Parshas Vayakhel 5784
A child comes home from school, walks through the door and plops his knapsack down on the floor. A terse dialogue ensues that, no matter how many days in a row the same routine has been played out, leaves his parents’ jaws squarely on the floor.
“How was your day?”
“Good.”
“What’d you learn?”
“Nothing.”
Nothing? Nothing?! How is that even remotely possible? You haven’t seem the kid for hours, he was sent off to an institution of rigorous education, and spent the entire day in the company of those whose life mission it is to educate youngsters. Nothing?!
Well, adults, guess what? Far too many of us are guilty of the same crime.
Moshe presents Betzalel to the People as the chief artisan presiding over the construction of the Mishkan. But the press release is issued as though it is already old news; that somehow the people had already known that Betzalel was so chosen, despite having never been told.
וַיֹּאמֶר מֹשֶׁה אֶל־בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל רְאוּ קָרָא ה׳ בְּשֵׁם בְּצַלְאֵל בֶּן־אוּרִי בֶן־חוּר לְמַטֵּה יְהוּדָה׃
שמות לה:ל
Moshe said to the Children of Israel, “See that Hashem has called the name of Betzalel, son of Uri, son of Chur, of the Tribe of Judah.
Shemos 35:30
Rav Moshe Feinstein asks why Betzalel is introduced in this manner. Moshe references a “calling” that has already been made, but when did this happen and why would the people know about it?
Rav Moshe answers with a startling insight. He explains that the immensely talented Betzalel was never formally called. Rather, the talent he possessed was itself the calling. That everyone knew of Betzalel’s talents was one and the same as knowing that he had been called to perform the work, to dedicate his talents in the service of Hashem and the Jewish People.
Talent, explains Rav Moshe, is both an invitation and a demand. The abilities one possesses were not gifted to him arbitrarily, but by design, and with strings attached. There is an expectation that those abilities will be honed and will be utilized for the sake of holy work, of avodas hakodesh.
It’s an astounding statement. But also one that may not resonate with the average person. Because the average person is not an artist. There is no special talent or artistic flair that can be employed in the service of Hashem and the Jewish People. No ability to work with precious metals or weave thread in such a way as to construct a residence for Hashem’s Presence.
But talent knows many forms. And the mistake so many of us make is in overlooking the talents we do indeed possess. If not artistically talented, if not in possession of the sort of ability that allows them to paint a beautiful picture or play beautiful music, we define themselves as talentless.
“What are you good at?”
“Nothing.”
Nothing? Nothing?! How is that even remotely possible?
People spend their waking hours engaged in activities that call upon them to perform tasks and produce results. Oftentimes, they are even paid good money for such work. But we define those activities as being something less than the product of talent. It’s business. It’s life. It’s stuff. It’s not talent.
And that’s all wrong. Yes, the Mikdash needed an artisan. But communities and shuls need lots of skills. They need web designers and accountants and bookkeepers and organizers and copywriters. We default to thinking of art galleries and concert halls as the exclusive places in which talent is exhibited, but talent is on display just as much in our offices and homes, inside of our laptops and scrawled across the pages of our daily planners.
I recently met someone who was telling me about the work he does for couples going through divorces, trying to help mediate and ensure that a get is issued in a proper fashion. He didn’t share his whole story with me, but when I asked about how he got involved in this realm of communal work, he told me, “Hashem didn’t have me go through my own experience just to keep it all to myself and not help others.” This man’s experience yielded certain expertise, and he paid it forward in the form of assisting others going through similar challenges.
A prime example of this sort of work has been undertaken by “Living Smarter Jewish,” an organization dedicated to providing basic financial guidance for the frum community. This is a group of professionals who could easily have responded, “Nothing,” when asked what they’re talented at. “We’re CPA’s and financial planners. Not woodworkers and painters. We don’t have talent.” Oh yes they do. And they’re using that talent in a big way.
In our own community, a small group of remarkable women understood that identifying and utilizing talent could raise money for our brothers and sisters in Israel. How easy it would have been to respond with a shrug of the shoulders instead. “We don’t have any talent. Baking? Baking’s not a talent, it’s just what we do to get ready for Shabbos.” But baking is a talent. And cranking out flyers is a talent. And organizing the effort is a talent. In identifying those talents, “Baked B’Ahava” was born. And those talents have to date yielded over thirty thousand dollars in funds raised for important organizations in Israel.
There are countless similar examples, and yet far too few. There is immense talent and ability that resides in the individuals comprising our nation that could yet be leveraged in the interest of the Klal but doesn’t. And not because there aren’t enough hours in the day or because people are overcommitted, but simply because they don’t recognize the talents they have for what they truly are and don’t recognize the enormous impact they can have by sharing them.
If we had a need to put a resume together, we’d painstakingly comb through our daily grind in search of skills and abilities that underpin all that we do and accomplish. We’d compile the list and present it before a would-be employer to give them a sense of all we could bring to the company.
And there is no shame in that. The call to earn an honorable livelihood for ourselves and our families is one we must answer. But there is another call that must be answered as well, one that demands a very similar response. It is the call made by the talent itself. It demands that we first recognize the incredible array of skills and abilities that possess and to label them as such. And then to consider how such talent can be leveraged in direct service of Hashem and of His People.
Gold and wood may not be your talent. But something else undoubtedly is. That talent is a call. How will you answer it?