"Tell the Israelites to take Me an offering; from every person whose heart is inspired you shall take My offering." (Ex. 25:2)
We like to think that the songs and praise we offer to the blessed Creator magnify and make Him even greater, as they would an earthly king. But this is not the case. The Midrash says that we embellish the praises of a king of flesh and blood beyond what he deserves, but the blessed Holy One is extolled and yet remains infinitely more (Tanhuma Shemot 2). Regarding this the Talmud teaches: the best thing of all is silence. Like an invaluable pearl, anyone who begins to speak its praise diminishes it (y. Berkahot 9:1).
All the prayers we offer God are a diminution indeed. We try to squeeze the indescribably great divine illumination and life-force into letters. In the words of the Tikkuney Zohar, no thought can grasp You at all. We have spoken of this struggle many times.
Yet even so our efforts are quite dear to God and much beloved. By way of a parable: It sometimes happens that when a father and child are playing, the child grabs hold of father's beard, hair, or some other part of his head. The child pulls it down to his little face in order to play with him. This gives the father great pleasure, enjoying it even though it might seem annoying and an affront to his dignity. Were anyone else to do this, it would hurt him. But since the parent loves his child, and sees that the child loves him very much and longs for him as well, it is clear that the child does this out of love. The lesson is clear: even though our words and letters diminish the divine brilliance, [God cherishes them as an expression of our love]...
This is the meaning of take Me an offering [terumah]. "Even though [in prayer] you are bringing Me down to you, I consider this an act of great uplifting (haramah). Should you ask why, Scripture answers: from every person whose heart is inspired. I see their inspiration, great longing and their absolute dedication, and therefore you shall take My offering."...
We like to think that the songs and praise we offer to the blessed Creator magnify and make Him even greater, as they would an earthly king. But this is not the case. The Midrash says that we embellish the praises of a king of flesh and blood beyond what he deserves, but the blessed Holy One is extolled and yet remains infinitely more (Tanhuma Shemot 2). Regarding this the Talmud teaches: the best thing of all is silence. Like an invaluable pearl, anyone who begins to speak its praise diminishes it (y. Berkahot 9:1).
All the prayers we offer God are a diminution indeed. We try to squeeze the indescribably great divine illumination and life-force into letters. In the words of the Tikkuney Zohar, no thought can grasp You at all. We have spoken of this struggle many times.
Yet even so our efforts are quite dear to God and much beloved. By way of a parable: It sometimes happens that when a father and child are playing, the child grabs hold of father's beard, hair, or some other part of his head. The child pulls it down to his little face in order to play with him. This gives the father great pleasure, enjoying it even though it might seem annoying and an affront to his dignity. Were anyone else to do this, it would hurt him. But since the parent loves his child, and sees that the child loves him very much and longs for him as well, it is clear that the child does this out of love. The lesson is clear: even though our words and letters diminish the divine brilliance, [God cherishes them as an expression of our love]...
This is the meaning of take Me an offering [terumah]. "Even though [in prayer] you are bringing Me down to you, I consider this an act of great uplifting (haramah). Should you ask why, Scripture answers: from every person whose heart is inspired. I see their inspiration, great longing and their absolute dedication, and therefore you shall take My offering."...
This moving metaphor of father and child sounds so much like ones used by the Maggid himself. In our songs of praise we cannot hope to fully capture the majesty of the Divine, but the love and desire that infuse prayers can express an affection for our adoring Parent that transcends words.
There is something of this in the biblical story as well. The momentous revelation at Sinai was beyond all words and description. One of our first attempts to deal with that experience was the Golden Calf, a misguided search to concretize the ineffable. In response, God gave us the gift of the mishkan. The Tabernacle, with all of its sacrifices and services, is a sanctioned expression of our unending and fully requited love for God. Though our offerings are by definition inadequate, they are beloved indeed.
There is something of this in the biblical story as well. The momentous revelation at Sinai was beyond all words and description. One of our first attempts to deal with that experience was the Golden Calf, a misguided search to concretize the ineffable. In response, God gave us the gift of the mishkan. The Tabernacle, with all of its sacrifices and services, is a sanctioned expression of our unending and fully requited love for God. Though our offerings are by definition inadequate, they are beloved indeed.