Parshas Ki Sisa 5784
A Billy Bookcase is a fairly straightforward enterprise. But nonetheless, I’ve always been grateful for the instruction booklet the good folks at Ikea tuck inside. Without a picture to serve as your guide, you could easily do something wrong, like install a shelf backwards (in fact, I’ve found that even the inclusion of the instruction booklet won’t necessarily spare you from this fate if you’re not following carefully). The more complex the item, the more necessary it is to have a picture as your guide.
So how complex is a half-shekel?
Hashem calls upon Moshe to perform a census with not only words, but a picture. Hashem says, “זה יתנו—This they shall give (Shemos 30:13),” which Rashi explains to mean that Hashem was presenting an actual depiction of the coin itself. A half-shekel made of fire was actually conjured up to provide Moshe with a visual-aid.
The usage of the word “זה—This,” is similarly explained elsewhere. In Parshas ּBehaaloscha, Hashem describes the construction of the Menorah, saying, “וזה מעשה המנורה—And this is the construction of the Menorah (Bamidbar 8:4).” Here, too, Rashi explains that Hashem was pointing to an image, one he had conjured for Moshe so he could understand the full scope of the Menorah and have a hope to craft it out of gold.
Using a Billy Bookcase as a frame of reference, an image of the Menorah, with all its decorative embellishments, should most certainly come with a depiction of what the finished product should look like. But a half-shekel? Are words alone really insufficient to adequately describe something as simple as a coin?
The Chasam Sofer explains that the point was not the image itself, but what the image was made of. Hashem didn’t just show Moshe an image of a coin, but a coin of fire. Why? Because, as the old adage goes, “רחמנא ליבא בעי—Hashem wants our hearts.” A donation given begrudgingly is hardly the point. If the nation is to be elevated through the process of donating to the Mishkan, it must be performed with passion and interest. It’s not only the coin, but the fire that burns behind it.
This was surely a challenge for any pauper who had to scrounge around to come up with his half-shekel. For anyone who had to tighten his belt and his budget weeks and months in advance of the collection date, giving up the half-shekel with a fire and passion, with a desire and willingness, was surely no small feat.
But the Torah is clear that the demand of this mitzvah is placed not only upon the poor, but upon the wealthy. “העשיר לא ירבה והדל לא ימעיט—The wealthy may not increase, nor may the pauper decrease (Shemos 30:15).” It would be one thing if the wealthy Jew is expected to give according to his means. In that case, his inner struggle would be no less than that of the poor fellow called upon to donate a mere fraction of the billionaire’s pledge. But if the expectation is a mere half-shekel across the board, independent of net worth and financial means, what challenge does the wealthy person face? Why does he need to be implored to be dedicated, passionate, and aflame with religious ambition?
When you’re young, hungry, and inexperienced, the entry-level job feels perfectly appropriate. There are no expectations that one be handed the corner office and a plaque on the door. We don’t yet have the talent or know-how for such grandiose expectations.
But then we develop. We hone our talents and build our portfolios. And our expectations grow. Not only of the compensation and benefits we should receive, but of the position we ought to fill. We can’t bring ourselves to work in the copy room when we ought to be in the conference room.
Which is the great challenge in developing wealth. Not only monetary wealth, but a wealth of experience, talent, and ability. It is difficult to have achieved without feeling one has arrived. How can we bring ourselves to take baby steps when we’ve already covered so much ground?
A daily tip on raising children? I’ve been a parent for decades! A ten-minute limud during my lunch break? I learned three sedarim a day in yeshiva, for crying out loud! A book on improving my marriage? I just celebrated my thirtieth anniversary!
So what do we do instead? Nothing. The large steps are too daunting to face and the small steps are beneath us. So where do we remain? Stuck. Frozen in place in the shadow cast by our oversized bank accounts. All we’ve achieved isn’t leveraged as proof of our ability to succeed, it becomes the albatross around our neck that hampers the small steps needed to continue moving and growing. “You’re a billionaire, you can’t just give a half-shekel. So give nothing at all. Stay right where you are.”
To this, Hashem produces a half-shekel of fire. If we’re on fire, passionate about the cause of sculpting ourselves in the image of G-d, ablaze with the passion to become the best possible versions of ourselves, we’ll gladly take the baby-steps needed.
It’s the first half-shekel that trains the future philanthropist. The first ten minutes that begins to craft the future masmid. The first page of insights that begins to forge a more patient parent or attentive spouse. It’s hard to generate much fire around tiny advances, but we can be burn with the passion of becoming new people.
If we’re on fire, we’ll be unencumbered by the disparity between what we’ve already achieved and what we must now do to continue to grow. We’ll push ourselves towards a path of new growth and fresh success. One half-shekel at a time.