Jewish community, Wednesday ushered in the month of Adar, the month of Purim, when one of our central mitzvot is the giving of tzedakah and gifts to others.

Parashat Terumah teaches that holiness is not built through obligation alone, but through offerings that come from a willing heart. In different ways, these sacred seasons ask the same of us. They invite us to step beyond ourselves, to notice the needs of others, and to recognize that spiritual life is inseparable from how we care for one another.

It is no coincidence that in the week we read a Torah portion devoted to gifts freely given, our faith traditions are each emphasizing generosity, humility, and responsibility for the vulnerable. While our practices and beliefs are distinct, the moral vision beneath them is shared. Difference itself becomes a gift when it leads us toward deeper compassion, greater understanding, and a more just world.
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May we learn to see the people in our lives, and the people beyond our own communities, as gifts. May the offerings we bring, of kindness, compassion, and presence, help build a world worthy of God’s abiding presence. “V’asu li mikdash, v’shachanti b’tocham – let them build Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them.” (Exodus 25:8)

Shabbat Shalom!

Chanukah- Bringing Light to Others

When I was growing up, Chanukah was literally a “festival of MANY lights!” As the oldest of six children, my parents gave each one of us our own chanukiyah. (Note: A menorah is any multi-branched candelabra. A chanukiyah is a menorah specifically designated for Chanukah. It has nine candle holders: one for each of the eight nights of Chanukah, plus one for the “shammash” – the helper candle that is used to light the other candles).

Every morning during Chanukah, each of us would carefully choose which color candles we were going to light that night. My mother placed a table in front of one of our living room windows with all of the chanukiyot (plural form of Chanukiyah) circled strategically around. The mitvah – the commandment – of Chanukah is to publicize the miracle. Hence the directive to light the candles in a window. My siblings and I loved watching all those candles burn and glow!

My Canadian Moose Chanukiyah - one of my favorites!
My Canadian Moose Chanukiyah – one of my favorites!

 

My mother's Chanukiya that she bought on her first visit to Israel in 1957.
My mother’s Chanukiya that she bought on her first visit to Israel in 1957.

I have a collection of many beautiful and unique chanukiyot now. But the one I still use every year on Chanukah is the one I used growing up, the one I inherited from my mother. It is not beautiful, but it takes me back to my childhood, it reminds me of my mother and helps make me feel as if she is part of my Chanukah celebration, even though she is no longer alive. That feeling helps the flame of my candles glow even more brightly.

It is no accident that Chanukah, our festival of lights, occurs during December. These are some of the darkest days/nights of the year: we are approaching our winter solstice. Once again, Chanukah reminds us that during the darkest time of the year, we human beings have the power to kindle lights against the darkness. We have the power to brighten the lives of others.

Let me suggest that we can make the flames of our own Chanukah candles burn even more brightly by dedicating at least one of the nights of our own Chanukah celebration to a family tzedakah project instead of giving gifts to each other. The word tzedakah comes from the root tzedek – which means “justice” and “righteousness”. We don’t simply give tzedakah because it makes us feel good, but rather out of our sense of responsibility to God and to taking care of others in the world around us.

There are a number of different provisions for tzedakah outlined in the Torah, all further clarified by the rabbis in the Talmud. They all center around one basic principle: no matter what form our tzedakah takes, we must make sure that we never compromise anyone’s dignity, honour or self-respect. In fact, the highest form of tzedakah is when we can help someone to help themselves, so that they will no longer be dependent upon the help of others.

Tzedakah is not something that is limited to one night of the year. Perhaps you can use this opportunity as a family to figure out a family tzedakah project that will be meaningful for your family to participate in all year long. This is something that both parents and children can research, donate time and funds to, educate others about, spend a little time at the Shabbat dinner table reflecting on and do some type of culminating event at the end of the year. (It is customary to donate tzedakah every Shabbat right before Shabbat begins). I think you will find that no matter what project you and/or your family choose, this year-long involvement will not only make your Chanukah candles glow more brightly for others, but enable them to glow all year long for you as well.

Chag Urim Sameach! May you have a Happy Festival of Lights!

Click here for some links for helpful Chanukah resources:

Chanukah resources from Rabbi Sharon Sobel @ Temple Isaiah, Stony Brook, NY