In the beginning of the parsha, Moshe lists the various “goods” and materials that were donated for the building of the Mishkan - ranging from gold, silver, copper, wools, skins, spices, and finally the shoham stones that were used for the ephod and choshen. It would seem that items are listed in descending order of value—except for the fact that the most precious shoham stones are found at the bottom of the list.
In grappling with this difficulty, the Ohr Hachaim suggests that the value of the shoham stones was actually diminished because of the way in which they were donated by the nisi’im (princes of each tribe), as described in our parsha:
And the princes brought the shoham stones and filling stones for the ephod and for the choshen (Ex. 35:27)
Rashi, quoting Rav Natan, explains that the word nisi’m is notably written without the letter yud to signify a deficiency in the princes, who had declared that they would donate whatever was still needed after the people made all of their contributions.
Rav Nevenzhal suggests that a fundamental truth is to be learned from their mistake. Their promise to supply that which is not provided by others suggest that they believed that Hashem needed their actions and deeds—as if there was a void that only they would be able to fill. In truth, however, Hashem is not lacking, Hashem does not need anything from us at all—not even that which He commands of us. Our desire to satisfy our need to serve Hashem should drive our actions, rather than the presumption that we are fulfilling the needs of Hashem by performing the mitzvot.
The Ohr Hachaim also suggests that the demotion of the shoham stones to the bottom of the list may be because these materials were the easiest to come by and required the least amount of preparation. Indeed this answer may not be completely unrelated to his above explanation--as it is when we are motivated simply by the desire to fulfill a void, the way in which we do it is less significant to us. However, when we are motivated by our own desire to give, and to connect through that act of giving, we are ready and willing to put much more energy into the act itself.
Indeed, Rabbi Tatz suggests that the princes’ donation was an act of tzedaka – an act of providing what is absolutely needed. Admirable though this may be on some level, the Maharal explains that such a person is not truly driven by the desire to give. In contrast, the rest of the Jewish people performed what the Maharal would call an act of chessed - going above and beyond what was actually needed:
And they spoke to Moses, saying: "The people are bringing very much, more than is enough for the labor of the articles which the Lord had commanded to do (Ex. 36:5).
The fact that they brought even more than was necessary suggests that they were driven by their own need to give rather than their assumption that Hashem needed what they could provide. As would be expected, their innate drive to serve Hashem is demonstrated not only in terms of monetary and material donations, but also in how they devoted their time and energy to the building of the Mishkan:
And all the women whose hearts uplifted them with wisdom, spun the goat hair (Ex. 35:26)
In trying to understand the unusual terminology, asher nesa'o leebo (whose hearts uplifted them), the Ramban explains that these women did not have the training nor the natural talent to perform this task. In contrast, the women described as the wise hearted woman (35:25) were skilled and capable of performing and providing all the wool that was necessary for the Mishkan. Rav Yosef Nechemia Kornitzer notes that it was the intense desire of the Jewish women whose heart lifted them up—literally their desire to serve Hashem moved them to take action—regardless of the fact that their contributions were not entirely needed.
Rabbi Tatz points out that there is a paradox and a challenge that falls upon every Jew—and that is to be commanded to give, to do for others, but at the same time feel the innate and instinctive drive to want to do so. This conundrum is highlighted, but also perhaps solved in our parsha. In the way they carried forth the instructions to build the Mishkan, the Jewish people model for us how we can accomplish this lofty goal—by giving not only what was required, but to go above and beyond—perhaps if we can follow this lead, in going beyond what is demanded of us, then we can be reminded that the true reason for performing the mitzvot--be it giving to Hashem or to the people in our lives--should not be solely because we are commanded or expected to so, but because we truly gain from the act of giving.
Finally, I think it is worth noting that this lesson is perhaps highlighted in the mitzvot that are associated with the upcoming holiday of Purim. We are commanded at once to provide tzedaka to the poor (matanot le'evyonim), but also to give to friends and family (mishloach manot). Indeed the command to give both to those who need and those who do not need our gifts reminds us that we must not perform acts of generosity as a means not only ensure that others' needs are met, but also should satisfy our inherent need to give to others. And so, may we learn this lesson from the generosity of the Jewish people in our past, and may we tap into our own innate desires to serve Hashem and to help others. It is when we are truly driven by a desire to give and to do that which is commanded of us that our actions hold the most value--it is when we see the true value in the act itself that the deed becomes most meaningful and makes the greatest impact both on ourselves and those around us.
Shabbat Shalom, Taly
