Truma: Charity Done Right

This morning I did a mitzvah of which I was especially proud. This past week I hadn't had a chance to write up a dvar Torah on the portion of Truma, and what happened two mornings ago taught me a lesson about truma, contributions given from the generosity of the heart.

Walking on Betzalel Street's pedestrian mall, I came across a lady begging for charity. She is a fixture of the local Nahlaot community, always begging but in a way that comes across as rather difficult for her, expressing what seems to me deep-seeded remorse. She always dresses up in rather nice closing, and is very much kempt. She is on the rather heavy side and seems to have a bit of a facial deformity, half of her lip always protruding out past the other half of her lip. She wears a head covering, and her unchanging entreaty for charity could translate into the Hebrew as, "Maybe, do you have a little charity, maybe?"

Just yesterday, at her set place on a black marble slab next to three plush outdoor cafes, I heard her entreat one passerby after the next- perhaps ten all together-with nobody giving her even but the most meager of alms. I had stopped to tie my shoes nearby and heard her make her querulous plea repeatedly.

Remembering a song that I had heard as a child in elementary school from my music teacher named something Braverman, whose first name I cannot remember- a song about a man who stopped to give his gloves to a lonesome beggar in the heart of winter-I entered one of the cafes and bought the lady a cup of cappuccino and two cookies.

When I brought her the cookies, she, like a little child seemed so pleased. I handed her the stirrer and it fell from her hand. Though for myself I would have wiped it off and used it, I asked her, "Do you want me to get you a new one?" to which she responded, "Yes." I brought her a new one, giving it to her, then wishing her a beautiful day. I felt that I had made her day.

I'm sure like so many of us I have passed by hundreds if not thousands of beggars to whom I did not give money. This past week's Torah portion, Truma, speaks of each person bringing "what his heart offers." I had that honor today, helping bring Hashem's presence to a fellow human. As the words of the verse state, "And you will make for me a tabernacle and I will rest among you."  

Today I passed by her again, twice in fact, on my way to synagogue and then on the walk back home.  Both times she asked me for tzedaka to which I responded that I was sorry but did not have any. On the second occasion she had asked me for charity, not wanting her to feel that I was ignoring her entreaty, I added, "I bought you a cappuccino yesterday. How was it?" to which she replied with a smile that said more that she wanted to be acknowledged or noticed more than anything else, "It was very good." My heart's inspiration had led me to give her charity.