A Taste of Shabbos – Parashat Ki Tavo

Lots of interesting themes here: first fruits, giving thanks, Haggadah references, and predictions of future catastrophes. The overriding theme seems to be the importance of gratitude and appreciation of even the tiniest blessings in our lives, in spite of major challenges.

Todah-thank you, comes from the root of the name Yehudah, whose birth elicited a profound thanksgiving from his mother Leah. Ever since then, Jews have been called ‘Yehudim’ the thankful ones. This trait is very much linked to the attribute of humility, which according to the Hassidic masters especially, is not just a nice quality but a foundational value without which even good characteristics don’t mean very much and can lead to trouble.

In the language of the Torah, humility can be equated with the term ‘Fear of G-d.’ In this context fear refers to a sense of awe or respect for the unknowable, that which is beyond our rational understanding. A rabbi on FB said that one of his young students, compared ‘Chukim’ laws beyond logic, to abstract paintings which are more mysterious than other types of art. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, especially in relation to this parasha, the bulk of which deals with forecasts of disasters that can affect the Jewish people, if they stray from the Torah’s guidance system. How do these calamities begin? A later verse in this parasha tells us: ‘Since you didn’t serve G-d with happiness and with goodness of heart.’ In other words, to be grateful for the blessings in our lives, individually and collectively can help immunize ourselves against impending dangers.

The opening subject of the parasha is gratitude in action. It describes bringing the first fruits of the land to the Cohen. This process involved a fancy ceremony, almost like a parade, for what seems to be a simple process. The Mishna relates that after a season of much activity and growth, a farmer goes down to his orchard. When he sees the very first appearance of a fruit, he may be tempted to pluck it and take a bite. Instead, he ties a ribbon around it to designate it as a sanctified gift to G-d via the priest in the holy temple. There is so much implied in this modest act. First of all, it is a restraint of an ordinary human impulse of desire. As a positive gesture, it represents an expression of gratitude for a divine blessing.

A curious detail presented by the sages, is the difference between the container and basket of fruit from a poor person or a wealthy one. The rich one gets his fancy container back, while the poor man’s straw basket belongs to the cohen together with the fruit. Some think this is like the sarcastic saying, ‘the rich get richer while the poor get poorer.’ Actually the Hassidic masters see this in a positive light; since the poor farmers come with more personal dedication and self-sacrifice, their gifts are considered the more valued treasures.

Few of you reading this are literal farmers, but we all G-d willing, wake up with the gift of a new day of life. Saying the prayer of Modeh Ani before any other act, whether mundane or holy, is like tying a thread around the first fruit. That expression of early thanks opens our hearts and minds to see opportunities for kindness throughout the day, in the most unexpected places. Since my Hebrew name Yehudis shares the root of the word for kindness, I find myself in my elder years, feeling more and more grateful for the blessings in my life.

There is more to the farmer’s process. In a surprising role reversal, when the farmer presents his gifts, he recites a sermon to which the cohen, the usual teacher, finds himself the listener. The Mei Hashiloach says that the import of that reversal is that the farmer is telling the teacher, that even the lowly man of the field has lessons for the teacher. The farmer learned from the way of the world to see the hand of G-d in a multitude of earthly events. So too, no one need be envious of another when learning to be grateful for one’s own unique role in life. In order to do so, like the famous Israeli song, one must appreciate both ‘the honey and the sting.’

Thus we have a remedy before we get to the end of the parsha with its string of misfortunes, called by the sages, ‘Tochacha’ meaning ‘warning or rebuke.  Now, if this is still part of the Torah, it could not be an absolute curse because if so then it could not be part of a prophecy since if it introduced absolute sadness, the prophetic spirit would not have rested upon Moshe. There is a story about the son of the first Lubavitcher Rebbe. When he was a young boy, his father went away for the Shabbat when this parasha was read. The boy fainted during the readings of the curses. When he was revived he explained, ‘When my father is home, he reads these verses and I don’t hear anything negative’. This was because underlying the terrible sounding verses, are really blessings in disguise.

Many of us have had experiences in our lives that seemed awful at the time, but later did turn out to be blessings in disguise. Faith is a key prerequisite to this perspective. As in the song made famous through the Holocaust, ‘Ani Maamin.’ ‘I believe with complete faith in the coming of Mashiach, and even though he tarries, still I will wait for him, that he may appear every day.’ In these times of increasing dangers for the Jewish people around the world, the promise of Moshiach that existed from the beginning of creation, has sustained our people throughout history. The name and first words of ‘Ki Tavo’ means ‘when you come’ to the land’. It is not just meant geographically or politically, but rather to a promise of a time which will feel like the most exalted Shabbos of history. In the song that ushers in Shabbat, we sing ‘Bo’ee kallah,’ Come oh bride! As a taste of the world ‘to come,’ we need not wait for a different universe. We have twenty four hours &, every week to breath in the hidden gift that G-d is bestowing upon us every seventh day. Place this gift in the basket of Shabbos delight, and your gratitude will keep expanding to infinity.