Field Dispatch
Parsha Ki Tavo – Daily Prayer, Torah, Jewish Teachings, And A Story That Started 4,000 Years Ago
Field Notes
A Jewish farmer stands in the Beit HaMikdash holding a basket of fruit. But the story he tells doesn't begin with his field. It doesn't begin with the harvest. It doesn't even begin with him. It begins thousands of years earlier.
In this Torah study we ask, why does a Jewish farmer, standing in the Beit HaMikdash with the first fruits of his own hard work, tell a story that began thousands of years before he was born? What does it tell us about Jewish faith? What is the Torah wisdom?
Bikkurim appears to be a simple mitzvah of gratitude. But hidden within its few passukim is an extraordinary idea about Jewish history, Jewish values, Jewish philosophy, Judaism, human achievement and the way we understand our own lives.
This week’s parsha contains one of the Torah’s most remarkable ideas about gratitude, success and the story we tell ourselves about how we got here.
A woman locks her keys inside her car. She's late for an appointment starting to worry. She praised Hashem for assistance. Just then a man walking by sees the situation and gets her door opened in a matter of seconds. Thank you, Hashem, she says, for sending me this nice man to help. The man listening to her replies, I'm not nice. I just got out of jail for car theft. Immediately the woman looks up to Shemaim and says, Thank you, Hashem, you even sent me a professional. This week's Pasha Kitavo starts with Bikurim, a mitra of gratitude, where a farmer would bring the first fruits from the seven species of Eritz Ishrael between Shavuat and Sakot of the Beithamikdash.
The minimum was one sixtieth of one's crop. On the first pasuk in the Torah, Barishit Bara el Akim, in the beginning Hashem created, the rabbis explain that the world was created for the Rashit, for the first. Rashi explains that Torah is called Rashit, he brings down a Pasuk from Mishlay. And he also says Klalishrael are called Rashit, he brings down a Pasuk from Yerumiyahu. So for Rashi, the world was created for Torah and Klalyshrael. And that kind of makes sense, it might need some explanation, but we get a sense that that might work.
But the midrash in Barishit Rabbah also brings down that the world was created for the Reshit. And one of the things it says the world was created for is Bikurim, which is called Raishit in Pasha Mishpatim. Moreover, there's a midrash in Tanchuma on this week's Pasha in Kitava that says that Moshe foresaw that the Beitham Middash was going to be destroyed and that Bikurim would cease. So he arranged for Israel to pray three times every day. So we have two wild midrashim. One is saying that one of the things that the world was created for is Bakurim.
The other is saying that Bakurim is so important that Moshe arranged for us to pray three times a day in its place. But think about it. Of all the mitzvot in the Torah, Shabbat, Kushrit, the Khagim, how can Hazal say the world was created for Bikurim? And if Bikurim was brought once a year, why would Moshe replace it with something that we do three times every day? And there's another problem. The Gomorrah in Brachot 26 Ahmed Bet says the three to Philot that we pray correspond either to the Avot, Avraham Yitzhakin Yakov, or to the Korbanot in the Beit Hamikdash.
It never says they were instituted to replace Bikarim. So I want to explore these questions. And in so doing, I hope that we learn some new ideas and gain some khizak along the way. The Zohar explains that there are three things that belong together Am Yisrael, Eretz Ishrael, and the Shekhinah. When the holy people, Am Yisrael, inhabit the holy land, Eritz Ishrael, then the Shekhinah is in its proper place. And the Zohar says, this is why we've learned, and it quotes from the Gomorrah in Ketubot in 110 Ahmed Bet, whoever dwells in the land of Israel is like one who has a God, while whoever dwells outside the land is like one who has no God.
Now, of course, a Jew can serve Hashem anywhere, but the Zohar is saying that the covenantal relationship can only be fully realized when the holy people, Am Ishrael, are in the holy land, Ereth Ishrael, and the Shahina is with them. The Zohar then explains something extraordinary. Why does Moshe always say to Bene Israel, Hashem your God? Why doesn't he say Hashem our God? Because obviously Hashem is not just the god of Bene Israel, he's Moshe's God as well. Why not say Hashem our God? And the Zohar answers, because Moshe was not going in to enter the land and experience the Shahinah in its proper place.
Just imagine that. Moshe, the greatest prophet that ever lived, the prophet that spoke to Hashem face to face, as it were, doesn't call Hashem our God, but your God, because he's never going to experience the covenantal relationship in its fullness because he's not going to go into Eritz Israel. It's an unbelievable idea. And given this answer, the Zohar goes on to point out something else. When the farmer brings the Bikurin, he says to the Kohen, I declare to Hashem your God, that I've come to the land that Hashem swore to our forefathers to give us.
But given the answer that the Zohar just said, why would the farmer say your God? The farmer is living in the land. So surely the farmer should say our God. The Zohar answers that the Kohen comes from the side of Chesed. In other words, the Kohen represents the divine attribute of Chesed. And the farmer in that moment is acknowledging that everything he has is a divine act of Chesed represented by the Kohen. The Zohar is teaching something subtle. If the farmer said Hashem R God, of course he'd still be acknowledging Hashem.
But there's a danger in the word ah. The farmer is still inside the formulation. It can sound like I produce these fruits with the help of Hashem, my efforts and Hashem. But that's precisely what Bakuram is coming to challenge. So standing there with the fruits that he himself planted, tended, and harvested, he says to the Kohen, Hashem, you're God. In other words, it's all from Hashem and his attribute of Chesed. He removes himself from the formulation completely, because this is not a declaration of what the farmer has achieved.
It's an acknowledgement of what he's been given. It's all chesed from Hashem.
Given that Bekurim is an act of gratitude, a recognition of the Chesed that Hashem has bestowed upon us, what starts to unlock the idea that the world was created for Bakurim is the following question. Where do you start the story? The farmer arrives at the Beit Hamdash with the first fruits of his crop. It would be easy for him to think, my land, my crop, my work, my success, and at the same time to still say none of it was possible without Hashem. But that is not what Bakurim is. The fruit in the basket represents far more than a successful harvest.
The fruit represents the entire gift of Jewish existence in Eritrael. The Zohar explicitly lists that they merited to enter Eritrael, live in Eritrael, and Hashem perform these acts of goodness. That's why we have this famous declaration that we're so familiar with because we use it at Sadanite. Why doesn't the farmer come and say, you know, I planted the crops, I harvested the crops, I cultivated the crops, and now Hashem has helped me and look at what I've produced? But the farmer tells the entire story.
He starts with Lavan tried to destroy us and the Egyptians mistreated us. This is the entire Jewish story. And why mention Lavan and the Egyptians specifically? Why not mention that our Aesop tried to destroy Yaakov as well, or Amalek attacked us? Because Lavan and Egyptians are the places that we called home. We're talking about Eritz Israel. But we tried, Yaakov lived with Lavan for 20 years and he tried to destroy him. We lived in Egypt for 210 years and they tried to destroy us. And of course, to this present day, wherever Jews have lived, we've always found that we've been driven out.
People have tried to destroy us. This we've seen in Jewish history. So those are the two that the farmer mentions. Lavan, who tried to destroy us, the Egyptians who mistreated us. And then it says, Hashem, the god of our forefathers, we go right back to the promise made to Avraham, Yitzhak, and Yaakov. And Hashem took us out of Egypt and brought us to Eritch Ishrael and gave us this land. And then the farmer says, And now I've brought the first fruit of the ground that you, Hashem, have given me.
The fruits that the farmer harvested are linked right back to the beginning of Jewish history. And Rav Shimshom Raphael Hirsch explains that only the seven species for which Erit Ishrael is praised can be subject to Bikhurim, because it's these fruits that represent the whole of Jewish history, the fulfillment of a promise first made to Avram, Yitzhak, and Yaakov that Hashem would bring us to Eritch Ishrael and give us Erit Shishrael. And of course it's all from Hashem. But when you start the story from the beginning, the farmer's role is placed inside a much larger story.
The farmer says Hashem, your God, because it's Hashem's Chesed being acknowledged, not the farmer's endeavour. And when you go back right to the dawn of Jewish history, of course, the farmer's role is automatically diminished more. The Rumbam tells us that the purpose of all the mitzvot is that we believe in Hashem and be thankful to him for having created us. And now we can understand why it says that the world was created for Bikurim. Bikurim is perhaps the mitzvah that most dramatically expresses gratitude to Hashem for the entirety of our existence.
And here's the most unbelievable message for us all. Bikurim teaches us not to start the story too late. Let me give you an example. I can start with myself. I made Aliyah, I learned, I received some mekha, I became a rabbi, now I'm teaching Torah and Erit Yishrael. And that makes the story all about me, even if I acknowledge Hashem's role in that story. But I can start with my parents. I can say it's because my parents instilled in me a love of Judaism, a love of Eritrael, and a love of Klali Ishrael, that I was able to make Aliyah and learn and get some michar and become a rabbi and teach in Eritz Israel.
Or I can start with my grandparents or great-grandparents who fled pogroms in Eastern Europe, who never lost their love of Judaism and the Jewish people, who instilled that in their children and them in their children. And it was my parents that then instilled in me a love of Judaism and Erit Israel and Klali Ishrael. And I was able to make Aliyah and learn and receive Samichra and become a rabbi. Bekurim teaches me to go to all the way back to Avraham, Yitzhak, and Yaakov, to Egypt, to Redemption, and then to Eres Israel.
And it's because Hashem made a promise to Avraham, Yitzhak, and Yaaakov, and he took us out of Egypt, and he protected us and he looked after us and he gave us this land and the whole of Jewish history, that is why I was able to make Aliyah and learn and receive some mircha. That's why. Where do you choose to start the story? Too often we start it with ourselves. By starting in the right place. My life has not become less significant, it's become part of something infinitely bigger. Bikurim is the ultimate mitzvah of gratitude because it ensures that we don't falsify our Jewish history but understand it in its entirety.
That is why there's an idea that the world was created for this mitzvah. But what is the link between bikurim and tefilah?
Anyone who receives something requires protection lest it lead him to arrogance. In other words, we're in a danger when Hashem blesses us and gives us things. We're in danger at that point because we can become arrogant. We can think it's all because of us. Bikarim is not merely saying thank you after success. It takes the very first sign of success and returns it to its source. The first fruit appears, and at the moment the farmer could say, Look at what I did and I made this. The Torah says, take the raishit, the first of those fruits, take them to the bait in Hamiddash and give it back to Hashem.
Moshe did not replace the technical mitzvah of Bikurim with prayer. He replaced the spiritual function performed by Bikurim with something that could continue after the Khurban. The mitzvah of Bikurim is to give the Rashid, the beginning of everything to Hashem. And the three to Philot do the same thing with time. Each change of the stage of day creates a new rashit, morning, afternoon, and evening, and we give that beginning back to Hashem. The Svatemet says that every change of time, every stage of the day creates a new rashit.
So at Shakarit, when my Nishama, I've just woken up, my Nashama has been returned to me by Hashem. And before the day takes possession of me, I give its beginning to Hashem. And at Mincha, I've been working for a number of hours. I've achieved, I've done the shopping, I've dealt with the children, I've sorted out the home, I've had meetings, I've won some business, I've sent some emails. Mincha is the bikurim in the middle of the day. You take the fruits of your day while they are still in your hands, and you reconnect them to the source.
And at Mariv, when daylight has ended, what happened today? What went well? What did I accomplish? How does it fit into a larger story? And you return it to Hashem. The Shem Mishmo makes another link between Tefila and Bikurim. But Bikurim is not only about the raishit, it encompasses the whole human being in thought, speech, and action. So the Nefesh is our life force. It's action, it's physicality. And the farmer is physically brings the bikurim, comes up to Yurushalaim, and physically brings the bikurim and places the fruit.
And then you have ruach, emotion. The farmer makes the speech, he makes the mikra bikurim, the declaration, verbally telling the Jewish story, encompassing the whole of Jewish history. But it's not just the Nefesh, the physicality, the life force, and the Ruach, the emotion through speech, but also the Nishamah, the intellect, because the farmer bows before Hashem. And in doing that, his entire understanding of his success changes. This land, this harvest, this prosperity ultimately comes from Hashem.
Although bowing is a physical act, it's an intellectual act of submission to Hashem. So Bikurim is Nefesh, Ruach, and Nashama. It's my body, my speech and my consciousness, all redirected towards Hashem. And the Shem Ishmuel is not just making a nice construct. His point is that Bekurim represents a total act of Avadat Hashem, involving the main aspects of humanity. Bekurim is not merely gratitude, it is thankfulness for what it is to be a Jew and a reorientation of the entirety of the human personality towards Hashem.
That's the link with prayer. The Midrash says that Moshe saw the Beit Hamiddash would be destroyed and that Bikurim would cease. So he instituted that Jews should doven three times a day. He was not looking for another fruit ceremony, but to preserve the spiritual function of Bikurim. Tefilah like Bikurim encompasses the totality of the human being. So we have Nefesh, we have the action, we have the physicality. We sit, we stand, we bow, we take three steps, we face Yerushalaim. We have Ruach, the emotion, speech, because tefilah is fundamentally expressed through words.
And we have the Nashama, the intellect, because Kavana means knowing before whom we stand and submission to Hashem. And as Bikurim thanks Hashem for the totality of Jewish existence, similarly in Tefilah we acknowledge Hashem as creator. The Avot, Yet Siat Smith's rhyme, Erit Ishrael. During our davening, we cover the totality of Jewish existence. The Gomorrah in Brachot in 26 Ahmed Bet has a machlocus whether our praying three times a day comes from the Avot or the daily offerings in the Beit Hamiddash.
But the Shemishmuul explains that both ideas model the totality of service to Hashem. So Avraham served Hashem with the intellect, which represents Nishamah. He was the first to discover Hashem. He asked the question: who created the heavens and the earth for me? And he instigated Shakarit, which we say in the morning in the Bokeh, which is linked to the idea of clarity, because the morning is a time of clarity. And this is matched with the first offering in the Beida Middash, the Tamid Shell Shekha, the morning Allah entirely offered up to Hashem before the day starts, before the day takes possession of us.
And then each of the Avot builds on the other. So Yitzhak also serves Hashem with the intellect, with the Nishamah. But Yitzhak served Hashem also with ruach, with his emotional soul. He was willing to sacrifice his very being for the sake of Hashem at the Aqeda. And Mincha is perhaps the hardest raisit of all. Because by then I'm inside my own productivity. Therefore, it's when we need to make it apparent that everything is for Hashem and from Hashem. We stop in the middle of our day, when we're organizing in the house, when we're having business meetings, when we're busy doing, we stop to acknowledge that everything is from Hashem, to return the racial at that moment to him.
Yitzhak corresponds to Mincha. And the Torah's language regarding the Korbla Mincha, right, in the second chapter of Sef of Yikra, it says, when a soul offers a mincha, it captures the idea of offering the soul itself. This is Yitzhak, who is willing to give up his very soul for Hashem. And then Yaakov. He serves Hashem with Nishamah, with the intellect, and with Ruach with emotion. But then Yaakov redeems the physical world and links it to the spiritual. That's why it says in Pashak Toldot, Yaakov was a tamim dwelling in tents.
Yaakov was a complete man. He was complete because he'd reconciled the Nishama, the intellect, with the Ruach, the emotion, but even the Nefesh, the physicality, the life force. And Yaakov instituted the Maarev prayer. And this corresponds to the limbs and fats of the animal korbanot, which are roasted overnight. These are the most physical parts of the Korbanot, and they correspond to Yaqov, who harmonized physicality and spirituality. Bikurin takes the entire human personality and directs it towards Hashem.
I think as a Jew. I speak as a Jew. I act and live physically as a Jew. And those are precisely the three levels of tefilah developed historically by the Avot and reflected in the daily services of the Beitamidash. So now let's return to our question that we began with. Did the Avot institute prayer? Did the Korbah not determine prayer? Or did Moshe establish prayer because Bikarin would disappear? The Svatemet explains. The Yavot established the fundamental openings, the pathways of prayer. They open the pathways to Shakarit Minchara Marev.
The Corbanat in the Beit Ha Middash establish its fixed structure and times. And so we take our times of Davening today from the services in the Beit Ha Middash. The Midrash is saying that it's Moshe who ensured that this Avodha functioned after the loss of the Beit Ha Middash and Bikurim. Even if we understand the link between Bikurim and Tefilah, the question still remains: how can Bikurim perform once a year be replaced by tefilah, which is three times every day? The Svatemet explains that with Bikurim, Kali Ishrael attached themselves to the Rashit, to the root of Torah itself.
We now attach ourselves to the Ray Shit, which is found even in these three different stages of time in each day. The Svatemmet says the following It appears that through bringing Bikurin once a year, they accomplish that which we now require three times every day to accomplish. What's the Svatemet saying? He's saying that when the Beit Amiddash stood, Jewish life possessed a living point of connection to the Rashit. We were attached to the Rashit, living in Eritz Ishrael, as Klali Ishrael with the Shachina, as the Zohar explains, after the Khurban, that consciousness no longer sustains us automatically.
We have to rebuild it again and again and again, morning, afternoon, and night. That is why Moshe made sure that after the destruction of the Beit Migdash, that we would replace Bikurin with this davening three times a day because that connection to the Rashid, which was kind of automatic living in Eritrael with the Beit Al Migdash there with the Shakina, now needs us to constantly work at it.
As we continue our journey through El, approaching the Yamim Nora'im, the lesson is where do we start our story? Do we start with ourselves? I studied, I worked, I built, I achieved, or do we give ourselves greater perspective? Of course, we can acknowledge our own efforts, but the question is, as I widen my perspective, who else made this possible? A parent, a teacher, a colleague, a friend, and of course Hashem. And if we understand that a big part of our davening is to give the raishit back to Hashem with the totality of ourselves, then we can ask at Shacharit, what does Hashem want from me today?
At Mincha? What has happened today that is bigger than my achievement alone? And Maref, where does this fit into the larger story? Bikurim teaches us something amazing. The farmer tells a story that goes right back to the beginning of Jewish history. Lavan, Egypt, slavery, redemption, Erit Ishrael. Today we are holding fruit. Bikurim teaches us there are two ways to hold the fruit. I can hold it and say, Look what I made. Or I can hold exactly the same fruit and say, Look at the extraordinary story that brought me here.
Bikurim tells me that my life is not an isolated achievement. It is a chapter and a story that began long before me. And to fill up is the daily discipline of putting my life back into that story. Perhaps that is why the world was created for Bikurim. Because this is what Hashem wants from the human being living in his world. Not that we deny our effort, but that we recognize its source. Not that we achieve less, but that our achievements make us more grateful than more arrogant. And perhaps that's why we need Shacharit Minharev.
Because we forget. So in the morning we reconnect. In the middle of the day we reconnect, and at night we reconnect. Three times a day we take our lives like the farmer took his basket and stand before Hashem. My abilities come from you. My opportunities come from you. The people who love me come from you. The Jewish people whose story I inherited came from you. The land in which our people can once again live came from you. And ultimately, the fact that I'm standing here at all came from you. That doesn't make my life smaller.
It makes my life part of something infinitely bigger. That's Bikarim. And perhaps that is what we're trying to remember every time we double.
Apple Podcasts
Castbox
Castro
Goodpods
Moon FM
Overcast
Pocket Casts
Podbean
Podcast Addict
Podcast Republic
Spotify