Dvar Torah delivered on a Thursday morning

Vayakhel Moshe et kol adat bnei Yisrael: Moshe gathers the Israelites and reminds them to keep shabbat, then describes the needs of the mishkan and puts out a call for donations. And the donations come flowing in until the artisans involved come to Moshe and say, "enough, tell the people to stop donating." So Moshe tells the people to stop giving, and they do. Then the artisans continue their work in constructing the elaborate mishkan.

Wait, rewind that back?

Moshe has to tell them to stop giving.

Stop giving!?
We've all tried lobbying for volunteers before,
fund raising,
even just trying to rustle up a gabbai before minyan actually starts--
we love you, Jes.

We've all been in that position,
it's like herding cats, and sometimes
you just end up doing it all
yourself.

We all give. In fact,
We give a lot.
The fact that all of you are awake
And sitting here right now
Listening to me
Proves that.

We give a lot.
We're busy, we're exhausted, we're broke, and sometimes,
we just have nothing left to give.
So how can Torah seemingly ask of us
to give any more?

But that's not what it's asking.

In that moment, at that time, every single Israelite turned into
Us.
Each of them was there, ready
To give everything they had to this project
And was it for the sake of the mishkan that Moshe asked them to stop giving?
Or because they were giving too much,
Each one according to their means?

Rambam tells us to give tzedaka
But not enough to impovrish ourselves.

If the concern was not for the Mishkan but for the people,
Why did it take the skilled laborers to make Moshe aware that there was a problem?
Because as the leader of such an enthusiastic people,
Moshe gave the most,
and was left with
the least.
So someone else had to say to him,
Stop
It's too much
stop
working
so hard.

So Moshe commands us: enough already!
Give, yes, of course,
Give as much as you can
Without impovrishing yourself.
Sometimes, even when it seems that others
aren't giving as much as you
or aren't giving enough
It's okay to rest
It's okay to take a breather
read a romance novel
play a videogame.

I'm not saying, God forbid,
to give up;
we all have those projects that but for us
are never going to get done
Give to them, yes,
But give judiciously.
Don't give your relationship.
Don't give your family.
Don't give your health.
Give,
but don't burn yourself
out

You're still in the desert. If you burn out now,
You'll have no strength left for when you cross the Jordan
and the real work
begins.

Rabbinically Rashi I

Rabbinically Rashi I: Your Children Will Surprise you



To be delivered in front of a teachers’ meeting, either Hebrew School or Day School, to begin the meeting.

We all know the story of Avram’s three visitors. Avram is sitting in the opening of his tent, possibly recovering from his circumcision at the end of the previous perek, and he looks up and sees three people there. Immediately he jumps up, runs around giving orders, sets before his guests a lavish feast. They reveal that they are angels, messengers from God, and they are to announce to Avram that within the year he will have a son. But what was Avram doing in the opening of his tent in the first place? Not only in the opening of his tent—bepetach haohel—but also “kekhom hayom,” in the heat of the day.
When Rashi looks at the line, “kekhom hayom,” he sees in it more than just a weather report. For him, this is an insight into the relationship between God and Avram. Rashi asks, why does it say “as in the heat of the day,” “KEkhom hayom,” not simply “in the heat of the day,” “BEchom hayom?” He answers that it was in fact what should have been the hottest time of day, but that God, thinking to spare a convalescent Avram from trouble, had removed the sun from its usual place so as not to drive guests toward his tent seeking shelter. God is aware of Avram’s legendary hospitality and eagerness to observe the mitzvah of hakhnasat orchim. What God doesn’t count on, Rashi says, was that Avram would feel disappointed when no guests arrived, that he was actually sitting at the opening of his tent, waiting for guests. When God sees how sorry Avram is not to have guests to feed, God sends Avram three angels disguised as human beings, and so God observes the mitzvah of visiting the sick, while giving Avram the chance to observe his favorite mitzvah, hakhnasat orchim.
As teachers, it can be very tempting to underestimate our students. Sometimes that even seems like what they want. They seem to kvetch and complain about every little thing, and it can feel like pulling teeth to get them thinking about anything. But when we give in, when we stop pushing, when we decide to just let it go, just this once, take it easy, maybe play a game or show a movie because we think that’s what they want, that is when we fail them.
We can even sometimes fail our children out of love, out of the wish to make life easier. We try to step in and help when we see them struggle, and we forget that sometimes the struggle can be the most rewarding part of the experience, that an A+ isn’t worth much if it comes too easily, and that sometimes, as the poet Taylor Mali puts it, a C+ can “feel like a congressional medal of honor.”
Sometimes the student who struggles needs an extra hand here and there, such as those with learning disabilities who need sometimes serious accommodations to be able to do the work. But those accommodations are there to help us as teachers to take these students seriously, not to forget them or give up on them or just give them the answers to keep them abreast of the class. When we look at each student not only for where their difficulties are, but also for their strengths, their interests, and their passions, then we cannot fail them.
And when we do—as we will—underestimate our students, then it is up to us to do as God does for Avram and reevaluate, reconsider, rethink the plan we made, the decision we came to. We may need to swallow our pride in order to do this. We may need to send a piece of ourselves, in human form, unguarded and accessible, into the student’s life to let them know that we really are thinking of them, that we haven’t given up, that we know what heights they can achieve and that we do expect greatness.