Building Joy
The Thread Between Parashas Terumah, Parashas Shekalim, and Shabbos Rosh Chodesh Adar
This week, thousands of Chassidim poured into New Square as the Skverer Rebbe dedicated a new Sefer Torah. People traveled from around the world for this grand two-day event. A specially designed "Rebbe mobile" paraded through the streets, a symbol of the immense celebration. Millions of dollars and more than seven years of planning had gone into this moment.
What made this Hachnasas Sefer Torah so unique? Most last only a few hours and are far less extravagant. Why was this one different?
The secret lay in its letters. Each one was more than ink on parchment. Behind every letter was a commitment, a personal kabbalah. Anyone who undertook to strengthen themselves—whether by guarding against the distractions of technology, deepening their tznius and yiras shamayim, or otherwise elevating their ruchniyus—found their place within this Torah. It was more than a written Torah, it was born with an embodiment of unwavering dedication to a life of kedusha. No wonder it called for a celebration unlike any other.
In the months and weeks leading up to the event, Skverer Chassidim gathered across the globe, inspired by speakers urging them to deepen the commitments they had made seven years earlier. Each person who accepted a lifelong kabbalah received a pure silver mezuzah from the Rebbe himself—a tangible reminder of their dedication. At the same time, Skverer yeshiva bachurim, avreichim, and children collectively dedicated one million hours of Torah learning in honor of the occasion.1
It was a movement of renewal, a call to action, where participation meant transformation. And when the moment finally arrived, as thousands of Chassidim danced with unrestrained joy, it was clear: this was more than a regular Hachnasas Sefer Torah. This was the culmination of years of spiritual growth, discipline, and unwavering commitment to Hashem’s will.
This story is not just about Skver. It is the story of this Shabbos. And really, it is the story of each one of us.
This Shabbos, we will read from three sifrei Torah. Each sefer is precious and marks a separate, unique occasion. First, Parashas Terumah, then Parashas Shekalim for Shabbos Shekalim, and finally, the third Sefer Torah for Rosh Chodesh Adar.
Parashas Terumah teaches us to give to Hashem from the heart—to build a place for Him.
Parashas Shekalim reminds us of our incompleteness—we are always only "half."
Rosh Chodesh Adar calls us to increase in joy—yet what is simcha really about?
What do these three Torah readings—Terumah, Shekalim, and Rosh Chodesh Adar—teach us about true simcha? And how do they connect to the Skverer Sefer Torah?
Chazal tell us משנכנס אדר מרבין בשמחה, When Adar arrives, we increase our simcha.2
Why do we increase in simcha when Adar arrives? The Kedushas Levi explains that true joy comes from elevating our nitzotzos, the hidden sparks of holiness in the physical world.
When a person takes the mundane and material matter of this world and uses it for kedusha, transforming everyday actions into Avodas Hashem, those sparks are uplifted, forming a spiritual garment that surrounds them with holiness and fills them with deep joy.
Before Adar, we go through Shovavim, a time of constructing ourselves, of refining and uplifting these sparks. Then, in Adar, they come together, wrapping a person in holiness, bringing a joy that is deep and lasting. The very name Adar is linked to Aderet—a cloak—symbolizing this transformation, where what was once scattered becomes unified.
The Berditchever deepens this idea through Parashas Terumah. The Torah says:
ויקחו־לי תרומה מאת כל־איש אשר ידבנו לבו תקחו את־תרומתי
“And they shall take for Me a contribution, each person according to how his heart moves him.”3
He explains that serving Hashem is about more than holy thoughts, there needs to be tangible actions as well. The generous thought and the generous deed must go hand in hand. This is why the Torah hints at תרומה (offering) as התרוממות—elevation. Giving to Hashem lifts the giver. The act of giving transforms inspiration into something real, something that elevates a person to greater closeness with Hashem.
The Tiferes Shlomo of Radomsk, quoting the Baal Shem Tov, takes this one step further. He teaches that a person must refine their character to serve the Creator. True Avodas Hashem means redirecting even the Yetzer Hara’s energy—taking the passion that could lead to negativity and using it to love and fear Hashem instead.
Rav Moshe Dovid Vali ties this to the Mishkan itself. The Jewish people, after witnessing the fire of Har Sinai, feared they could never truly connect to Hashem. Therefore the Torah reassures them: רחמנא לבא בעי. God desires the heart. Experiencing Hashra’as HaShechina is not meant to be overwhelming or unattainable. On the contrary, God's presence can rest upon them gently and peacefully—so long as they open their hearts to receive it. The Mishkan was meant to show that Hashem’s presence can rest gently among them, in a place they build with love and sincerity.
The meforshim explain that each of the materials and components of the Mishkan has a parallel in the human body.
One of the most fascinating is the Tachash—often described as a mystical, multicolored animal, sometimes even referred to as a unicorn. It was created solely for the Mishkan. So what is its parallel in the human being?
Rashi, quoting the Targum, translates Techashim as sasgonah, a combination of two words: sas—meaning joy, and gonah—meaning colors. The Tachash, then, was an animal that rejoiced in its many colors.
I once heard from Rav Shmuel Brazil that the Tachash teaches us a powerful lesson: we must be happy with who we are. Of course, we must strive to do the right thing and give of ourselves for Hashem, and at the core, we must embrace our own unique essence with joy.
To make room in our hearts for the Hashra’as HaShechina, we must both give from our hearts and recognize that each of us is one of a kind—with strengths and weaknesses that are uniquely ours. No one has ever been, nor will ever be, exactly like us. This uniqueness is what defines our “colors.” Each person has their own distinct shade, their own tools, with which to fulfill their mission and build their own Mishkan for Hashem.
The skins of the Techashim were used as the covering for the Mishkan—just as every Jew must embrace their own “colors” to build a dwelling place for Hashem within themselves. True simcha comes from recognizing that our own unique design is exactly what Hashem intended.
At first glance, the half-shekel (Parshas Shekalim) seems to suggest an inherent incompleteness—we are always only half. In truth, this paradox holds the secret to real simcha: We were never meant to be complete—we were meant to be growing.
As R’ Joey Rosenfeld puts it:
Avodas Hashem is an endless process of trying and trying and trying until you realize that the trying itself is the goal—and then you try even more.
True joy is found in the endless process of elevating, one step at a time. The half-shekel teaches us that we are always evolving, always part of something greater, always contributing to a whole that is beyond ourselves. And that realization is empowering.
Recently, a beautiful phenomenon has emerged—people taking on extra mitzvos or strengthening themselves in specific areas as a merit for those who perished on October 7th and its aftermath. This outpouring of dedication is truly inspiring.
What if we took it one step higher?
Let’s not do it only for the Kedoshim—let’s do it for Hashem. Let’s elevate the nitzotzos, refine ourselves, and bring true simcha into the world. Because the greatest tribute we can offer is not just in memory, but in transforming ourselves into vessels of holiness, bringing the Hashra’as HaShechina closer into our lives and into this world.
The Skverer Sefer Torah was more than an event—it was a Torah built from the commitments of its people.
The Mishkan was constructed not just with gold and silver, but with heart and elevation.
The Tachash teaches that true joy comes from embracing our unique role in Hashem’s world.
The half-shekel reminds us that we are always in motion, always becoming.
The joy of Adar is not about arriving. It is about building. About transforming. About dancing through the journey itself. True joy is found not in perfection, but in becoming.
Previous posts on Parashas Terumah:
The History of the Keruvim
In Parashas Terumah, the Torah introduces the concept of building a Mishkan, a home for the Shechinah. The Parashah covers the construction of the Mishkan and its vessels. One key item is the Aron, which has a special cover called the Kapores. On top of the Kapores are the Keruvim.
Living with Intention
In Parashas Terumah, we begin to learn about the construction of the Mishkan and all its intricate details. While learning the parashah, I could not help but wonder - why Hashem provided such specific instructions instead of allowing us to be creative and innovative within a given framework?
Taanis 29a
Shemos 25:2
Love it