By Greg Marzullo
In an almost charming moment in the wilderness, the people
of Israel go overboard in a good way. Moses has commanded that everyone bring
various items - tanned hides, gems, yarns, oil, spices - in order to create the
tabernacle and its glorious surroundings. As soon as word goes out, people come
in droves bearing heaps of gifts, until finally the craftsmen take Moses aside
and say, "The people are bringing much more than enough for doing the work
that the Lord has commanded us to do."
Moses tells the crowds, "No man or woman is to make
anything else as an offering for the sanctuary."
When do we actually give so much that we're told to
stop?
More commonly, when asked to give, we ignore the asker
completely (e.g. a homeless person on the street or one of the hoards of
Greenpeace/Planned Parenthood/Save the Children workers outside the Metros).
Even on occasions when giving couldn't be simpler (e.g. at the register of
Whole Foods where we're spending a paycheck on gluten-free cookies made with
organic chia seeds but can't donate a dollar to help women form businesses in
underdeveloped nations), we still say "no."
Here, in this beautiful moment of the Torah when the people
of Israel are out in the wilderness, they give everything they have, various
men and women "whose hearts made them willing to bring anything."
They're giving it all up for the God who delivered them from slavery in Egypt.
Yogic thought has a similar idea in that we're constantly
asked to renounce all the fruits of our actions, doing everything, instead, for
the Divine. Each word we speak, each thing we do becomes a stick of incense, a
lit candle or a piece of fruit left at the altar of God. Going one step
further, God is living in every person and creature we meet, so now the altar
isn't in the temple, but in the world.
In the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna, an avatar of God, says to his
mortal disciple Arjuna, "Those who possess this wisdom have equal regard
for all. They see the same Self in a spiritual aspirant and an outcaste, in an
elephant, a cow, and a dog."
Later on, "When a person responds to the joys and
sorrows of others as if they were his own, he has attained the highest state of
spiritual union."
And in an especially beautiful passage: "They alone see
truly who see the Lord the same in every creature, who see the deathless in the
hearts of all that die. Seeing the same Lord everywhere, they do not harm
themselves or others. Thus they attain the supreme goal."
If God exists in all beings, then the Holy of Holies exists
within each person, too. The tabernacle is a living, breathing thing that gains
in value because we give honor to it, not just through the mouthing of prayers
but through giving our all to God.
So, the next time someone asks you for some change, even
when you don't have it, be like the Israelites and give whatever you do have: a
smile, a conversation, a renewal of the humanity between people and the chance
to worship God.
