Parshas Ki Tavo: Of Course You Need A Basket

Parshas Ki Tavo begins with the mitzvah of Bikkurim, the offering of the first fruits. It is not the first time that the mitzvah of Bikkurim is mentioned in the Torah, but it is the only section in which the ceremony is described in detail. The specifics - taking one’s first fruits of the Promised Land to the Kohein in the House of the Lord and reciting a special declaration – are generally well-known from the holiday of Shavuos and from the annual reading of the Bikkurim declaration as part of the text of the Haggadah. Familiar as the mitzvah may be, there is always something new to be found in the familiar words of the Torah…

The mitzvah of Bikkurim is introduced thus: “When you enter the land that the Lord your God is giving you as a heritage, and you possess it and settle in it, you shall take some of every first fruit of the soil, which you harvest from the land that the Lord your God is giving you, put it in a basket and go to the place where the Lord your God will choose to establish His name” (Devarim 26:1-2).

Bringing the first fruit of the harvest makes sense as an offering; it is almost instinctual. In fact, the very first offering to Hashem was an offering of produce brought by Kayin the son of Adam, who was a farmer (as opposed to Hevel, who was a shepherd). While the requirement of a fruit offering is logical, the wording of the pasuk itself is odd in that it in includes the instruction v’samta va’tene, and you shall place them in a basket. Once might assume, and perhaps it was so in practicality, that one would buy a nice basket in Jerusalem (or close to the designated spot before the Beis Hamikdash was complete). But the pasuk is rather straightforward – “You shall place it in the basket and [THEN] you shall go to the place.”

 The question here is why is it necessary to include an instruction to put the fruit in a basket? Since no one was walking to Jerusalem holding a collection of figs in their hands, it seems obvious that the fruit needs to be put in something. So here we learn that the Bikkurim are not just to be put in any vessel on hand, but specifically in a Tene.

This term, tene, is found 4 times in the chumash, and all of them are in Parshas Ki Tavo – twice in perek 26, in the direct commandment, and twice in perek 28, as part of the blessings and the curses and as an obvious reference to the harvested first fruits. It is therefore apparent that a tene is a rather unique basket. By definition, according to the sages, it was a fairly simply basket woven together from willow branches. Taking an esoteric turn, one might note the oddness of the shoresh (root of the word) Tes – Nun – Aleph, since words that start with Tes are uncommon, as are words that end with Aleph, and one might notice how these three letters are all firmly rooted to the ground, like a tree.*

The inclusion of the instruction to place the fruit in the tene tells us that there is significance to this act in and of itself. Rabbi Shimshon Rafael Hirsh comments, based on Sifri, that by placing that bikkurim in a basket specifically created for this demonstrates that these fruits are to be transported elsewhere.  Rabbi Sholom Wineberg, based on the teaching of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (on Chabad.org), notes that the nature of the tene limits the amount of fruit that one can bring, which reflects  the Baal HaTurim’s discussion that since the numeric value of the letters of tene add up to 60, one should bring 1/60^th. Finally of interest here, Chizkuni comments that one adds dignity to carrying the fruit on the pilgrimage by carrying it in a special container.

 While the tene may have been intended as a simple basket of woven willow, the Mishne describes the ceremony thus: “The rich would bring their bikkurim in baskets overlaid with silver or gold, while the poor used wicker baskets of peeled willow-branches, and the baskets and the bikkurim were given to the priests” (Mishnayos Bikkurim 3:3). It starts with a simple basket made of willow in which to carry the fruit and then, in time, the baskets get fancier until eventually those who can (or think they can) are bringing baskets covered in silver and gold. Whether the intention was the honest desire to enhance the mitzvah or a more selfish urge of one-upmanship, the fancier baskets actually changed the ceremony, as described in Talmud Baba Kama 9a, where it notes that when the Kohanim were given the bikkurim of the wealthy, they returned their baskets to them, but when they received the baskets of the poor, these baskets were kept.

 One might go back to simple wordplay and note how similar in sound tene (Tes-Nun-Aleph) is to the command form of the word Give, Ten (Taf-Nun). The silver and gold overlay ultimately kept one from giving the entire offering to Hashem, since it says: “You shall go to the priest in charge at that time and say to him, ‘I acknowledge this day before the Lord your God that I have entered the land that the Lord swore to our fathers to assign us. The priest shall take the basket from your hand and set it down in front of the altar of the Lord your God” (Devarim 26:3-4). The Kohein is meant to take the basket too, but such an enhanced basket is no longer its pure natural element. It is less connected to the offering which it carries.

 As we approach the High Holidays, perhaps there is a lesson that we can take from the mitzvah of bikkurim and the history of this uniquely named basket. On the Yomim Noraim (the Days of Awe), we bring ourselves before Hashem. Now is not the time to overlay ourselves with silver and gold, either physically or spiritually. Enhance the Yom Tov by dressing nice, but not for a fashion show. Prepare yourself for the Yom HaDin (Day of Judgement) by coming forward honestly, not with your actions overlaid by pretty rationalizations.

 The mitzvah of Bikkurim is one which we can only complete in the Promised Land in the days when Hashem once again choose a place to establish His name (bimhera b’yameinu/speedily in our days!) But the lessons we can take from the mitzvah are with us every day.

 

*There is a fascinating discussion of the etymology of the word, perhaps it even being an Egyptian word, but Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein once could read here: https://ohr.edu/yhiy/article.php/8981?showobject=1

 

Parshas Ki Tetze: Taking One’s Own Measure

We are now halfway through the month of Elul, the month of preparation for the Jewish New Year. Rosh Hashana – head of the year – is, in truth, a misnomer that downplays the importance of the day. There are several “new years” on the Jewish calendar, but there is only one Yom HaDin, Day of Judgement, and it is for the Yom HaDin that we prepare throughout the month of Elul.

Preparing during Elul means different things to different people – hopefully more than just the cleaning, cooking, and shopping that the holiday season inspires. Some people begin the process of Cheshbon Hanefesh, of taking an accounting of their souls and reviewing their behavior over the course of the last year. Others focus on the future and begin to create lists of actions or character traits they wish to improve on in the year to come. There are, of course, those who stop to calculate how “good” or “bad” the year that past has been to them, and there are those who waste time worrying of who should be seeking them out to ask for Mechila (forgiveness).

Overall, though, the month of Elul is when Jews around the world focus on teshuva, repentance, and it is no surprise that one can find inspiration and direction on this process from the words of the parsha. This week is Parashas Ki Tetze, which covers a tremendous amount of halacha, listing most of the laws in a rapid-fire style and leaving deeper explanations for the Oral Torah.

Parashas Ki Tetze concludes with the commandment to remember the actions of Amalek, the nation who dared to attack the Israelites immediately after they exited the Yam Suf, theSea of Reeds and whom the Jewish people are commanded to destroy. One interesting aspect of the discussions of Amalek is that some commentators compare Amalek to the Yetzer Harah, the evil inclination, and see the commandments to annihilate Amalek as an injunction to constantly work against our natural desires that go against the moral fiber and the basic mitzvot of the Torah. It is no easy task, and it is a task in which every person must engage every single day.

Before the Torah speaks of Amalek, however, it addresses an important halachic situation that appears to be only randomly connected to remembering what Amalek did. In fact, it appears to be completely commercial in nature, and yet could, like the command to wipe out Amalek, be instructions for deeper moral fortitude: “You shall not keep in your pouch two different weights, one large and one small. You shall not keep in your house two different measures, one large and one small. You shall have a dull and honest weight, a full and honest measure, in order that your days will be prolonged on the land which the Lord your God gives you. For whoever does these things, whoever perpetrates such injustice, is an abomination to the Lord your God” (Devarim 25:13-16).

At face value there is absolutely no question that this section of the parsha is talking about fair commerce and making certain that there is not even a hint of dishonesty in one’s business. However, if one would find a theme in the preceding sections of Perek 25, it would be the avoidance of embarrassing another person. Indeed, the very first law, which is against adding any lashes to a flogging punishment, concludes “lest … your brother be degraded before your eyes” (25:2).

So how does a prohibition of uneven weights and measures connect to avoiding the embarrassment of another and the war against Amalek? And how does any of this tie into Elul?

One of the greatest challenges of human nature is judgementalism. On a developmental level it is necessary to study the behaviour of those around us and even to categorize behaviours as good and bad. But most often we go far beyond judging a behavior and judge other people as good and bad. Once we are busy weighing the actions of other people and measuring their value, then we must remember these pasukim (verses). How often do we live by a double standard – judging others for actions that we ourselves have, at other times, done? How easily do we criticize a neighbor or even a loved one for behaviors that in our own selves we excuse and rationalize? How common is it to publicly raise an eyebrow over someone else’s life only to close one’s door and act in the very same manner?

It is said that one of the reasons Amalek is considered evil is because they represent the belief in happenstance and chaos over the belief in Divine intervention. When we believe that we have the right… when we believe that we have the ability … to judge another person’s actions (especially when those actions have nothing to do with ourselves), then we too are, in a way, declaring a diminished belief in Hashem’s control of the world.

This brings us back to Elul. The Yom HaDin is fast approaching, and there is only one person whose behavior we must measure – our own selves. Do not worry about who needs to ask you for mechila, and do not judge them if they do not. Rather think about your own behavior, turn and evaluate your own year. Once your have put aside weighing the merits of others, you can focus on the greatest struggle of all (the one we avoid by focusing on others), and that is the constant work of overcoming the yetzer harah that impedes us from drawing closer to Hashem.

 

 

Parshas Shoftim: The Risk of SelfDelusion

The second perek of Parshas Shoftim appears to have four main topics of discussion. The first, and shortest, is the prohibition of bringing an animal with a blemish as an offering to Hashem. This one verse statement is followed by the instructions of how the discovery of a man or a woman who is serving avodah zarah should be handled, including a warning for the necessity of multiple witnesses for capital punishment. The third topic of Devarim 17 is what to do when there is a complicated dispute, which includes a firm reminder that if one comes to seek superior judgement, it cannot then be ignored. Finally, the perek reiterates the warning to the future kings of Israel against having too many horses, too many wives, or too much wealth, as well as the need for the king to write for himself two sifrei Torah. While the four topics seem randomly put together – perhaps, as if, in giving his final address, Moshe was moving to whatever topic came to mind – there is actually an overarching theme, and that theme is a warning against self-delusion. 

What does self-delusion have to do with the prohibition of bringing an offering with a blemish? This is actually quite obvious to anyone who has ever walked out of the house with a slight stain on their shirt and decided that if anyone noticed they would simply act as if it just happened or they had no idea it was there. Obviously, it is possible for someone to bring an offering without knowing there is a blemish, but that is not the case being discussed. The prohibition is against bringing an animal with a blemish, thus implying that one knew that the animal was inadequate. A person would only bring an unacceptable offering if one believed that it was not that important, that Hashem would understand, or if one only really cared that others saw one bringing an offering and not on the actual quality of one’s avodah. 

The case of the man or the woman who serves avodah zarah seems obvious at first since anyone who chooses idols or the worship of the son or moon or etc is deluding themselves by denying Hashem’s rulership. But actually, within this section is a far greater warning – the danger of bearing witness. Why do we not condemn a person based on a singular eye-witness account? Because the chance that the information has been distorted is too great. In all capital cases, including this one, those who are witnesses are also the one’s who begin the ultimate punishment. The man or the woman who worships avodah zarah has committed a terrible sin, but before one sets them on a path of execution, one must be one hundred percent certain lest their own actions lead them to the traumatic role of taking another’s life. 

In the third discussion, that of seeking higher judgement, there is, once again, a warning. Do not seek out judgement unless you truly want justice. If you are only out to win, to turn the law to your favor, then you set yourself up at great risk, for seeking a higher ruling and then ignoring it becomes a capital offense. 

The laws of the king complete this perek and, in truth, can be interpreted for every member of Bnei Yisrael. Power is the easiest path to self-delusion and corruption. Any person who attains power, and that can be interpreted differently by different people depending on their own life situations, can easily believe that their achievements are a statement of their inherent goodness or strength of character or intelligence. How often do we see famous people fall to misfortune because they believe that they can break the norms of society, that laws and mores do not apply to them? For this reason, the Torah speaks to the top-most persona in the Jewish nation, the king, and lays out openly the easiest ways for a man to be led astray and the best means to prevent it.

The Torah is a book of law and a theology of truth. In all matters of halacha and hashkafa, being honest about one’s intentions is paramount. Moshe, in his final recounting of the Torah, grouped these sections of law together because they all subtly highlight the very varied ways in which every person has the ability to delude themselves that they are acting with the best intention. One might think that bringing a sheep even with a little blemish is still bringing a sheep, but, in fact, it is rather the completion of the self-delusion that one is acting on the will of the Divine rather than basic human instincts. This simple example is the foundation of all of these subjects. No matter one's station, a person must stop themselves from being corrupted by selfish instinct and evaluate the true motives of their actions.

Parshas Ra’eh: The Deeper Purpose of Shamor

Being an observant Jew requires vigilance. It requires constant consideration of one’s actions and whether those actions reflect the standards of Jewish law and the spirit of Torah morality. One of the most commonly repeated words of command in the Torah is the term shamor, which is translated most frequently as either guard or observe. The most famous usage of the term shamor is the mitzvah of Shabbas, as part of the duality of shamor v’zachor, guard and remember, in which the lo ta’aseh, the prohibitions of Shabbat that enforce “rest” are the means of guarding the holy day while the positive actions fulfill the instruction of remembering it.

Devarim 12:28, in parshas Re’eh, has a different, and rather interesting, pairing of the word shamor: “Shmor v’shamata es kol hadevarim haeleh…Guard and you shall hear all these commandments that I command you in order that it will go well for you and your children after you forever, because you will do what is good and what is right in the eyes of Hashem your God.”  Some commentators connect this statement solely to the section in which it is contained, to the discussion of the permission to eat [kosher] meat freely, the prohibition against eating blood, and the reminder that any animals designated for sacrifice must be brought upon the altar. However, the fact that the pasuk refers to kol hadevarim haeleh and that the verse promises that “it will be good for you and your children after you forever because you will do what is good and what is right in the eyes of Hashem your God” lead many commentators to see this as a separate statement – independent and pertaining to both mitzvos and the way in which one leads one’s life. The goal of guarding and hearkening to the mitzvos is to lead a life in which one does hatov v’hayashar, what is good and what is right.

According to the Tur HaAruch, Moshe used shmor v’shamata because “he wanted to include matters which go beyond legislated mode of behavior and which fall under the category of ‘do what is fair and good,’ to go beyond what is demanded of them in order to demonstrate that they act in the spirit of the Torah voluntarily and not under compulsion and threat of penalty” (Sefaria commentary translations). In order to live properly, one must do more than observe the mitzvos, one must observe the mitzvos in order to “hear” the deeper ways of the law, in order to find the spirit of the law that leads one to a moral, upstanding life.

The Ramban hints at this idea as well, saying that the verse is talking about more than static laws: “He [Moshe] did not mention here the statutes and ordinances, nor His testimonies and His commandments, but said all those words in order to include in this observance the good and the right” (ibid). Indeed, Rashi is even more specific in what is being discussed in this pasuk when he explains that “Hatov, what is good, refers to action that is proper in the eyes of the Heavenly father, while hayashar, what is right, refers to an action that appears proper in the eyes of men” (ibid).

Let us step back a moment and reflect on shamor’s other famous pairing in order to gain a deeper understanding of how guarding leads to hearing and how they, together, lead to a good and upright life for all one’s generations. In the dual commandments of Shabbas, shamor v’zachor - guard and remember, zachor refers to all of the positive mitzvos of the day – to making kiddush and motzei, to lighting candles, and etc. These are the beautiful actions that fill our neshamos with joy, that are passed down from generation to generation with personal flourishes, but that also, all too often have faded away when not powered by shamor. Guarding the prohibitted actions of Shabbas can, from the outside, seem fussy and difficult. One must understand, however, that in order to remember Shabbas, we must observe it, guard it. In order to pass on the beautiful tradition of candles and kiddush, one must guard the entire day. 

So too is the pairing of shmor v’shamata. In order to live a life that is good and proper, and to pass it on to one’s children, one must begin by guarding/observing the mitzvos. In so doing, one will then come to “hear” them, to understand the impact that they have on one’s life and to connect with them on a deeper level. For instance the mitzvos discussed in Devarim 15, which review the laws of shemitah as it pertains to loans, also delves into how one should treat the poor. Knowing that the Torah says “Give to him readily and have no regrets when you do so, for in return the Lord your God will bless you in all your efforts and in all your undertakings” (15:10), one can move beyond the letter of the law of giving without hesitation to creating organizations that seek out ways in which to give and to improve the lives of those in need. One mitzva explored, heard, understood…leads to more. It leads to bigger and better. It leads to leading an upright life.

The Ohr HaChaim points out about Devarim 12:28: “Our verse may also remind a person who is in the habit of fulfilling a particular commandment and is fully aware of what it entails not to say that he does not need to study this commandment. Moshe tells us that study even of commandments which we fulfil as a matter of routine is a separate mitzvah and is not to be neglected” (Sefaria). Shmor v’shamata is both a philosophical and a practical mitzvah. Just as we must always guard/observe the mitzvos of the Torah, so too must we always be seeking to understand the mitzvos and their impact on us, as well as the importance of using the mitzvos to lead a life that is truly hatov v’hayashar, what is good and what is right.