Terumah: 5786 - "And they shall take for Me an offering": Why does it say 'take for Me'? Several fascinating explanations. Also: the connection to Purim and about 'Purim-Rav'. Presented by Rabbi Shimon Sonnenfeld,…

00:03 Speaker 1 We have two topics: the weekly parsha, Parshas Terumah, and Purim, which is already just around the corner. In connection with Parshas Terumah, the Torah says, “They shall take for Me an offering from every person whose heart moves him to give.” There are many, many explanations of this verse. Why does it say “they shall take for Me”? Why not “they shall give”? What does “they shall take for Me” mean? There are many explanations, and we’ll touch on them. One explanation relates to the verse, “He tells His words to Yaakov, His statutes and ordinances to Yisroel”: what Hashem does, He tells us to do down here. In other words, Hashem also gives an offering. That’s what the Torah is saying. Hashem says, “Speak to the children of Israel, and they shall take for Me an offering”—take an offering from Me too. What offering does Hashem give? It says that the precious stones for the choshen and the ephod in the Mishkan were brought by the clouds. Yes. It says, “And the nesi’im brought the stones for the ephod and the choshen.” The plain meaning of nesi’im is the leaders of the tribes, but there is an interpretation that it means clouds, as in the verse, “Clouds and wind, but no rain.” So it was the clouds that brought them. That was the offering Hashem Himself brought to the Mishkan. “They shall take for Me an offering”—Hashem gives an offering too. There is another explanation of “they shall take for Me an offering.” After all, Hashem says, “The silver is Mine and the gold is Mine.” Everything belongs to Hashem. So what does “they shall take for Me an offering” mean? It all belongs to Him anyway. The point, though, is “everyone whose heart moves him to give”—the generosity of the heart. True, the silver, the gold, and everything else belong to Hashem. But when a Jew gives it with a generous heart, that is the point: he gives it with a generous

02:31 Speaker 1 heart. That is “they shall take for Me an offering,” “everyone whose heart moves him to give.” As for Purim, there is the well-known saying that Yom Kippurim is like Purim. The question is: this isn’t just a play on words; it means something. What is the similarity between Yom Kippur and Purim? There are several explanations. One is that both involve lots. On Yom Kippur there were two goats, one for Hashem and one for Azazel, and a lot was drawn. On Purim, too, we find that the wicked Haman cast a pur, a lot. So there is something the two have in common, something connecting Purim and Yom Kippur. But that still doesn’t explain why we say Yom Kippur is only like Purim. That would mean Purim is somehow higher, more significant. Why, and in what way? They have something in common, fine, but why is Yom Kippur only like Purim? The Rebbe explains that what we accomplish on Yom Kippur through fasting and affliction, we accomplish on Purim through joy, through feasting and rejoicing, through a meal. That is Purim’s particular advantage: the very things we accomplish on Yom Kippur through affliction, we accomplish on Purim through joy. There is another interesting explanation. In Igeres Hateshuvah, the Alter Rebbe quotes a braisa: there are three categories of atonement. For someone who violated a positive commandment, it says that once “he repents, he does not move from there

04:37 Speaker 2 until he is forgiven.”

04:37 Speaker 1 Until he is forgiven. In other words, as soon as he regrets it and repents, he is forgiven. If he violated a prohibition, then repentance holds the matter in abeyance and Yom Kippur atones. Repentance alone is no longer enough; he has to wait for Yom Kippur. If he committed a transgression punishable by kareis or death by the court, then Yom Kippur is no longer enough: repentance and Yom Kippur hold the matter in abeyance, and death atones. Suffering cleanses. So the particular power of Yom Kippur to atone applies to a prohibition that does not carry kareis or death by the court. If it does carry kareis or death by the court, Yom Kippur alone does not atone; suffering is also needed. But the Gemara adds something the Alter Rebbe does not bring here: if there was a desecration of Hashem’s name, nothing else suffices; only death atones. What happened on Purim? The Gemara in Megillah asks why such a decree was issued against that generation—to destroy, kill, and annihilate them. It was because they took part in Achashverosh’s feast, where there was an element of idolatry and thus a desecration of Hashem’s name. In other words, on Purim the Jewish people were forgiven even for a desecration of Hashem’s name. Purim accomplished even more than Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur atones for a prohibition that does not carry kareis or death by the court, but Purim atoned for a desecration of Hashem’s name. That is why we say Yom Kippur is only like Purim. Purim is on a much higher level, much more significant. Let’s finish with a short story about the grandfather, the rabbi of Jerusalem. He once called himself the Purim rabbi. Nobody understood what he meant—it sounded as though he was belittling the standing and role of a rabbi. So he explained

06:41 Speaker 1 what he meant. He said: People mistakenly think a Purim rabbi is someone who dresses up as a rabbi, makes jokes, and gives all sorts of speeches. That is not what a Purim rabbi is. The real idea, he explained, is that on Purim there is a mitzvah: “A person is obligated to become intoxicated on Purim until he does not know.” What happens if a question comes up on Purim? You need a rabbi. But when people come to the rabbi, he has fulfilled the mitzvah of becoming intoxicated and cannot issue a ruling. In the old days they would slaughter animals and prepare the food on Purim itself. A question would come up, and the rabbi could not answer. What did they do? They appointed a rabbi who did not drink. He would not become intoxicated, so there would be someone to ask if a question arose. That was what he meant. At the time, he was fighting strongly against the Zionist movement, which wanted to use money to bribe the institutions and rabbis in Jerusalem and bring them under its influence. They would give them money and then have control and a say in religious matters. He fought that very strongly. Times were very hard then, and some people did not withstand that test. But, he said, “They won’t be able to intoxicate me.” He would not become intoxicated. That was why he called himself a Purim rabbi. May we have a joyful month, a happy Purim, and good news. Amen.