He was an unlettered Jew who lived very simply and yet was unusually generous towards the new yeshiva in Volozhin. Apparently this intrigued Rav Chaim Volozhiner, as did the time when he suddenly dropped all of his openhanded support and refused to give anything more to the yeshiva's emissary.
It would be hard to imagine the feelings of the unsuspecting donor when a concerned Rav Chaim, giant of Torah Jewry, founding rosh yeshiva of Volozhin, came to visit his home, one that was lacking any signs of comfort and any signs of Torah study in almost equal measure. Aware of the rosh yeshiva's purpose, the donor readily explained how happy he was to support Volozhin year in and year out, all the while that the yeshiva sent someone modestly dressed and travelling in similar fashion. However the recent fundraising trip brought an individual excessively outfitted, joined by an aide and driven by several well kept horses. Turning to the rosh yeshiva he concluded that to feed the young aspiring scholars gives him great happiness but why should he feed the well kept horses?
Rav Chaim confirmed that the fundraiser had indeed changed strategies and did so after conferring with the rosh yeshiva and receiving his approbation. Furthermore, the changed approach had in fact been successful. No doubt Rav Chaim regretfully explained how human nature dictates such fundraising tactics, much as many a rov reluctantly dropped the whitefish and scrambled eggs for a black tie event. The rosh yeshiva reassured this honest Jew that any money that he would give to Volozhin would indeed pay for the students' room and board and never for horse feed.
Turning to his host, Rav Chaim asked for a gemara or a mishna, but neither were to be found in the house. Instead, Rav Chaim opened a chumash to our parsha, parshas Vayakel. Together they read the pesukim from this week's parsha (35:30-35) that describe Betzalel's blessings of "divine inspiration, wisdom and insight of all crafts and the ability to consider plans and craft gold, silver and copper." Then Rav Chaim questioned the sense in praising Betzalel's talents as a goldsmith and a silversmith after we have been told that he was not unlike a prophet in the depth and profundity of his insight. Is it not similar to describing a great gaon, and then adding and that he is also a great tailor?
Surely every Jew would want their gold to ideally be used for the aron and certainly for nothing less than the golden mizbeach. Who would give the gold for the bars that held the beams together on the outer periphery of the mishkan? Betzalel, however, was able to divine the thoughts of the donors and "consider their plans". As such, those who donated gold with the purest intentions had their gold included in the aron holding the Asseres Hadibros. On the other hand, those who gave to promote themselves or out a feeling of obligation alone had their gold allocated intuitively by Betzalel to very peripheral usages. It is for this insight into the thoughts of donors, and the corresponding allocation of their gold and silver to various keilim, that was being praised when describing his smith abilities.
Now, Rav Chaim said quite confidently, that the donations of his host were given with such sublime sincerity that they would, without doubt, be allocated for the driven students of Volozhin who toiled day and night in the study of torah. Other donors, who were less sincere in their generosity, would cover the less glamorous overheads, albeit absolutely necessary and highly productive in maintaining the yeshiva.
It seems to me that this vignette sheds light on a strange phrase in our parsha. Never to be repeated in the annals of Jewish fundraising, Hashem himself ordered to stop accepting donations once they had enough. The Torah says that they had "enough and more". Though this may be the source of the phrase "more than enough" and therefore rarely draws our attention, it is clumsy for a Biblical phrase, where simply saying that they had more than they needed would have sufficed.
Perhaps the Torah is pointing out there were Jews who thought long and hard about the Mishkan and which parts resonated with them and their avodas Hashem. Some treasured the aron because their lives revolved around the bais hamedrash; others loved the silent moments of prayer more than anything and to them the mizbeach was key; still others who had dedicated countless hours into the local yeshiva wanted to be part of the keruvim; several who protected the poor and were ever concerned about their friend's parnassa wanted to participate in the shulchan; those who worked hard for Jewish unity took great pride in the ketores which brings all sorts of spices to work together. Everyone who thought about their own particular avodas Hashem could enhance it through their involvement around the mishkan.
Yet there are always people who do not think about their unique contribution to our people and who do not aspire to maximize their G-d given blessings in His service. They have a place in the mishkan as we all do. But their place will always be the "hoser," the unidentified "extra", so necessary but so generic. With only some more thought the "hoser" could find a niche in our Torah that would excite them and help them grow in a meaningful manner, but instead their contribution was found lacking.
Long before Rav Chaim Volozhiner, the medrash describes the efforts of the women who brought their copper mirrors to be used creating the kiyor. Apparently they understood that the kiyor would hold the water that would be used to confirm the fidelity of a Jewish home and ultimately contribute to its harmony. These women understood well their blessings, their strengths, and their contributions. In doing so they modeled for us how we can all seek to find greater meaning in, and achieve greater mastery of, Hashem's Torah.