February 26, 2011 | 22 Adar I 5771

Of all the blessings for which I might praise God, among the most significant is Caller ID.

That’s right, Caller ID. Thank God for Caller ID. You know why Caller ID is such a blessing? Because I can ignore the incessant charitable appeals I receive. After all, it’s my money. I know to whom I want to make contributions. I don’t need to hear about your organization! But every now and then, in a moment of weakness, I pick up the phone, and I listen to the appeal. “Mr. Sandler, your contribution of x dollars will help an inner city child go to camp this summer.”

For a moment, I hesitate.  In that moment it’s that usual thought that runs through my head — I mentioned it a moment ago — “It’s my money and I’ll give it to the organizations I want to support.” Then another moment passes …and I make a commitment to the organization the caller represents.

Does that ever happen to you? You don’t intend to make a contribution to that organization when you are solicited, but something occurs in that moment on the phone, an intangible, unspoken transaction of some sort, and you decide to make a contribution.

What happened in that moment? In the words of today’s parasha, you became a “nediv lev,” one whose heart moved him or her.

These words, in the form “nediv libo,” appear in a verse that, to me, is like that solicitation I just described. Moses reprises an instruction he first gave three weeks ago in Parshat Terumah.

“Kechu may’itchem Terumah l’Adonai.”

“Kechu” – It’s a command in Hebrew.

“Take from you gifts for God!”

“Take?”  “But I don’t want to give…”

“Gifts?”  “But you’re telling me I’m obligated to give.”

And now a moment passes… and the Israelites presumably give with “nediv lev,” a willing heart. In fact, later on in parasha, we know they contributed so much material that Moses had to ask them to stop!

What happened during that silent moment?   Why was that which was commanded to be taken from the Israelites now given willingly? More importantly, today, what factors can transform us from hesitant to willing hearts?

What can move us from acting on a value best summarized by the word “mine” and instead give as a “nediv lev?” Our parasha suggests one answer.  I would like to suggest two others.

Remember that these last two Torah portions in the Book of Exodus are largely about building and furnishing the desert Tabernacle. Yet when Moses assembles the community to give instructions regarding contributions of material for the Tabernacle, he doesn’t immediately begin with those instructions. Instead, he begins with the mitzvah of Shabbat.

This isn’t the first time the Israelites have heard this commandment. After all, they stood at Sinai and heard the 10 commandments. So why now? Why does Moses remind the Israelites about Shabbat immediately before he shares the awkward instruction commanding that materials for the Tabernacle be taken from willing hearts?

Why? Because Shabbat was meant to correct the thinking and orientation of the Israelites. The Tabernacle and all that it symbolized was important. But it shouldn’t obscure other important priorities for the Israelites.

The effect of Shabbat on us should be the same. Because of what we do and don’t do on Shabbat we reorient ourselves and our thinking.

For example, if we’ve become overly concerned about our own needs or desires, Shabbat gives us the opportunity to turn toward others. If we’ve become wrapped up in checking off all of the items on our “to-do” lists, Shabbat says, “Stop.  Reflect on what really matters.”

With that weekly correction we call “Shabbat,” perspectives can change. Hesitant hearts can become willing hearts.

Two other factors also contribute to creating a “nediv lev.” First, there’s what I call “developing a sense of right.” People may give for any number of reasons. They may be guilted into giving. Their social circles may obligate them – kind of an “I scratched your back…now you scratch mine” unspoken understanding between people. They may believe they will be rewarded if they give and, conversely, punished if they don’t do so.

And let’s not forget the concept of tzedakah – people actually may give because they believe they are obligated to do so.

But a willing heart is one who firmly believes in the cause or organization he supports. For example, in my e-blast column this week, I repeat what I have said on other occasions about the Masorti Movement in Israel.

I believe with all my heart that it can make a difference in Israel’s spiritual future and in the future relationship that Israelis and American Jews will share. And I firmly believe that my contributions to Masorti make a difference too. Oh yes, when it comes to Masorti, I give with a nediv lev. I’m sure that you contribute to some causes within a similar way.

Finally, I believe that one other factor can change a hesitant heart into a willing heart. I call it “Sandler’s Endless Tzedakah Rule.”

I have just finished getting my 2010 tax records in order for my accountant. For as many years as I can remember, our charitable contributions have increased every year even when our remuneration may not have increased. And I’ve noticed something—Susan and I have not been impoverished by our tzedakah decisions!

“Sandler’s Endless Tzedakah Rule” is really quite simple…. “You can never go poor giving tzedakah.”
No, you can never give too much tzedakah. As we have given more, I find my perspectives changing. I think less about fulfilling an obligation and more about the difference this commitment, along with others, can make. Simply put, my heart has become more willing as my commitments have grown.

How do you come to give, as Moses hopes, with a “nediv lev?” What makes your giving heartfelt? Does Shabbat provide you with perspective? Do the causes you support make you feel they can make a difference in this world? Do they lift up your spirit as you support them? Do you subscribe to “Sandler’s Endless Tzedakah Rule” and believe you just can’t give too much tzedakah?

Whether one of these reasons or another one motivates you, I hope that you are blessed with a “nediv lev,” a willing heart that sings as you give.

Shabbat Shalom.