Rabbi Ari Kahn
Parashat Ki Tavo 5775
Gratitude
The life that awaits the Children of Israel in the Promised
Land will hold many challenges alongside its rewards, and in Parashat Ki Tavo
Moshe turns the spotlight on both sides of this coin.
The Land of Israel is unlike any other place in the world. It
is a land imbued with a spiritual personality, a delicate constitution that
will not tolerate sin. On the other hand, avoiding sin is not enough. Living in
Israel will entail additional obligations, and in this parashah Moshe describes
one of these additional mitzvot: Bikurim.
The mitzvah of Bikurim
will be fulfilled long after his own passing, after the conquest of the
Land and the division of the tribal portions, after homes are built, after fields
and orchards and vineyards are planted and the first harvest is gathered. This,
Moshe explains, will not be ordinary produce; this is holy fruit of the Holy Land,
and it will require special treatment: The very first fruit, the produce that
has been so anxiously awaited, is to be placed in a basket and carried to
Jerusalem. With this precious harvest in hand, the farmer is commanded to
recite a specific text, recounting a brief history of the Jewish People. The
ritual is designed to place the celebration of the harvest into historical as
well as spiritual context, culminating in the harvest that symbolizes our
status as a free and holy nation.
As we read Moshe’s description of Bikurim,
the ritual of the First Fruits, we might take a moment to consider the
contrast with the other “first
fruits”
mentioned in the Torah – the
very first fruits, in the Garden of Eden. The reality in which Adam and Eve
existed was unique: Their proximity to God Himself, the immediacy of their
connection to His Presence, and the symbiosis of that spirituality with the
well-being of the Garden and its holy fruits are echoed in the reality into
which the Israelites would enter as they crossed the Jordan. However, the
earlier experience, the experiment of entrusting man with the holy fruits in
Eden, was a failure, ending in disaster and exile. Careful consideration of the
Bikurim ceremony gives us the sense
that the mitzvah we are commanded to perform with the first fruits is in some way
a “tikun,” a type of spiritual healing for the misappropriation of
those very first fruits of the Garden: First an foremost, Adam and Eve had allowed
themselves to be convinced by the Serpent that eating the forbidden fruit would
somehow transform them into gods.
The Bikurim ritual is a direct and
unmistakable counter to that sort of self-centered delusion. Jewish farmers
take their most precious harvest in hand, and remind themselves how it came to
be. Rather than self-congratulation for their resourcefulness and success, they
consciously, even demonstrably, thank God for this produce.
In two separate comments, Rashi elucidates a second element
of the sin in the Garden of Eden.
God called to the man, and He said, 'Where are you [trying
to hide]?''I heard Your voice in the garden,' [Adam] replied, 'and I was afraid
because I was naked, so I hid.' [God] asked, 'Who told you that you are naked?
Did you eat from the tree which I commanded you not to eat?' The man replied,
'The woman that you gave to be with me - she gave me what I ate from the tree.'
(Bereishit 3:9-12)
The very fact that God engaged man in conversation
indicates that at this point all was not lost; there may yet have been words or
gestures of repentance or conciliation. But instead of expressing remorse, Adam
points an accusative finger at his wife, the soul mate provided by God.
Essentially, Adam blames everyone but himself for his moral lapse. Instead of
saying “thank
you” for
being introduced to the woman of his dreams, Adam attempts to shift all the
blame to her. Rashi
labels this behavior “a lack
of gratitude,” a lack
of appreciation for what God has provided. In a very real sense, this lack of
gratitude is “original
sin.” God
created man with limitations and foibles; that was always a part of the design.
We might say that the transgression of eating from the forbidden fruit was not
nearly as disappointing as what ensued: The true test of man is not in whether
or not he will fail; inevitably, almost unavoidably, he will. The greater test
lies not only in taking responsibility for his actions – and his failures - but in his
ability to recognize, appreciate and give thanks for the gifts that God bestows
upon him.
Commenting on the mitzvah of Bikurim and on the verses that make up the text of its ritual,
Rashi illustrates how the historical and theological context it creates is
designed to teach us to be grateful and at the same time allow us an
opportunity to express that gratitude.
Appreciation for what God does for us is the foundation of
religious life. Appreciation for what other human beings do for us is the
foundation of decency and, by extension, a decent society. The greatest enemy
of this sort of decency is the overdeveloped sense of entitlement from which
modern man too often suffers. It blinds us to the wonderful gifts God gives us,
deludes us into thinking that this is God’s responsibility, His “job description.” Similarly, we are often guilty of belittling or taking for
granted what other people do for us, even when, and especially when, it is in their
“job description.” We expect service because we “deserve” it, but are we appreciative when we get it? Do we express
that appreciation? Do we allow the other person to feel our appreciation?
The experience in the Garden of Eden was a microcosm of life
in the Land of Israel: Misbehavior results in expulsion, exile. The fruit of
the Garden, like the fruit of the Land, belongs to God. We are given sustenance
as a gift from His hand. The farmers who toil in the Land of Israel are allowed
to partner with Him in this holy endeavor, but they must never forget the true
source of our sustenance. The Bikurim ritual,
and the joyous way in which it is performed, allow us to thank God – and all the angels among us whom he
sends to protect and provide for us each and every day – for our bountiful, miraculous
sustenance.
For
a more in-depth analysis see:
Rabbi Ari Kahn’s new book on the parashah, A River Flowed From Eden, is now available.
