Parshas Pekudei 5782
When I was learning in yeshiva, the notion of making any meaningful donation to the institution was well beyond my means. But I made a mental note—and even related to a few friends—that if I was ever in a different position, I’d want my money to go towards coffee. The coffee station was located in the basement of the yeshiva and I’d always thought of it in terms the furnaces located in the bottom of the great steamships of old. Coffee kept the engines of the Bais Medrash turning, providing everyone with the caffeine needed to stay alert. I wondered how I could accomplish this feat. How could I be sure that my donation would go to coffee, and not to, say, toilet paper?
The Midrash describes a frightening moment in the personal audit that Moshe Rabbeinu undertook following the completion of the Mishkan. As Moshe attempted to balance the books, there were 1,775 shekalim that could not be accounted for. Moshe was worried he would not be able to justify where the missing shekalim went and that suspicions would arise that he’d lined his own pockets with them. The “Aha!” moment finally came, and Moshe realized that the missing shekalim had actually been spent on the vavei ha’amudim—the small hooks with which the fabric partitions surrounding the courtyard would be affixed to the posts from which they hung.
The Kotzker Rebbe explains the reason for the initial oversight and the subsequent breakthrough. More than making sure that the income and expense columns matched, Moshe Rabbeinu was tracing the individual half-shekels from coin to coffee. Each coin donated was destined for a particular purpose within the Mishkan—more or less holy, more or less impactful—based on the purity of intention of the donor. Those who gave with the greatest sincerity enjoyed the distinction of their coins going towards the most critical and elevated aspects of the final structure. There was no coffee in the Bais Hamikdash, but had there been, the donations of the greatest tzaddikim would surely have gone to pay for it.
It was within this context that Moshe was baffled by the missing 1,775 shekels, representing the half-shekel donations of 3,550 Jews, within whom he could not detect sufficient intention to qualify for inclusion in the Mishkan at all. Where could these donations possibly have landed within an edifice that would serve as the very resting place of the Shechinah?
Moshe ultimately realized that these donations went towards the small hooks. The Kotzker Rebbe explains that Moshe’s breakthrough was in understanding that even when a Jew’s own thoughts, intentions, and actions may fall short, he can always have a place through the power of connection to those holier than himself. Much like this group of donors to the Mishkan, the hooks created holiness by association.
Everyone wants to feel personally accomplished, and the assessment of how much we have or have not accomplished is often viewed through the prism of our surroundings. When we’ve achieved more than those around us, we feel good; when we haven’t, we don’t. Which can lead us—consciously or subconsciously—to a sad state of underachievement. We can surround ourselves with people we know we can outshine—or at least feel confident comparing ourselves to—as a means of easing the burden of self-development from upon our shoulders.
How do we bring ourselves to associate with people whose achievements and motivation outstrips our own, despite the inherent attack upon our own ego that we’ll be inviting? Perhaps by flipping the script. If we have a tendency to surround ourselves with underachievers so that our own accomplishments stand out, we need to remind ourselves that an association with a great person is an accomplishment in of itself.
The company we keep is a statement of our values. Being around people who exercise, or learn Torah, or gossip, means we’ll be exposed to those activities and will likely be influenced to do more of it ourselves. We’ll be met with opportunities to engage in similar behavior, and will naturally avoid opportunities that can erode that behavior, simply by spending time amongst that group.
You may have the smallest net worth of anyone at the country club, but by playing golf amongst those billionaires, you’ll be exposed to deals and relationships that will undoubtedly deepen your pockets. And the same is true of being the biggest ignoramus in the Bais Medrash, publishing the fewest articles amongst your colleagues, or having the largest waist size of all your friends. While the tendency may be to abandon that group to let your ego expand in the presence of less accomplished people, the reality is that your production will increase by staying in the orbit of those greater than you. Before you run for the hills so your own achievements will appear greater, remind yourself that staying in the company of those overshadowing you is actually its own achievement.
It was the hooks that held the curtains up and gave them value as an integrated component of the Mishkan. While there is great comfort in simply falling to the floor and being compared to that which is beneath us, the hooks remind us to look up and to associate with those greater. While we may stand out less, we’ll ultimately achieve so much more.