When you wake up in the morning, how do you start your day? Many people immediately take out their phones, look at their messages, and are bombarded by a rush of incoming data. But in doing so, we begin our day in a reactive state, allowing external stimuli to become the foundation of our day. With that starting point, it is all too easy for the entire day to become one long reactive experience.
Highly successful people do not immediately look at their phones upon waking. Rather, they engage in mindful, productive tasks, generating proactive momentum for their morning. This allows them to choose what to think about and what to focus on, enabling them to accomplish their goals throughout the day. Instead of allowing external stimuli to guide their waking thoughts, they replace it with mindful, guided, and goal-oriented thinking. Davening in the morning accomplishes this exact objective, providing us with a structured way to begin our day with mindfulness and directed thought.
The Nesiim
During the chanukas haMishkan, the inauguration of the Tabernacle, the Nesiim (princes) of each Shevet contributed spectacular gifts toward the Mishkan. Chazal explain that these donations were intended as a tikkun (rectification) for their previous sin. Earlier in the Torah, the Nesiim are criticized for their inappropriate approach regarding their donations toward the building of the Mishkan. They delayed in donating gifts, and in the interim, the Jewish people donated everything needed—leaving the Nesiim with nothing to give. (However, there was still one gift left for the Nesiim to give: the Avnei Milu’im, the twelve beautiful stones placed within the Choshen – the breastplate worn by the Kohen Gadol.)
However, it is important to note that their intentions were pure. They intended to wait and see what was still needed in the Mishkan after the rest of Klal Yisrael had finished donating, and they would then donate whatever was still needed, filling in the rest. The Nesiim assumed that if everybody donated simultaneously, there would be many overlapping gifts, while other essential things might be left out completely. They wanted to fill in the gaps, ensuring that the donation process was completed properly.
However, when the giving stopped and the dust settled, there was nothing left to give. Klal Yisrael had surpassed all expectations, donating every single required item and even exceeding the required quotas. The Nesiim, due to their delay, lost out on their chance to contribute toward the Mishkan.
The Nesiim are criticized for their lack of alacrity in donating, and it is apparent that they realized their mistake, as they tried to rectify it by contributing elaborate gifts during the chanukas haMishkan. But we must ask: What did they do that was so improper? After all, their calculation seems sound, even ideal. Why donate something that has already been given? Isn’t it worthwhile to ensure that your gift will be useful? Why then do we view their actions—or lack thereof—in such a negative light? Furthermore, how do their gifts in Parashas Naso rectify their mistake? To answer this, we must first understand the nature and meaning of chesed, loosely translated as kindness and giving.
Chesed
The spiritual concept of chesed is the ability to expand beyond one’s limited self and contribute toward others. (Chesed is expansion and outflow. Gevurah, or din, is restriction, limitation, and boundaries. Tiferes is the perfect harmony and balance of these two attributes.) As the pasuk in Tehillim says, “Olam chesed yibaneh — The world was built through chesed.” Hashem created this world as an act of expansion and pure kindness, with the goal of giving to each and every one of us. (Not only was the original act of creation one of kindness, but the world is continuously sustained by Hashem’s active will—an act of continuous giving.) Thus, when we give to others, we emulate Hashem. (For more on the mitzvah to emulate Hashem, see Shabbos 133b and Shemos 15:2: “Mah Hu rachum af atah rachum — Just as Hashem is merciful, so should you be merciful.” See also Sotah 14a.)
Levels of Chesed
Within the basic character trait of chesed, there are varying levels and degrees. For example, if a person is in financial need, there are several ways to help. The most obvious form is giving money—but this is far from ideal. Short-term monetary gifts don’t usually solve long-term struggles with poverty; the person will remain dependent. Dependency is shameful, and we do not want recipients of charity to feel incapable. A better option is to extend a loan, enabling a person to retain independence and dignity. However, the greatest level of chesed is helping someone get a job or develop a means of supporting themselves, providing both sustenance and genuine independence. As the saying goes, “Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.”
This principle is at the root of a phrase we read every day in Shemoneh Esreh. In the first berachah, we describe Hashem as “gomel chasadim — the One Who bestows kindness.” But the Hebrew word gomel literally means to wean, as when a mother stops breastfeeding her child. This seems the antithesis of chesed—cutting someone off. But there is an intrinsic connection: the greatest chesed is to give someone independence, to wean them off reliance and dependency. This is the chesed Hashem does for us: He gives us the ability to choose, and in doing so, to earn our reward. We aren’t given it for free—we earn it through our choices, moral victories, and constant struggle to grow.
This is often the greatest challenge for a parent: letting go, letting a child blossom. Only with independence can children become themselves. The greatest teachers don’t create dependent students—they create independent thinkers who grow and flourish long after leaving the classroom. This is the deeper meaning behind the unusual language of the Mishnah in Avos, which instructs: “Haamidu talmidim harbeh,” usually understood as “teach many students.” But it literally means “stand up” many students. In other words, a great teacher helps students develop their own legs to stand on.
In our next article, we’ll delve deeper into this fascinating topic of chesed and clarify the underlying mistake the Nesiim made.
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: ShmuelReichman.com.
