This week’s prophetic portion is
NOT about mystical visions of G-d experienced by the prophets. It is not about
dire warnings of prophets for the people of Israel to repent or face punishment
from G-d. This week’s prophetic portion is NOT about a prophet bring hope and
comfort to the oppressed Jewish people. No, this week’s Haftorah portion is
much more prosaic than those lofty subjects. This week’s Haftorah portion is
about building maintenance. It is about fixing a leaky roof and a crumbling
foundation, about repairing drafty windows and plastering cracked porticos.
The year is 813 BCE. Solomon’s
Temple is about 140 years old, and is showing some wear and tear. King Jehoash,
who was only seven years old when he ascended to the throne in Jerusalem, wants
to raise money to repair the Temple. So he tells the priests who run the Temple
that they should make the repairs out of donations that they receive from their
benefactors – those who give contributions to the priests. Apparently this idea
does not go over so well with the priests, because several years later when the
King inspects the Temple, he finds that no repairs have been made at all! The King then tries another tactic. He instructs
craftsmen to make a chest and bore a hole in its lid. He places the chest at
the entrance of the Temple, and stations guards at it. Whenever a person coming
into the Temple wants to make a donation, that person would hand it to the
guards, and the guards would place it through the hole in the lid and into the
chest. When the guards see that there is a lot of money in the chest, the High
Priest and the royal scribe would empty the chest, count the money, and deliver
it directly to the general contractor in charge of the Temple repairs. He, in
turn would pay the carpenters, masons, stonecutters and other laborers for
their work in repairing the Temple.
Behold, the first written
account of a Tzedaka Box! No longer
chests with holes bored in the lids, these small boxes have been a feature in
Jewish life ever since. In many Jewish homes it is the custom to put money into
a Tzedaka box before the lighting of the Shabbat and holiday candles. It is
certainly a wonderful way of teaching children the value of the mitzvah of
giving Tzedaka. In keeping with the idea of Hiddur Mitzvah, or adorning or
beautifying a mitzvah, many Tzedakah boxes are themselves works of art. I can’t
think of a better way of reinforcing the value of giving to our children than
making this part of a family’s Friday night ritual.
Perhaps the most well-known Tzedaka
box is the Jewish National Fund’s “Blue Box”. Blue boxes were once found in every
home and Jewish classroom from the United States to Russia. The idea to collect
money for Israel through a Tzedaka box came soon after the establishment of the
Jewish National Fund by the 5th Zionist conference in 1901. A bank
clerk, Haim Kleinman from Galicia placed a box in a prominent place in his
office with the words, “Eretz Yisrael” – for the Land of Israel – on it. He
wrote a letter to the Zionist newspaper in Vienna, Die Welt, saying that he had
raised a remarkable sum through donations to the Zionist cause in this way. He
further suggested that the Jewish National Fund follow suit and distribute
Tzedaka boxes in homes and offices. The blue box has become not only a way to
collect money for Israel, but it serves as a powerful symbol of the connection
between Israel and the Jewish people worldwide.
Since that time other good causes
have taken it upon themselves to distribute Tzedaka boxes with their own names
written on the box. I want to conclude tonight’s sermon by sharing a true story
by Rabbi Dov Peretz Elkins. He writes that a prominent rabbi in Boston was
attending a housewarming of a wealthy couple in his congregation. People were
oohing and aaahing at the unusual pieces of furniture in the living room, the
original pieces of artwork that were placed throughout the house, even the
gold-plated bathroom tissue dispenser in the restroom. The homeowners noted
that they had paid top-dollar to the best interior decorator in the Boston
area, but it had been well worth it.
After about an hour, the elderly
mother of the hostess, who lived with her daughter, motioned to the rabbi to
come with her. They left their posh surroundings and climbed the steps to the
second floor, where she had her bedroom. As they entered the bedroom, the woman
pointed her finger toward the windowsill. The rabbi was astonished by what he
saw.
The woman did not point to a rare
piece of furniture or to a valuable antique. Arrayed on the windowsill were two
rows of tin Tzedakah boxes – “pushkes” in Yiddish – for every imaginable
charitable cause. There were boxes for hospitals, for orphanages, for
yeshivahs, for women’s shelters, for children who were blind, for the deaf –
for every single Jewish institution she could find that distributed boxes for
charity.
“Now this”, said the woman proudly,
“THIS is interior decorating”.
Shabbat Shalom