‘Absorbing the Risk’ Vayakhel – Pekudei – HaChodesh 5786 |
The story of the construction of the Tabernacle (Mishkan) is one of the most remarkable moments in the Torah. A nation that only recently left slavery is tasked to build a sanctuary. The materials required are vast [Shemot 35:5-9]: Gold, silver, copper, fabrics, wood, spices, oil, and precious stones. And yet there is no taxation system, no government budget, and no enforcement mechanism. The entire project depends entirely on voluntary generosity. The response of the Jewish People is extraordinary. Contributions begin flowing in from every direction. Men and women bring their jewellery, their fabrics, their metals, and their textiles. The momentum grows until eventually something astonishing happens.
The artisans approach Moshe with an urgent message [Shemot 36:5]: “The people are bringing much more than enough for the labour of the work that G-d commanded to be done.” It is a fundraiser’s dream scenario: The response is overwhelming – too overwhelming – and so Moshe shuts down the fund drive [Shemot 36:6-7]: “Moshe said ‘Let neither man nor woman make any more work for the offering of the Mishkan’, And the people were restrained from bringing. For the material they had was sufficient for all the work to do it, and more than enough.” Imagine that moment. A massive national project halted because the people have already given far beyond what is required. But inside this story lies a subtle critique directed at the leadership.
Earlier, the Torah tells us that the tribal leaders (Nesi’im) brought the precious stones used for the priestly garments [Shemot 35:27]: “The leaders brought the onyx stones and the stones for setting, for the ephod and for the breastplate.” Rashi[1] notices something unusual in the spelling of the word describing the leaders. One letter – the letter yod – is missing[2]. The defective spelling hints that something about their behaviour was not ideal.
What exactly did they do wrong? Rashi, quoting our Sages in the Midrash, explains that the leaders initially delayed their contribution. Their reasoning seemed perfectly sensible. They said that the people should bring whatever they wanted to bring. If anything remained missing, then they would supply it[3]. At first glance that sounds like responsible leadership. The leaders were effectively guaranteeing the success of the project. If the people contributed generously, the Mishkan would be built. If the people failed to contribute enough, the leaders would step in and close the gap. In modern economic language, we might say that the leaders were absorbing the risk. They were willing to bear the financial uncertainty of the entire project. If the contributions fell short, the leaders would personally ensure that the Mishkan could still be completed.
That sounds noble. But it also changes the incentive structure of the entire system. Imagine a community fundraising campaign. Someone stands up and declares that if the community fails to reach its fundraising target, he personally guarantees that he will provide whatever is missing. At first. that sounds inspiring. But psychologically it changes the situation for everyone else. If people know that the project will succeed regardless of their personal contribution, the urgency to give can diminish. The pressure disappears. The project will be completed anyway.
Economists have a term for this phenomenon. “Moral hazard” occurs when a person is protected from the negative consequences of his actions, so he behaves with less caution or effort. When someone else carries the downside, participants may feel less compelled to act. When one party absorbs all of the risk, others sometimes reduce their effort. The leaders thought they were being responsible by absorbing the risk. But in economic terms they were creating a moral hazard.
Momentum is a concept that rocket scientists understand very well. When a system begins moving in a particular direction, that motion can reinforce itself. Movement generates more movement. Social systems behave in similar ways. When people see others stepping forward, participation spreads. Generosity spreads. Courage spreads. But the first step matters enormously. If the leaders had stepped forward immediately with their most valuable contributions, the signal would have been powerful and unmistakable: The leadership is fully committed. The project matters. Everyone should participate.
Instead, the leaders waited to see what would happen. From a managerial perspective that approach may sound prudent. They structured a contingency plan. If the public failed to contribute enough, the leaders would guarantee the outcome. But leadership is not only management. Leadership is also symbolism. The difference between managing a project and leading a nation lies in the signals that leaders send through their actions. By waiting, the leaders unintentionally sent a signal that the project would be completed regardless of what others did. They were absorbing the risk but they were not igniting the momentum.
Here is the fascinating twist in the story: The people responded with such overwhelming generosity that the theoretical incentive problem never occurred. The contributions poured in so rapidly that the artisans eventually had to tell Moshe to stop the donations. The leaders ended up contributing only the precious stones that had not already been brought by the public. The generosity of the people overwhelmed the cautious strategy of the leadership. The Torah is teaching a lesson. The leaders were not criticized because they lacked generosity. They were criticized because they misunderstood the leadership moment. The moment required visible commitment at the front, not financial guarantees at the back.
There is a striking contrast later in the Torah narrative. When the Mishkan is finally dedicated, the leaders bring offerings again. This time they do not hesitate. Each leader brings an identical offering. Each one acts publicly and immediately. It is almost as if they learned their lesson. Leadership must lead from the front.
There is a deeper symbolism in what the leaders ultimately contributed. The precious stones they brought were placed on the shoulders of the High Priest (Kohen Gadol), with the names of the twelve tribes engraved upon them. The message could not be more clear: Leadership means carrying the people. A leader does not stand apart waiting to see whether the nation will succeed. A leader steps forward and carries the nation along. When leaders visibly shoulder the burden, the people will more often than not respond with fervour. The Mishkan in the desert was not built because its completion was guaranteed. It was built because a nation became inspired, despite their leaders.
The leaders thought the project needed someone to absorb the risk. The people showed that what it really needed was momentum. And once that momentum was created, it became unstoppable. The contributions continued to roll in until there was nowhere to store them. The lesson remains timeless: If you want people to act, do not wait to see what they will do. You must step forward first.
Do not wait to absorb the risk – take the lead and create the momentum.
Ari Sacher, Moreshet, 5786
Please daven for a Refu’a Shelema for Rachel bat Malka, Iris bat Chana, Shlomo ben Esther, Sheindel Devora bat Rina, Esther Sharon bat Chana Raizel, Meir ben Drora, Golan ben Marcelle and Hodayah Emunah bat Shoshana Rachel.
[1] Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki, known by his acronym “Rashi,” was the most eminent of the medieval commentators. He lived in northern France in the 11th century.
[2] Actually, two yod’s are missing.
[3] Why only the leaders would have access to the missing materiel – precious stones and the like – is a topic for another shiur.