In our previous article, we began exploring the mistake and tikkun of the Nesiim. To review: during the chanukas haMishkan (the inauguration of the Tabernacle), the Nesiim (princes) of each Shevet (tribe) contributed spectacular gifts toward the Mishkan (Bamidbar, perek 7). Chazal explain that these donations were intended to be a tikkun (rectification) for their previous sin (see Rashi, Bamidbar 7:3; Sifri, Naso 1:150). Earlier in the Torah, the Nesiim are criticized for their inappropriate approach regarding their donations toward the building of the Mishkan (Rashi, Shemos 35:27). They delayed in donating gifts for the Mishkan, and in the interim the Jewish People donated everything needed for the Mishkan, leaving the Nesiim with nothing to give.
The Nesiim are criticized for their lack of alacrity in donating to the Mishkan, and it is apparent that they realized their mistake, as they tried to rectify it by contributing elaborate gifts during the chanukas haMishkan. However, we must ask what the Nesiim did that was so improper. In order to understand this episode, we began exploring the nature and meaning of chesed, loosely translated as kindness and giving.
Two Forms of Chesed
Beyond the varying degrees and levels of chesed, the Maharal explains that there are two distinct forms of giving. The first is responsive, when a person gives only that which is needed. This means giving only when a person sees a need or when someone asks for help. The drawback of this form of giving is that it is only done because it is compelled; it is caused by an external need. If this individual had not seen another in need, he would not have helped. While giving in this situation can still be done with pure intentions, there is a possibility that the giving is motivated by guilt or to avoid feeling the emotional pain of another person’s lack. If you see a person in dire need of help, looking much less fortunate than yourself, you tend to feel bad for them. You want to help them, but you also want to make yourself feel better to assuage your own feelings of guilt. (Another possible motivation is to prevent potential self-hatred. If we walk away without helping this person in need, we may feel like a rotten person. Therefore, to save ourselves from this emotional pain, we may help this person out.)
The second form of chesed is proactive, i.e., when you give purely for the sake of giving. This reflects a compelling desire to give and help others. In this case, there is no external cause for giving; rather, it stems from a deep internal desire to expand outwards and help others. Instead of waiting reactively for people to come to you, you proactively seek out opportunities to help. In a deep sense, this form of chesed does not stem from someone else’s need to receive but from your internal desire to give. You will therefore happily give to someone, even if they aren’t in need and even if they already have what you wish to give them.
Avraham: Ish Chesed
This is why Avraham is the ultimate paradigm and exemplar of a ba’al chesed. The four walls of his tent were continually open, declaring to travelers that they were always welcome. On the third day after his bris milah, the most painful point of time in the healing process, he sat outside in the blazing sun, waiting and hoping for travelers whom he could help. Rashi explains that Hashem actually made that day unusually hot with the specific intent to discourage people from traveling (Bereishis 18:1); this way, Avraham could have a day off to rest, free from travelers. However, it was more distressing for Avraham to be unable to perform chesed than to help guests while in this physical state. Hashem therefore sent him the three angels as guests. Avraham had a constant, overwhelming desire to perform chesed. As such, when Sodom was destroyed and travelers stopped coming his way, Avraham moved his tent so that he could continue hosting guests and perform chesed.
There is an interesting question that arises from the story of Avraham and the three malachim. Much attention is given to Avraham’s exemplary chesed when he fed and hosted these three malachim. However, according to many opinions, these angels did not become human, even when encountering Avraham, and therefore had no need for the food that Avraham served them. And even according to the opinions that they did eat the food, it was simply out of courtesy. Why, then, is this the ultimate paradigm of chesed?
Based on what we have said, the answer is clear. The ultimate act of chesed is one that is spontaneous, proactive, and stems from an inner desire to give, as opposed to originating in someone else’s desire and need to receive. In this case, not only did the desire to give stem completely — and proactively — from within Avraham, but Hashem gave him a situation in which he could give so purely that the recipients didn’t even need that which he gave them. In other words, he was able to give without being compelled by the recipients’ need.
Understanding the Nesiim
We can now understand the mistake, and the subsequent rectification, of the Nesiim. When it came to the building of the Mishkan, the Nesiim were reactive. Their calculation may have been rational and sound, but that itself was the problem. When you truly love someone, you give for the sake of giving, spontaneously, as an expression of overwhelming love. If you love Hashem, you eagerly give to the Mishkan — for the sake of giving — even if there may be overlap between the gifts. The practical concern of specific inventory can be dealt with at a later stage. By waiting until the end to give their gifts, the Nesiim displayed a slight lack in their love for Hashem.
The Nesiim’s Tikkun
The Nesiim rectified their mistake at the chanukas haMishkan when they gave their gifts spontaneously and proactively. Whereas they gave last when it came to the building of the Mishkan, they gave first at its inauguration.
But there is another unique feature of these gifts. The commentators note that all twelve of the Nesiim gave identical gifts at the chanukas haMishkan. Yet, the Torah enumerates each gift individually, repeating the same exact description over and over again. This seems redundant and unnecessary — why did each Nasi give the same exact gift as their fellow eleven Nesiim, and why does the Torah detail all twelve of them? But this, in fact, was their ultimate rectification. Their sin lay in being reactive; their tikkun came through proactivity. Their sin lay in over-calculating and worrying about overlapping their gifts; their tikkun came specifically through giving the same exact gift, an explicit expression of repetition, and a true expression of giving for the sake of giving.
Living Proactively
When you wake up in the morning, how do you start your day? Are you reactive to that which comes your way, or do you proactively pave your path? Success does not come by accident; it comes from mindful planning, intense commitment, and consistent execution. If we live a reactive life, we will wake up one day and wonder why we are so far from our desired destination. True success requires proactivity, and the virtue of proactivity stems from the midah of chesed — proactively seeking ways to do good, to help others, to improve the world around us. May we be inspired to become so full of love that we proactively seek out ways to contribute to those around us.
Rabbi Shmuel Reichman is the author of the bestselling book, The Journey to Your Ultimate Self, which serves as an inspiring gateway into deeper Jewish thought. He is an international speaker, educator, and the CEO of Self-Mastery Academy. After obtaining his BA from Yeshiva University, he received s’micha from RIETS, a master’s degree in education, a master’s degree in Jewish Thought, and then spent a year studying at Harvard. He is currently pursuing a PhD at UChicago. To invite Rabbi Reichman to speak in your community or to enjoy more of his deep and inspiring content, visit his website: www.ShmuelReichman.com