For many years I thought of Terumah, this week’s Torah portion that tells how to build the Tabernacle, as a philanthropy lesson. It begins with God asking the Children of Israel to bring gifts “from every person whose heart so moves them.” (Exodus 25:2) Before rabbinical school, I was a professional fundraiser for 25 years. I loved the idea that we are asked to give whatever our heart moves us to give.

And then for a time I thought of the project as a way of keeping the Children of Israel busy. God knew that these newly freed slaves needed to come together communally. By assigning them the enormous task of building a sanctuary, God could teach them to transform themselves into a community with a common purpose.

Both of those are good explanations. But then I read a commentary by an artist named Caroline Rothstein. She envisioned the Israelites in the desert: “There they are – a disparate band of former slaves – beginning to reckon with their identities, their purposes, their selfhoods, their truths. Both individually and collectively. Who are they? What are they doing? How shall they live? And then God assigns them an art project.”

An art project. It’s a perfect description of the enterprise they would embark upon. An art project that engaged all of their skills as weavers, woodworkers, jewelry makers, and more. An art project that everyone could contribute to, and participate in. An art project that would be the home of the Divine Being.

There was just one problem. God’s instructions were complicated. An especially difficult part was making the menorah, the lamp for the entryway. It was to be made from one piece of pure gold. Its seven cups for holding oil were to be shaped like almond blossoms. The passage ends with a warning: “Note well, and follow the patterns that are being shown you on the mountain.” (Ex. 25:39)

I’m no artist, and the long, detailed description in the Torah makes no sense to me. An 8^th century text called Midrash Tanchuma imagines Moses being equally confused. So he consulted with God. Here’s the imagined conversation [click here for the full text]:

“How shall we make it?” Moses asked.
“Of beaten work shall the menorah be made,” replied God.
Nevertheless, Moses still found difficulty with it, and he forgot its construction.
He went up and said, “Master of the Universe, I have forgotten how to make it!”
God said to him, “Look and make it.” He made its form out of fire and showed him its construction, Still Moses found it difficult.
So the Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: “Go to Bezalel and he will make it.”
He went down and told Bezalel, who immediately did it.   

The midrash reminds us that each person has different skills and abilities. Moses, the man of words, could not imagine the design, even when it was shown to him. Bezalel, the artist, knew exactly how to make the lamp.

This Torah portion, which begins with an invitation for each person to give from their heart, shows us that everyone matters, that everyone has a role in creating the world in which we wish to live. We humans are made in the image of God; an image that is as multi-faceted as there are expressions of it on earth. In other words, us.

May we be blessed to each bring our unique skills, as together we do the sacred task of tikkun olam, repairing the world.