The Torah often speaks in categories — the priests, the Levites, the heads of tribes. But Targum Pseudo-Jonathan on Exodus 35:29 zooms out to the widest possible frame: Every man, a son of Israel, and (every) woman, a daughter of Israel, who was moved in heart, brought for all the work which the Lord by Mosheh had commanded.
The Targum's formulation — a son of Israel… a daughter of Israel — is deliberate. It is not saying "the men and the women gave" as a descriptive fact. It is giving them a title. Each donor, in the act of giving, became a son of Israel or a daughter of Israel, a person who had stepped fully into their inheritance by participating in the building of God's house.
This reframes the offering as an identity-forming act. The Tabernacle was not funded by the wealthy alone, or by a tax, or by a campaign led by the elders. It was funded by everyone whose heart was moved — and the moment their heart moved them, they earned the name.
The rabbis of Midrash Tanchuma noted that this was the first mass voluntary contribution in Jewish history. It would be echoed centuries later when David and Solomon collected donations for the First Temple (1 Chronicles 29:6-9), but the wilderness model came first. A portable sanctuary built by the willingness of a freshly-liberated people.
The Targum's closing phrase — the votive gift — marks the character of these offerings. They were nedavot, vows freely made, not taxes reluctantly paid. Judaism's architecture of holiness was, from its first stone, a volunteer project.
The takeaway: you become who you are by what you choose to give. The Israelites were not called sons and daughters of the covenant by birth alone. The gift is what named them.