| Dear Yeshiva Family:
This week's Parshah details the generous donations brought by Klal Yisrael for the construction of the Mishkan. The Torah meticulously lists a wide array of materials that the people gave with open hearts, driven by a profound desire to invite the Shechinah to dwell among them. Their giving was not merely an act of charity—it was an expression of devotion, a tangible manifestation of their yearning for closeness to Hashem.
The passuk states: "Speak to Bnei Yisrael, and they shall take for Me a portion; from every person whose heart motivates him, you shall take My portion." (Shemos 25:2) Rashi, commenting on the phrase "they shall take for Me"—emphasizes that the donations must be given lishma, purely for the sake of Hashem. It was not enough to simply contribute; the act had to be infused with intention, an awareness that this offering was designated solely "for Me"—for Hashem's sake, with no ulterior motives. This concept of lishma—performing a mitzvah purely for the sake of Hashem—raises several important questions.
1. The Gemara in Pesachim: Shelo Lishma Leads to Lishma The Gemara in Pesachim (50b) teaches that a person should engage in mitzvos even shelo lishma (not for purely altruistic reasons), because eventually, this will lead them to perform mitzvos lishma (with the proper intentions). This implies that doing mitzvos shelo lishma is not only acceptable but even encouraged as part of one's spiritual growth.
If so, why does the Torah specifically require the donations to the Mishkan to be given lishma? If giving wholeheartedly with pure intentions is an ideal that develops over time, why is it being demanded upfront in this case?
2. The Gemara's View on Tzedakah Given for Personal Benefit The Gemara in Rosh Hashanah (4a) states that if a person gives tzedakah on the condition that his son should be healed, he is considered a tzaddik gamur, a completely righteous person[1], at least in regard to this mitzvah[2]. In other words, the personal motivation behind the mitzvah does not invalidate it.
The Beis HaLevi explains that this is because tzedakah is a result-based mitzvah—what truly matters is that the needy person receives the help they require. Since the outcome is the primary focus, the giver's personal motivation does not diminish the mitzvah's value[3].
This leads to an important question: Donating to the Mishkan is also a form of tzedakah—so why should it be any different? Why does Hashem insist on lishma here, whereas by standard tzedakah, personal motivations are tolerated and even accepted?
3. The General Dispute on Mitzvos and Kavanah (Intent) A third question emerges when considering the broader halachic debate (Pesachim 114b) on whether mitzvos require kavanah (intent) to be fulfilled[4]:
- According to those who hold that mitzvos do require kavanah, why does the Torah feel the need to explicitly emphasize lishma here? Wouldn't it be self-evident that proper intent is required?
- And according to those who hold that mitzvos do not require kavanah, why is this case different? Why does the Torah introduce a special requirement for intention when donating to the Mishkan?
Each of these questions highlights a deeper dimension of the lishma requirement in this context. What is it about the Mishkan that demands an unparalleled level of sincerity? What does this teach us about our relationship with Hashem and the purpose of this sacred structure?
The Shev Shmaiytsa offers an insightful explanation based on a well-known Alshich regarding the wording of our passuk. The Torah instructs Bnei Yisrael to "take" a portion for Hashem—"ויקחו לי תרומה", rather than using the more expected term, "give"—"ויתנו לי תרומה". Why does the Torah frame the act of giving as taking?
The Alshich's Explanation: Gaining by Giving The Alshich explains that when one gives to Hashem—whether through donations to the Mishkan or in general acts of service—it is not a loss but rather a tremendous gain. The privilege of contributing to something holy enriches the giver far more than what they relinquish. Thus, the Torah emphasizes "take for Me" rather than "give"—because in truth, the one who gives is actually receiving.
To illustrate this concept, the Alshich cites a fascinating case from the Gemara in Kiddushin (7a). Ordinarily, Kiddushin (Jewish marriage) is effected when a husband gives his wife an item of monetary value (e.g., a ring). However, the Gemara discusses an unusual scenario in which the roles are reversed—the woman presents the man with a ring. Under normal circumstances, this would not constitute a valid Kiddushin, as the woman must be the recipient of value.
Yet, the Gemara rules that if the man is an important and distinguished person—such that the woman feels honored by the opportunity to give him a gift—then the act is considered as if she has received something in return. Since the emotional or social gain of presenting a gift to someone esteemed is significant, the giving itself is transformed into a form of receiving.
Think of a famous personality you admire. Imagine having the chance to offer them something—a gift, a token of appreciation. The act of giving would itself feel like an honor, a privilege. That is the mechanism at play in this case. And this, says the Alshich, is the very reason the Torah says "take for Me"—because donating to the Mishkan is not merely a gift; it is a privilege, an opportunity to connect with Hashem. The Shev Shmatsa's Insight: Why Lishma is Required Here Building on this idea, the Shev Shmatsa references the Ran in Kiddushin, who adds a crucial detail: this unique form of acquisition—where one gains by giving—only applies when the giver receives no direct personal benefit in return. If the woman in the Gemara's case were to receive compensation or any material gain for her gift, then the act would no longer be considered a privilege—it would simply be a business transaction. The special status of giving as receiving disappears when the act is tainted by self-interest.
Applying this to the Mishkan donations, the Shev Shmatsa resolves our earlier questions. It is true that tzedakah is generally valid even when performed shelo lishma—with secondary motivations or expectations of personal merit. However, in the case of the Mishkan, something unique was happening:
- The Torah emphasizes "ויקחו לי"—"they shall take for Me"—to indicate that this was not a typical act of tzedakah but rather an opportunity for spiritual elevation.
- In order for the donations to be considered a privilege—where the act of giving is itself an act of receiving—they needed to be offered with pure intentions, completely lishma.
- If donors expected a personal return, such as merit, honor, or material benefit, then the act would no longer be an altruistic "taking"—it would become a transaction. And once it becomes a transaction, the entire essence of the mitzvah shifts from an opportunity to connect with Hashem to an act of self-gain.
Thus, only when the donations were given with absolute sincerity—lishma—could they be considered a true "taking" rather than merely a giving. The Torah's precise wording, "ויקחו לי", now becomes clear: the act of giving to the Mishkan was meant to be something that the donor gains by participating in. But for that to be true, it had to be completely lishma.
A Deeper Question: Why Use the Term "ויקחו לי" Instead of "ויתנו לי"? Even after understanding the explanation of the Shev Shmatsa regarding Rashi's interpretation of "לי" as lishma, one can still ask: Why did the Torah demand that the donations be made in this manner. True, the phrase "they shall take for Me a portion"—instead of the more straightforward "they shall give Me a portion" requires that the giving be lishma, based on the above explanation, but why did the Torah demand that we view it as if are taking rather than giving?
To answer this, the Kuntrus Tur HaZahav first addresses a fundamental question:
Why Did the Mishkan Require Gold and Silver? Why was it necessary to collect gold, silver, and copper to build the Mishkan and later the Beis HaMikdash? If this was to be a house for Hashem, the King of all kings, then surely it should not require lavish physical materials to glorify it. A physical structure—no matter how grand—is inherently finite and limited, and Hashem, being infinite, does not "need" a house of gold and silver. One would think that a spiritual sanctuary for Hashem should be composed of something more intangible—a place imbued with holiness, purity, and devotion, rather than gold, silver, and copper.
The Purpose of Physical Contributions: Hashem Desires the Heart The answer lies in a fundamental principle taught by Chazal: "רחמנא ליבא בעי"—"Hashem desires the heart." The Mishkan was not about the physical materials themselves; rather, it was about the act of giving. Hashem wanted the heart of Klal Yisrael—their investment, their effort, and their emotional attachment to the Avodas Hashem.
But why does Hashem specifically desire that the donations be given wholeheartedly? What is the significance of giving with the heart?
The Power of Giving: Giving Creates Love Rav Dessler zt"l explains in Michtav MeEliyahu that giving generates love. People often think that we love others and therefore give to them—but the reality is the opposite: we love others because we give to them. When a person invests in someone or something, their emotional attachment to that person or cause deepens.
Similarly, Rav Shimon Shkop zt"l, in his introduction to Shaarei Yosher, expands on this idea, illustrating it with the relationship between a parent and a child. One might assume that a father loves his child because the child is his own flesh and blood. However, Rav Shimon explains that the deeper reason a parent loves their child is because they give so much to them—they nurture, care for, and invest in their child's well-being. The more effort a person expends on another, the stronger their love grows.
To prove this point, Rav Shimon presents a thought experiment: Imagine a baby is taken from its parents immediately after birth and returned to them years later. Would the parents feel the same deep love for that child as they would for a child they raised, nurtured, and invested in every single day? Naturally, the love would not be as intense, because love is born from giving. Since they were unable to invest in the child during those formative years, the emotional bond would be weaker.
Why the Mishkan Required Gold, Silver, and Copper This is why Hashem wanted every individual to contribute towards the Mishkan's construction. It was not about the materials themselves—it was about the act of giving. Hashem wanted each person to invest in the Mishkan, because through giving, their love for Hashem would grow. The process of giving gold, silver, and copper—things of personal value—would create a deep emotional connection between the giver and Hashem.
Now We Understand: Why "ויקחו לי" and Why Lishma? Now we can return to our original question: Why does the Torah say "ויקחו לי"—"they shall take for Me", rather than "ויתנו לי"—"they shall give to Me"?
The Torah specifically chooses the language of taking to emphasize that by giving, one actually gains. When a person donates to Hashem, they are not losing anything—they are acquiring something far greater: a deepened relationship with Hashem.
However, like the Shav Shmaitsah explained for this to truly be a "taking", the act of giving must be done with pure intentions. If a person gives with ulterior motives—expecting honor, reward, or personal gain—then their giving becomes transactional. It is no longer an act of selfless devotion, and therefore, it does not generate the same depth of connection.
Thus, the Torah adds "לי לשמי"—"for Me, for My sake". Only when the giving is done lishma, purely for the sake of Hashem, does it create the deep bond of love that Hashem desires. The more purely one gives, the greater the connection that results.
This is why Hashem insisted on donations to the Mishkan being lishma. The Mishkan was not just a building. The donating was not just materials required to construct a building; it was about constructing a relationship. Through giving with a full heart, Klal Yisrael would develop an unbreakable bond with Hashem—one that would last for generations.
Why Was the Beis HaMikdash Destroyed? A Deeper Perspective With this understanding, we can now appreciate the deeper meaning of the Gemara in Bava Metzia (30b), which states:
"Lo necherav Beis HaMikdash ela al shehe'emidu divreihem al hadin"—"The Beis HaMikdash was destroyed only because the people strictly adhered to the letter of the law and did not go beyond it."
At first glance, this is difficult to understand. The people followed halacha precisely—they upheld what was written in the Shulchan Aruch. If they did nothing wrong, why was such a severe punishment—the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash—warranted? After all, they were doing exactly what Hashem commanded! Why should they be blamed for following the strict requirements of halacha rather than going beyond them?
The Beis HaMikdash Was Built on Love, Not Just Law Based on what we have explained, the answer becomes clear. The destruction of the Beis HaMikdash was not merely a punishment; rather, it was a natural consequence of a fundamental shift in the spiritual state of the people.
The entire purpose of the Beis HaMikdash was to elevate Klal Yisrael in their love for Hashem. That is why every individual was required to donate to its construction. If Hashem had wanted only a spiritual dwelling place, He could have miraculously created one. Instead, He demanded that it be built from gold, silver, and copper, contributed by each person—because the very act of giving was designed to engender love. The Beis HaMikdash was not just a physical structure; it was a spiritual framework meant to foster deep emotional connection between Klal Yisrael and Hashem.
Now we can understand why the strict adherence to din—following the letter of the law without going beyond it—led to the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash.
If the entire foundation of the Beis HaMikdash was Ahavas Hashem, then the moment the people stopped serving Hashem with love—and instead, limited themselves to technical legal obligations—the very purpose of the Mikdash ceased to exist. It was not merely a matter of them failing to go beyond the letter of the law—the problem was that they no longer acted out of love.
One who truly loves Hashem does not ask what is the bare minimum required; rather, they seek opportunities to do more. The fact that Bnei Yisrael insisted on only following strict halacha, without doing anything lifnim mishuras hadin (beyond the letter of the law), revealed that their Avodas Hashem had become mechanical. As Mesillas Yesharim (Perek 19) explains, when a person serves Hashem with love, they naturally go beyond basic halachic obligations—because love compels one to do more. When Klal Yisrael reduced their Avodas Hashem to merely what was obligatory, it became clear that their Ahavas Hashem had diminished. The Beis HaMikdash, whose very essence was built on fostering love for Hashem, could no longer stand.
Thus, the destruction was not simply a punishment—it was a natural consequence. The Beis HaMikdash stood on a foundation of love, and when that foundation collapsed, so did the structure itself.
Torah: The Ultimate Generator of Ahavas Hashem This understanding sheds light on a passuk in Hoshea (6:6): "Ki chesed chafatzti v'lo zevach, v'da'as Elokim me'olos"—"For I desire kindness, not sacrifices, and knowledge of Hashem more than burnt offerings."
What does it mean that da'as Elokim (knowledge of Hashem) is greater than sacrifices? The Gemara explains that one who learns Torah attains da'as Elokim—a deep understanding of Hashem's will. But why is Torah learning considered superior even to karbanos, which express devotion to Hashem?
The answer lies in our theme: the ultimate way to develop love for Hashem is through learning Torah.
No other act—not even bringing korbanos—cultivates Ahavas Hashem as powerfully as immersing oneself in Torah. When a person studies Torah, they engage in the deepest form of connection with Hashem's wisdom and draw themselves closer to Him. The act of learning bonds a person to Hashem inextricably, creating a love that surpasses what korbanos can achieve.
This is why Hashem says that da'as Elokim is greater than Olah offerings. The Beis HaMikdash was meant to generate Ahavas Hashem, but when that love was lost, the structure collapsed. Torah learning, however, remains the strongest means of sustaining and deepening that love.
When one delves into Torah, they are not just acquiring knowledge—they are binding themselves to Hashem in the most profound way possible. It is through Torah that a person is wrapped in the cords of love and drawn ever closer to the Ribono Shel Olam.
May we merit to serve Hashem not only according to the strict letter of the law, but with a deep and genuine love, connecting to Him through giving, kindness, and His holy Torah. And may we soon witness the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash, founded on the love of Hashem in the hearts of all of Klal Yisrael!
Rabbi Moshe Revah Rosh HaYeshiva, HTC - Beis HaMidrash LaTorah mrevah2@touro.edu
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[1] Rashi in Pesachim (8b) indicates that one is considered a tzaddik only if he has both intentions—giving tzedakah and simultaneously hoping for his son's recovery. However, from Tosafos it appears that even if the tzedakah is given purely shelo lishma (for personal benefit alone), the individual is still regarded as a tzaddik gamur in relation to this mitzvah. [2] Rabbeinu Peretz (Pesachim 8b) explains that the term tzaddik gamur applies specifically to this particular mitzvah of tzedakah but does not necessarily reflect the person's overall righteousness. Rashi in Rosh Hashanah adds another dimension, implying that one is deemed a tzaddik only if he habitually gives tzedakah in this manner, suggesting that consistency in such giving reflects a deeper level of commitment. The Chazon Yechezkel offers yet another perspective, arguing that a person who believes so strongly in the power of tzedakah to affect his son's fate demonstrates a profound level of emunah, which itself is a mark of righteousness. [3] The Chofetz Chaim raises an interesting challenge: The Gemara (Pesachim 8a) derives from this principle that a person may conduct a bedikas chametz (search for chametz) even in a location where there is some risk of danger (e.g., where scorpions may be present). The reasoning is that even if one's search is partially motivated by a desire to find a lost item (such as a needle), the act still qualifies as a mitzvah, and mitzvos protect you. However, this raises a difficulty—if the requirement of lishma for mitzvot is absolute, except by tzedaka, how can the Gemara learn to the mitzvah of Bedikas Chometz? Perhaps the answer lies in the nature of bedikas chametz as a result-based mitzvah—what truly matters is that the chametz is eliminated, regardless of the intent behind the search. [4] It is important to distinguish between different uses of the term lishma. The lishma required for korbanos, gittin, tzitzis, and similar mitzvos refers to a halachic designation—ensuring that the item is created with the proper legal intent. However, the lishma discussed in the context of the Mishkan donations seems to be a matter of kavana in mitzvos—a focus on the inner intention behind the act. These are two separate concepts, as pointed out by Birkas Shmuel (Gittin 10(, though a deeper analysis of this distinction falls beyond the scope of this article. | 
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