It was 1976 and I’d been alienated from Temple life for 20 years. Not that my parents didn’t try: they insisted my family and I come with them every year to High Holidays, and then lovingly guilt-tripped me into joining a synagogue “for the sake of the children.”

That Rosh Hashanah, Rabbi Maurice Davis gave a sermon that reached deep into my soul (though at the time I didn’t know I had one). He named his talk “No Deposit, No Return,” probably motivated by what then was the new practice of charging an extra nickel for each bottle of soda, to encourage recycling.  Return the bottle, get the nickel back.

Rabbi Davis’ point was that Judaism is much like that. If we don’t give to the Temple services and community, then we won’t feel connected. We won’t have the unique sense of gratification that comes from giving. We won’t feel the kedushah (holiness) that comes with generosity. Of course, a deposit on a bottle is rather straightforward. For a deposit to a holy cause to have deep effect, the heart must be in it.

How right Rabbi Davis was. When I opened my heart to deep relationship with God and my Temple, my joy increased. The Torah portion, Terumah, makes the same point about opening hearts in giving to spiritual community:

God spoke to Moses, saying: Tell the Israelites to bring Me gifts: you will accept gifts for Me from every person whose heart so moves him. These are the gifts that you will accept from them: gold, silver and copper; blue, purple and crimson yarns, fine linen, goats' hair; tanned ram skins, dolphin skins, and acacia wood; oil for lighting, spices for the anointing oil and for the aromatic incense; lapis lazuli and other stones for setting on the [priests' shoulder plate] and breastpiece. Let them make Me a sanctuary that I may dwell among them (Ex. 25:1-8).

God tells Moses to tell every Israelite whose heart was so moved to bring terumah (holy gifts) to build the first Sanctuary. The directives are both specific and varied. Some bring kesef (silver), zahav (gold) or nechoshet (brass); others bring skins or wood. Some bring stones for the High Priest to wear; others offer talent as artisan, weaver or builder. By these heartfelt offerings, the people together build a Sanctuary for God, and God can "dwell among them." This is the source and meaning of our liturgy's song, "Sanctuary": V'asu li mikdash v'shochanti b'tocham / "Make Me a Sanctuary that I may dwell among them" (Ex. 25:8).

The word terumah (holy gifts) comes from the Hebrew root ram (lift up). When we give, we lift up ourselves and the cause that receives. Our sages deemed it vital for all to give -- both rich and poor -- because giving lifts ordinary lives and makes them extraordinary. When we give from our hearts, we fill with satisfaction and worthiness. When we give, we build a Sanctuary for God. By our giving, God dwells among us.