Harvesting Appreciation

The Torah portion of Ki Tavo opens with the beautiful mitzvah of bikkurim, the commandment for all farmers to bring the first fruits of their crops to the Holy Temple. This mitzvah applies only to produce grown in the Land of Israel and only to the seven species for which the Holy Land is praised: wheat, barley, dates, figs, grapes, pomegranates, and olives. Each year, when the first fruits of these species appeared, the farmer would verbally designate them as bikkurim and tie a marker around them for later identification. These fruits were then placed in a basket and brought to the Temple in Jerusalem. (Until the Temple was built, the bikkurim were brought to the Tabernacle).

When the farmers arrived in Jerusalem, a variety of baskets could be seen: The simple farmers used plain, modest baskets, while the more prosperous brought their fruits in elegant silver baskets. Once in the Temple, the farmer would present the first fruits to a Kohen—one of the priests. Together, they would perform a ceremony in which both the farmer and the Kohen held the basket and waved it in six directions. Then the farmer offered a thanksgiving prayer to G‑d.

At its core, the mitzvah of bikkurim is all about gratitude, thanking G‑d for bringing us to the Holy Land, the Land promised to our forefathers.

In the bikkurim ceremony, it is as if the Jew says to G‑d, “I know I often turn to You for help, but first and foremost, I want to thank you.” In this annual declaration, we acknowledge that we are home, safe and secure in our Land, though it wasn’t always this way. We reminisce: Laban the Aramean tried to destroy our forefather Jacob, and he was forced to go down to Egypt with his small family.1 Despite arriving at Laban’s house alone and with nothing more than his walking stick, Jacob’s family blossomed in Egypt and developed into a “great, mighty, and numerous nation.”2 And now, standing in the Holy Temple with our first fruits, we say: thank you!

The idea of showing appreciation isn’t exclusive to bikkurim. Hakarat hatov—showing appreciation for the good that has been done for us—is a cornerstone of Jewish values.

In fact, it’s how we begin each day. The very first thing a Jew does in the morning—even before getting out of bed—is recite Modeh Ani, a prayer of thanksgiving:

“Modeh ani—I offer thanks to You, living and eternal King, for You have mercifully restored my soul within me; Your faithfulness is great.”

In essence, we’re thanking G‑d for the gift of waking up.

My father, Rabbi Sholom B. Gordon, of blessed memory, was very meticulous about reading the obituaries each morning. He used to say, “I wake up, look in the paper, and scan the obituaries. If I’m not there, I’m having a good day!”

Be Happy

After harvesting your produce and sharing it with the less fortunate, G‑d says, “Then, you shall rejoice with all the good that the L-rd, your G‑d, has granted you and your household—you, the Levite, and the stranger who is among you.”3

Be happy. G‑d was good to you, and you, in turn, were good to others. You were joyful, and you brought joy to others. Everyone should be happy, and everyone should celebrate.

This is also why the optimal time to bring bikkurim is between Shavuot and Sukkot—the harvest season—when the farmer was making money and his joy was at its peak.4

Tithe, and Be Blessed

In addition to the bikkurim offering, Jewish farmers were required to separate several different tithes from their produce over a three-year cycle. These were distributed to the Priests, the Levites, and the poor. One of these—the second tithe—was to be enjoyed by its owners in Jerusalem. My father, of blessed memory, used to say that in Chassidic terms, the second tithe experience is like going to Jerusalem and having a farbrengen—you take wine and good food, gather your friends and family, sit down, say lechaim, and talk about spirituality.

At the end of each three-year cycle, upon arriving in Jerusalem for Passover, each farmer would declare that he had fulfilled all his tithing duties and then beseech G‑d to bless His people and the Land:

“Look down from Your holy dwelling, from the heavens, and bless Your people Israel and the ground which You have given to us, as You swore to our forefathers: a land flowing with milk and honey.”5

The Hebrew word used for “look down” is hashkifah. There are several Hebrew words for “to look,” but hashkifah typically denotes a look of severity or judgment.

So why does the farmer’s declaration include the harsh hashkifah when asking for blessings?

We say to G‑d, “We have given tzedakah, we have fulfilled our charity obligations meticulously, we followed every rule. Therefore, please bless us in the merit of charity, transforming even the negative into good.”

Sometimes, the opposite of blessings come our way. This parshah contains the admonitions—a section of harsh rebuke that includes a lengthy description of all the curses and suffering that will befall the Jewish People when we neglect the mitzvot.

Giving charity to the poor and, more broadly, fulfilling all of our tithing obligations, triggers G‑d’s attribute of mercy rather than His attribute of justice. He prefers to bless rather than punish and always looks for ways to do so. In the merit of our charity, we ask: G‑d, please look down— hashkifah—and bless the Land You have given us. Bless it to continue flowing with milk and honey, bless the economy, and bless every Jew.

Serving G‑d with Joy

When reading the words of the Rebuke, we must pay special attention to one particular part:

“All these curses will befall you … because you did not serve the L-rd, your G‑d, with happiness and with gladness of heart, when you had an abundance of everything.”6

You had everything, and you served G‑d, but when you did so, you were miserable.

Of course, we all face challenges in our lives, but we also experience so much goodness. We need to view the proverbial glass as half full rather than half empty and serve G‑d with joy and gladness of heart, and not, G‑d forbid, the opposite.

On a lighter note, this fellow once said, “They told me, ‘Cheer up; things could be worse.’ So I cheered up, and sure enough, things got worse!”

Hidden Blessings

The Rebbe shares a beautiful story in Hayom Yom7 about Rabbi DovBer, the second Chabad Rebbe, also known as the Mitteler Rebbe. One year, his father, Rabbi Shneur Zalman, founder of Chabad, known as the Alter Rebbe, who was the designated Torah reader in his synagogue in Lyozna, was out of town during the reading of the portion of Ki Tavo, so a substitute reader took his place.

Rabbi DovBer, still a young boy of 10 or 11 at the time, heard the section of the curses and became ill. In fact, he was so sick that a few weeks later, when Yom Kippur came around, he didn’t have the strength to fast as he normally would.

The chassidim asked the young DovBer, “You hear this portion every year and are fine. Why did you suddenly become sick from hearing it?”

Rabbi DovBer explained: “When my father reads, there are no curses. I hear only blessings!”

These verses, which appear as curses on the surface, have a deeper meaning; on that level, they are blessings. When the Alter Rebbe read them, his son would hear those blessings.

From our human perspective, they appear to be curses, but from G‑d’s perspective, which we cannot see, even curses can be blessings.

On its surface, however, the Rebuke predicts difficult times and events that will befall the Jewish people, which, unfortunately, we have seen fulfilled many times. In recent times, we witnessed the horrors of the Holocaust and the atrocities of Islamic terrorism, may G‑d avenge all of the innocent Jewish blood that has been spilled throughout the ages.

The Big Picture

Describing the era of Moshiach, the Prophet Isaiah promises, “The L-rd G‑d shall wipe the tears off every face …”8

The Hebrew word for tears is dimah, which more broadly can denote crying, sadness, or tragedy. Rabbi Isaac Luria, the 16th century Kabbalist known as the Arizal, noted that the numeric value of the word dimah is the same as the word moed, which means “festival” and more broadly can denote joy, happiness, or celebration.

According to this teaching, every sad thing is really a happy thing. But it sure doesn’t feel that way! If sadness is really happiness, why does it feel so sad?

Let’s take a look at the numeric values. The word dimah equals 119, and moed equals 120. So why do we say that they have equal value? The answer lies in the gematria rule of “im hakolel,” which means that the word itself adds a value of 1. Using this method, the gematria of dimah plus the value of the word itself equals moed.

That sounds intriguing. But what is really happening here? Are tears truly transformed into festivals simply because of a special method of gematria?

The Rebbe explains that in life, we must recognize that whatever we’re going through is just one tiny part of nearly 6,000 years of creation. There’s the situation we find ourselves in, and then there’s the big picture. Im hakolel represents the big picture.9

Tears (dimah) equals 119, but when you consider the big picture, you reach 120, moed—a festival. When you view your experience from G‑d’s perspective, as part of the Master Plan, even curses can be seen as blessings.

Ignoring the big picture is like watching one minute of a 2-hour film and saying, “I don’t get it.” How could you? There’s almost two hours of scenes you haven’t seen!

What we see in life is one tiny part of the film. Thousands of years preceding it and many years will follow. We see one small frame, and yet we want to understand everything.

Remember im hakolel, says the Rebbe. To us, something may look like a tragedy, but to G‑d, it’s a celebration. And that requires the highest level of faith and the deepest trust in Him.

The End of The Story

After the people heard the curses in the Rebuke, they became frightened and doubted their ability to survive such suffering. Moses, ever the loving shepherd, reassured them:

“Yet until this day, the L-rd has not given you a heart to know, eyes to see, and ears to hear.”10 As Rashi explains11, only now do you have the ability to recognize G‑d’s kindness over all these years, and to therefore cleave to Him.

Moses continued, “I led you through the desert for forty years … No one can fathom neither the depths of his teacher’s mind nor the wisdom of his studies before forty years …”

“From now on [since today marks forty years for the people of Israel],”12 said Moses, you will begin to appreciate and understand everything I have taught you. Sometimes, you need to see the entire story, the entire picture, to understand what’s going on. You are now at the end of the story.

Forty years have passed since the Jewish People received the Torah, and they can now finally appreciate the greatness of G‑d, the greatness of the Torah, and the greatness of Moses and his teachings. After forty years, you should be able to see the big picture. You should be able to see the circumstances in your life im hakolel.

The Rebbe referenced this idea in 1990-91 when Chassidim celebrated forty years of his leadership. “It has been forty years since the passing of the Previous Rebbe,” the Rebbe said affectionately. “We are entering a new era. We can now fully appreciate his teachings and see the big picture that he was trying to show us—the vision of the arrival of Moshiach.” 13

The Rebbe encouraged us to look around and see the great miracles taking place—the fall of the Berlin Wall, the end of the Soviet Union and the fall of Communism, and the swift resolution of the Gulf War—these are Messianic events, proclaimed the Rebbe! The world has already begun to change, and the transformation can be seen.

Having passed the three-quarter mark of the sixth millennium, the year 5750 (corresponding to 1990), we have now transitioned to the Messianic era. “The time of your redemption has arrived,” declared the Rebbe.

We have seen the curses in the Rebuke too many times in our history. It’s time we see the blessings. May G‑d avenge the blood of all those murdered in the Holocaust, and more recently by Islamic terrorists, and may He grant us tremendous blessings, including the ultimate blessing—the arrival of our righteous Moshiach who will usher in the Ultimate Redemption and an end to all suffering and tragedy. May it happen speedily in our days. Amen.