(א) וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר יהוה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר׃ (ב) דַּבֵּר֙ אֶל־בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל וְיִקְחוּ־לִ֖י תְּרוּמָ֑ה מֵאֵ֤ת כׇּל־אִישׁ֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר יִדְּבֶ֣נּוּ לִבּ֔וֹ תִּקְח֖וּ אֶת־תְּרוּמָתִֽי׃ (ג) וְזֹאת֙ הַתְּרוּמָ֔ה אֲשֶׁ֥ר תִּקְח֖וּ מֵאִתָּ֑ם זָהָ֥ב וָכֶ֖סֶף וּנְחֹֽשֶׁת׃ (ד) וּתְכֵ֧לֶת וְאַרְגָּמָ֛ן וְתוֹלַ֥עַת שָׁנִ֖י וְשֵׁ֥שׁ וְעִזִּֽים׃ (ה) וְעֹרֹ֨ת אֵילִ֧ם מְאׇדָּמִ֛ים וְעֹרֹ֥ת תְּחָשִׁ֖ים וַעֲצֵ֥י שִׁטִּֽים׃ (ו) שֶׁ֖מֶן לַמָּאֹ֑ר בְּשָׂמִים֙ לְשֶׁ֣מֶן הַמִּשְׁחָ֔ה וְלִקְטֹ֖רֶת הַסַּמִּֽים׃ (ז) אַבְנֵי־שֹׁ֕הַם וְאַבְנֵ֖י מִלֻּאִ֑ים לָאֵפֹ֖ד וְלַחֹֽשֶׁן׃ (ח) וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם׃ (ט) כְּכֹ֗ל אֲשֶׁ֤ר אֲנִי֙ מַרְאֶ֣ה אוֹתְךָ֔ אֵ֚ת תַּבְנִ֣ית הַמִּשְׁכָּ֔ן וְאֵ֖ת תַּבְנִ֣ית כׇּל־כֵּלָ֑יו וְכֵ֖ן תַּעֲשֽׂוּ׃ {ס}
(1) יהוה spoke to Moses, saying: (2) Tell the Israelite people to bring Me gifts; you shall accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart is so moved. (3) And these are the gifts that you shall accept from them: gold, silver, and copper; (4) blue, purple, and crimson yarns, fine linen, goats’ hair; (5) tanned ram skins, dolphin skins, and acacia wood; (6) oil for lighting, spices for the anointing oil and for the aromatic incense; (7) lapis lazuli and other stones for setting, for the ephod and for the breastpiece. (8) And let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them. (9) Exactly as I show you—the pattern of the Tabernacle and the pattern of all its furnishings—so shall you make it.
In order to have God’s presence dwell within us, we needed to be acting from the pull of our hearts. Not from a feeling that we should be giving. And we needed to give only those particular gifts which our hearts impelled us to give. Rabbi Ora Weiss
(א) וַיַּ֣רְא הָעָ֔ם כִּֽי־בֹשֵׁ֥שׁ מֹשֶׁ֖ה לָרֶ֣דֶת מִן־הָהָ֑ר וַיִּקָּהֵ֨ל הָעָ֜ם עַֽל־אַהֲרֹ֗ן וַיֹּאמְר֤וּ אֵלָיו֙ ק֣וּם ׀ עֲשֵׂה־לָ֣נוּ אֱלֹהִ֗ים אֲשֶׁ֤ר יֵֽלְכוּ֙ לְפָנֵ֔ינוּ כִּי־זֶ֣ה ׀ מֹשֶׁ֣ה הָאִ֗ישׁ אֲשֶׁ֤ר הֶֽעֱלָ֙נוּ֙ מֵאֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרַ֔יִם לֹ֥א יָדַ֖עְנוּ מֶה־הָ֥יָה לֽוֹ׃ (ב) וַיֹּ֤אמֶר אֲלֵהֶם֙ אַהֲרֹ֔ן פָּֽרְקוּ֙ נִזְמֵ֣י הַזָּהָ֔ב אֲשֶׁר֙ בְּאׇזְנֵ֣י נְשֵׁיכֶ֔ם בְּנֵיכֶ֖ם וּבְנֹתֵיכֶ֑ם וְהָבִ֖יאוּ אֵלָֽי׃ (ג) וַיִּתְפָּֽרְקוּ֙ כׇּל־הָעָ֔ם אֶת־נִזְמֵ֥י הַזָּהָ֖ב אֲשֶׁ֣ר בְּאׇזְנֵיהֶ֑ם וַיָּבִ֖יאוּ אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹֽן׃ (ד) וַיִּקַּ֣ח מִיָּדָ֗ם וַיָּ֤צַר אֹתוֹ֙ בַּחֶ֔רֶט וַֽיַּעֲשֵׂ֖הוּ עֵ֣גֶל מַסֵּכָ֑ה וַיֹּ֣אמְר֔וּ אֵ֤לֶּה אֱלֹהֶ֙יךָ֙ יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל אֲשֶׁ֥ר הֶעֱל֖וּךָ מֵאֶ֥רֶץ מִצְרָֽיִם׃ (ה) וַיַּ֣רְא אַהֲרֹ֔ן וַיִּ֥בֶן מִזְבֵּ֖חַ לְפָנָ֑יו וַיִּקְרָ֤א אַֽהֲרֹן֙ וַיֹּאמַ֔ר חַ֥ג לַיהוה מָחָֽר׃
(1) When the people saw that Moses was so long in coming down from the mountain, the people gathered against Aaron and said to him, “Come, make us a god who shall go before us, for that fellow Moses—the man who brought us from the land of Egypt—we do not know what has happened to him.” (2) Aaron said to them, “[You men,] take off the gold rings that are on the ears of your wives, your sons, and your daughters, and bring them to me.” (3) And all the people took off the gold rings that were in their ears and brought them to Aaron. (4) This he took from them and cast in a mold, and made it into a molten calf. And they exclaimed, “This is your god, O Israel, who brought you out of the land of Egypt!” (5) When Aaron saw this, he built an altar before it; and Aaron announced: “Tomorrow shall be a festival of יהוה!”
A Morning of Fear, A Call to Love
This morning, as I drove toward Pico Union Project, I saw flashing lights two blocks away—dozens of police cars, SWAT-like vehicles, helicopters overhead. It was clear something big was happening.
As I pulled into the parking lot, neighbors rushed up to me, their faces filled with fear. In Spanish—words I understood without needing translation—they told me: immigration raid.
Fear spreads fast. People were scared, some panicked. I reassured them as best I could and walked toward the scene.
Homeland Security officers stood outside a house—faces masked, rifles drawn. I asked what was happening. Silence. I asked again. A cold stare.
"None of your business," one of them finally said.
But this is my business—this is our community. I asked for his supervisor. He turned and walked away.
I crossed the street, looking for answers. Another officer assured me it wasn’t a raid and that there was no need to worry. But the fear was real, just like their uniforms—no matter what words they used.
By the time I returned to PUP, hundreds of people were lined up for Vida Sana, our weekly farmers' market. I encouraged everyone to come inside. Bianca and George shared updates, offering reassurance. Our yoga instructor led deep breathing. Helicopters circled. The tension hung heavy in the air.
I went back to the house up the street. The crowd had grown. Reporters arrived. Dozens of concerned activists had come to show solidarity. But the people who lived in the neighborhood, the ones most affected, stood back—watching, waiting from a distance.
The activists, well-intentioned, shouted. The tension escalated. Some blocked HSI vehicles, banged on their cars. I tried to de-escalate—"Yell, take pictures, but don’t give them a reason to see you as a threat." But I was an outsider to this group, and my words were lost in the noise.
In the end, one person was detained—someone who didn’t even live in the home. The agents got what they came for. Following orders, they executed a show of force, burning fear into the minds of immigrants who were doing nothing more than living their lives.
What did I learn? That will take time to process. But I know this: fear is a weapon, and our greatest resistance is love.
Now, more than ever, we must stand with our neighbors—not just in moments of crisis, but every day. We must be a presence that offers safety, dignity, and hope. We must love our neighbors as we would wish to be loved. Shabbat Shalom. #loveyourneighbor #loveyourneighborasyouloveyourself #ShabbatShalom #shelter #fearnomore
-Craig Taubman, Facebook post, 2/28/25
If a person of learning participates in public affairs and serves as judge or arbiter, that person gives stability to the land... But if a person sits in their home and says to themselves, “What have the affairs of society to do with me?... Why should I trouble myself with the people’s voices of protest? Let my soul dwell in peace!”—if one does this, they overthrow the world. - Tanchuma Mishpatim 2 (translation by Hazon)
R. Shalom Noah Barzofsky, the Slonimer Rebbe (20th century, Israel), explains in his Torah commentary that since the creation of the human, no two persons have been alike. Each comes into the world with a special purpose, a task that is their own, letaken – to fix, to repair – the world. No one can fix what is someone else’s tafkid – their work in the world. God gives each the traits they need and enables their hands to accomplish the repair that is their work. (Netivot Shalom, Commentary on Lech Lecha) Rabbi Ora Weiss https://truah.org/resources/follow-your-heart-parshat-terumah/
(טז) הוּא הָיָה אוֹמֵר, לֹא עָלֶיךָ הַמְּלָאכָה לִגְמֹר, וְלֹא אַתָּה בֶן חוֹרִין לִבָּטֵל מִמֶּנָּה. אִם לָמַדְתָּ תוֹרָה הַרְבֵּה, נוֹתְנִים לְךָ שָׂכָר הַרְבֵּה. וְנֶאֱמָן הוּא בַעַל מְלַאכְתְּךָ שֶׁיְּשַׁלֵּם לְךָ שְׂכַר פְּעֻלָּתֶךָ. וְדַע מַתַּן שְׂכָרָן שֶׁל צַדִּיקִים לֶעָתִיד לָבֹא:
(16) He [Rabbi Tarfon] used to say: It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it; If you have studied much Torah, you shall be given much reward. Faithful is your employer to pay you the reward of your labor; And know that the grant of reward unto the righteous is in the age to come.
I am falling in love with my imperfections
The way I never get the sink really clean,
forget to check my oil, lose my car in parking lots,
miss appointments I have written down
I am just a little late.
I am learning to love the small bumps on my face,
the big bump of my nose, my hairless scalp,
chipped nail polish, toes that overlap.
Learning to love the open-ended mystery of not knowing why
I am learning to fail to make lists,
use my time wisely, read the books I should.
Instead, I practice inconsistency, irrationality, forgetfulness.
Probably I should hang my clothes neatly in the closet all the shirts together, then the pants,
send [Holiday] cards, or better yet a letter telling of my perfect family.
But I’d rather waste time listening to the rain,
or lying underneath my cat learning to purr.
I used to fill every moment with something I could cross off later.
Perfect was the laundry done and folded
all my papers graded the whole truth and nothing but…
Now the empty mind is what I seek,
the formless shape, the strange off-centre, sometimes fictional me
-Elizabeth Carlson, “Imperfection” from Teaching with Fire