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.[1] 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[2] 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.[3]

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.

[1] Bereishit 3:5.

[2] Rashi, Bereishit 3:12.

[3] Rashi, Dvarim 26:3.

For a more in-depth analysis see:

http://arikahn.blogspot.co.il/2015/08/essays-and-lectures-parashat-ki-tavo.html

Rabbi Ari Kahn’s new book on the parashah, A River Flowed From Eden, is now available.