But this is precisely where HaKadosh Baruch Hu put down another stone on Klal Yisrael’s path to redemption. The ambitious Mishkan project was presented to them as a challenge. Moshe told them what Hashem expected of them and what needed to be done, and then… he waited for their response, which could have gone one of two ways. They might have said, “Moshe Rabbeinu, you know we can’t do these tasks. We’d love to, but we’ve spent our lives up until now as slaves doing rough, heavy work, and we have none of the skills needed for all this fine craftsmanship. Wooden poles overlaid with copper? Golden keruvim? A huge candelabra hammered out of one piece of metal, with cups shaped like almond blossoms? The paroches sounds amazing, but we wouldn’t know how to begin to make it. Maybe if you give us a few years to practice, then we might be up to the task, but obviously we can’t just get up and start now.”

If Bnei Yisrael had given this answer, it would be hard to fault them. But then they wouldn’t have become Am Yisrael, with everything that the term implies. Their response would have showed that in their hearts, they were still slaves, even though at least two years had passed since they were physically freed. They would have declared themselves to be a small generation, lacking vision and desire to soar to the heights, to seize this incredible opportunity when it was offered to them.

But something else took place instead. The mandate to build the Mishkan awakened dormant powers within them of which they hadn’t even been aware. They heard and heeded ratzon Hashem, and they comprehended that a huge challenge had been placed before them — to build a dwelling for Hashem, parallel to the structure of Creation itself and to the human soul. The opportunity ignited their imagination. If HaKadosh Baruch Hu said they should, they were going to do it. How? With what tools? With what professional training? These were no longer questions; the people had shaken off the dust of their enslavement, and they believed in themselves, in their ability to do what Hashem asked of them. And in a way wondrous to behold, that overwhelming desire engendered the talent and skill to perform the necessary tasks.

This amazing revelation is encapsulated in the pasuk, “They came, every man whose heart uplifted him” (Shemos 35:21). Volunteers stepped forward. Who were they? Anyone who felt such a strong desire to rise to the challenge that he was impelled to come forward and offer his services. Every fiber of these individuals’ beings was filled with the desire to take part in the holy task, so powerfully, says the Ramban, that “He found that he naturally knew how to do it, and his heart rose high in the ways of Hashem, moving him to come before Moshe and say, ‘I will do whatever my master says.’ ”

At that moment, each of them was transformed. Their hearts were opened to new expanses. Their view of themselves changed. Suddenly they were gifted with amazing skills in metalcraft, spinning, weaving, or carving, and they began to build a dwelling for the Shechinah.

This was not the first time the Jewish People were required to take the initiative by displaying their willingness to rise to tasks that would seem at first glance to be beyond their ability. Fifty days after their dramatic exodus from Egypt, Hashem offered them a mission that would change the course of history and set them apart as a nation unlike any other. Rav Yerucham Levovitz of Mir writes:

Moshe comes in the name of Hashem and offers them an enormous and very complex job — to be Hashem’s Chosen People, a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. The job of ul’davkah Bo, of cleaving to Hashem, delighting in Him and basking in the glow of His Shechinah. A job they had never seen or had any experience of. Yet, they didn’t hesitate or demur. Right away, they answered, ‘All that Hashem said, we will do!’ Let us contemplate the expansion of the heart required for such an undertaking!

Am Yisrael learned an important lesson that day. They learned to look beyond the deceptive superficial image of reality, not to judge their spiritual powers, their true potential, by their everyday performance. In order to actualize what the Torah intended for them, they had to recognize that they had endless stores of untapped ability and an obligation to activate these powers. They learned that great deeds — the kind that leave an everlasting imprint on humanity — cannot come from a life lived on autopilot. Only fervent dedication to an ideal can show a person who he really is and what he is capable of.

This is why no outstanding achievement, in any field of endeavor, is the product of an easy, untroubled existence. Breakthroughs in scientific knowledge, great works of art, discoveries of new continents, and even great conquests in the business world, are achieved by people of vision who don’t allow the comfort of habit and routine to hold them back or limit them. A prominent mussar personality once observed that Switzerland, a beautiful, war-free, and prosperous nation, has scarcely given rise to a genius in any field, although one might think it would be the ideal environment for undisturbed creative thinking. Why not? Because real achievement comes from “expansion of the heart” — venturing out of one’s comfort zone, even when conditions are difficult, obstacles come up, and the world doesn’t even seem ready for the innovation. Is there any gadol b’Yisrael who acquired his Torah without years of mesirus nefesh, learning day and night in the face of adversity?

As Bnei Yisrael followed their path through the Wilderness, no spiritual gain was served to them on a silver platter. HaKadosh Baruch Hu demanded that they dedicate themselves to the adventure, that they be an Am Segulah. He didn’t turn them into one miraculously, but instead commanded them to build a Mishkan and then stood back, as it were, while they unlocked their hidden potential on their own initiative. And so they became the Am HaNetzach — the Eternal People, the Nation of Triumph. A people who ceased to live for mere survival and instead turned their lives into a means toward a higher goal, to be the torchbearer for all nations. And as long as we remain faithful to that goal, nothing can derail us.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 751)