I am a coffee fanatic. I am also a Judaism fanatic. So imagine my joy when I was able to tie in a coffee story to Jewish story. What am I talking about? Let me explain. The word on the street is that Starbucks will soon begin selling instant coffee, called Via, in stores for $2.95. It is obvious that Starbucks is feeling the pinch of the recession and that is not such a bad thing. After all, 5 dollars for a cup of coffee is really rather pricey. So, they came up with instant Starbucks coffee for 3 bucks a cup. Still expensive, but better, I suppose.
I think that Starbucks is also noticing something else, though. Even though most of us would love to sit down and read a paper or take it easy while sipping latte for an hour or so, we simply can’t. There is too much going on and our responsibilities generally prohibit us from taking the time. We are more of an instant coffee society than a slow-brewed one.
In the Torah portion this week, Moses recognizes the same phenomenon. You see, he is undertaking the building of the Tabernacle, the tent where the Ark of the Covenant is to rest and preparing the altar for the sacrifices. He knows people’s limitations. They are worried about having enough food to eat. They are worried about protecting themselves from their enemies who attack the fleeing Israelites from time to time. And they are worried about their material possessions.
But Moses also knows how his people feel. They are profoundly grateful for what they have and know that to participate in the building of the mishkan is a great honor and a great opportunity to be a part of the mitzvah, to build community, and to do an act of tzedakah which would really make a difference.
And so Moses does something very interesting. He tells his people what God commands,
“Tell the Israelites to take an offering for me; from every person motivated by a willing heart..” In other words, we know what is going on in our lives, we know how busy we are, we know we want to be a part of something great so–do what you can – there is no minimum.
It’s a wonderful motivation for the Jews brought to the Tabernacle all manner of gifts and these gifts were all combined to create what would be the central symbol of the Jewish people throughout history.
The word Moses uses which means “to volunteer” is nadav. It comes from a much older word meaning to impel and is most often found in the reflexive form which means “to impel oneself” or “to feel called to do something.” Moses knows how much people want to participate and he offers them the perfect way to do it: no money down, no minimum, no cover, and we take anything.
I think this serves as a wonderful lesson for us. To be a part of the Jewish community and an active member in a synagogue is a way of attesting to the importance of this place in our lives. Some of us do not have a lot to give and yet have gifts that we yearn to share. Some have needs that only a synagogue can take care of. And some long for the sense of belonging to something bigger than themselves where the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Like the Tabernacle in the desert, a temple ought be built on foundations that arise from the heart and the need of everyone to both give and take.
Our tradition has built an edifice of law and practice and tradition to express this notion of giving and taking. It is called tzedakah which is often translated as ‘charity.’ The truth, though, is that it is not ‘charity.’ Charity comes from the world meaning ‘affection’ or ‘love.’ Now, while there may be affection and love in tzedakah – the word tzedakah comes from the Hebrew meaning ‘righteousness.’ Doing tzedakah is engaging in a righteous act, whether we are feeling charitable or not.
As Moses teaches us in the Torah portion, tzedakah is found in the heart and it is from the heart that it must flow. The stuff the Israelites gave for the building of the Tabernacle was merely a manifestation of what was in their hearts. But what of the person who has little, if anything to give? What comes out the heart, then? And how can we who feel blessed possibly make a difference?
These day, there are so many who are suffering from the recession. We have congregants who are in pain. Some are losing their jobs, their health and their world seems to be falling apart. For them, we need to offer the gifts that flow from our hearts and, in time, they will respond in kind. This is no time for passing judgment. This is a time for tzedakah.
When I speak of tzedakah now, though, I am not talking about money. Even though many of you have been most generous in offering help through me to other congregants and have fed the hungry more times than you can know through our food collection, we simply do not have the full amount of money to support an entire family or food to constantly feed the hungry. What can offer? The true gifts of our hearts, what I call the three ‘S’s: soulfulness, supportiveness and being surrounded by community.
Those who suffer understand the importance of being understood. They need others to be soulful; soulful of their own blessings, soulful of their gifts, soulful of the words they utter and soulful that though misery may love company, those in pain need respect and love to give them strength to break out. That is the tzedakah of the heart.
Maimonides tells us “If a poor person requests money from you, and you have nothing to give him, speak to him consolingly.” This is like the story of a beggar who asked a man for money. The man had no money to give to the beggar, so he said to the beggar, “Brother, I have nothing to give you? The beggar thanked the man. The man asked, “Why did you thank me? I have given you nothing?” The beggar responded, “You called me brother.”
We need to be supportive even if we are sometimes disinclined to be for we don’t know how the tzedakah from our heart will change a life. There is the story from the Talmud about Rabbi Tarfon who was the wealthiest Rabbi of the Talmudic era and, interestingly enough, not in the habit of giving substantially to the poor. The Talmud tells the story this way:
One time Rabbi Akiva said to him: “Would you like me to be your agent in buying a town or two?”
Certainly,” replied Rabbi Tarfon. Rabbi Tarfon then brought four thousand gold dinars which Rabbi Akiva took and distributed to the poor.
Some time later, Rabbi Tarfon sought out Rabbi Akiva and said to him: “Where are the towns that you bought for me?” Rabbi Akiva took him by the hand and brought him to the school that the money had built. A student quoted a verse from Psalms that says, ‘Happy is the one who gives freely to the poor; his tzedakah lasts forever, Rabbi Akiva said: “This is the property which I bought for you.”
Rabbi Tarfon hugged Rabbi Akiva and said: “You are my teacher and my leader, a real rabbi to me.”
I love that story. Rabbi Akiva was gentle, he was loving, he was respectful and instead of telling Tarfon what he needed to do, he led him to a place that changed the lives of so many for so many generations and changed Tarfon’s life as well.
And, finally, the tzedakah of the heart which is expressed in community. When we suffer, we have an instinctive need to feel protected and warmed and told that we are loved. I am amazed as some of the letters of appreciation that we get at the temple because of the efforts of our front office, our staff, our tzedakah projects and so forth. It is incredible to know how much the gifts of our hearts bring comfort and joy. After all, who doesn’t love getting a Purim Basket, all done by people who want to bring joy into our lives and whose love for all of us emanates brightly from their hearts.
Our tzedakah is not limited to the giving of money, although that is certainly part of it. Our real tzedakah is the tzedakah that Moses taught us in the Torah, the gift that comes from the need we feel deep inside to want to give a gift, no matter how small or how insignificant we may think it is. If the Torah portion that Billie is going to read teaches anything, it is that there is no such thing as an insignificant gift in the eyes of God when it comes from heart.
Our real gifts that we give freely and willingly are the gifts of soulfulness and understanding, of support and inspiration and of being surrounded by a community at all times. These are the gifts that turn a tent into a Tabernacle and turn a synagogue into a sanctuary.
May we all give lovingly of those gifts we find in our hearts and may they be offered with the same joy and gladness that Moses inspired. May all of our gifts be holy and may the sanctuaries we build always be big enough to embrace whomever seeks us out.
From <https://americanrabbi.com/starbucks-and-tzedakah-by-cy-stanway/>
