Ki Tavo
Devarim 26:1-29:8
Face-to-Face Encounter as a Covenantal Act
Julia Andelman, 5761
Before commenting on this past Shabbat's parashah, I wanted to pass along a nice thought that my Talmud professor, Dr. Israel Francus, shared with us this week. The rabbis (Sifre Devarim 345) comment on the pasuk "תּוֹרָה צִוָּה לָנוּ מֹשֶׁה מוֹרָשָׁה קְהִלַּת יַעֲקֹב" ("Moshe commanded us the Torah, the heritage (morashah) of the congregation of Jacob"-- Devarim 33:4). In a typically Rabbinic play on words, they instruct us to read not "מוֹרָשָׁה", but "מְאוֹרָשָׂה" - "betrothed" - so that according to the pasuk the Torah becomes the betrothed of the Jewish people. The Sefat Emet elaborates on this midrash: why should the Torah be only the betrothed of the Jewish people, and not a full-fledged partner in marriage? Because if we are perpetually in a state of engagement, it implies that there are always new things to come, new discoveries to be made. We are in a dynamic relationship with the Torah in which we as learners play an active role - the Torah depends on us to creatively bring it into the world just as we depend on it as our source of inspiration.
In reflecting on the Beit Midrash Program at camp this past summer, I really appreciated this teaching. You all helped me so much to remember how dynamic the experience of Torah can be. You showed me, in shiur, in your chevrutot, and in casual conversations all kinds of nuances, questions, and implications that I hadn't dealt with in my personal study of the text and in my thoughts about Judaism. When I thought I had understood something, thought I "owned" the text, you showed me that my relationship with it had so much room for growth. I have told many people about the Beit Midrash Program since camp ended, and I often say that I have never studied any text as deeply as my students pushed me to do this summer! So thank you for reminding me how much I have to learn from those around me, and how exciting it can be.
Parashat Ki Tavo - a parashah of declarations - begins with the instruction that when B'nei Yisrael enter the land of Israel and settle it, each person should bring the first fruits of the soil (later called "bikurim") as an offering to the Temple, in order to thank God for keeping the promise of bringing them to the promised land, as the Torah tells us (Devarim 26:3):
| You shall go to the priest in charge at that time and say to him, "I acknowledge this day to the Lord your God that I have come into the land that the Lord swore to our ancestors to give to us." | וּבָאתָ אֶל הַכֹּהֵן אֲשֶׁר יִהְיֶה בַּיָּמִים הָהֵם וְאָמַרְתָּ אֵלָיו הִגַּדְתִּי הַיּוֹם לַיהֹוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ כִּי בָאתִי אֶל הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר נִשְׁבַּע יְהֹוָה לַאֲבֹתֵינוּ לָתֶת לָנוּ: |
After the priest accepts the offering on behalf of God, the person then recites a longer declaration - the "אֲרַמִּי אֹבֵד אָבִי" passage (5-10), which we know from the Haggadah. "Arami oved avi" is essentially a concise, one-paragraph history of the Israelite people, from the time of Avraham or Ya‘acov (depending on which interpretation you follow), through slavery in Egypt, the exodus, the arrival in the Promised Land, all the way up to the bringing of the first fruits.
The bikurim ritual essentially boils down to saying thank you. Thinking about being grateful is not the same as verbally thanking someone for something he or she has done for you. The process of thanking not only lets the other person feels appreciated, but allows you to more tangibly acknowledge your dependence on others for the most basic necessities of life.
However, another, much more dramatic declaration than that of the bikurim dominates our parashah: the quasi-reenactment of Ma‘amad Har Sinai (Revelation at Sinai) that was staged at Har Gerizim and Har Eival. The twelve tribes divide themselves in half and the two groups position themselves opposite each other on the two mountains (27:12-13). The Leviim then loudly proclaim a series of curses (e.g. "Cursed be the one who insults his/her father or mother," or "Cursed be the one who misdirects a blind person on his/her way"), and after each one the entire people answers "Amen" (14-26). After a short description of the blessings B'nei Yisrael will receive if they follow the commandments (28:1-14), the Leviim then launch into what is known as the Tokhahah (Rebuke) - a horrible and extremely lengthy description of what will happen if the people don't follow the commandments (15-69). The Tokhahah, which in many synagogues today is chanted by the Torah reader in a lowered voice (Magen Avraham on Orah Hayim 428:8), describes a disastrous disintegration of the Israelite people.
That this event served as a reenactment of Ma‘amad Har Sinai can be seen not only in the drama of the event, but in the content as well, as a number of the curses refer to violating the Ten Commandments (an observation I learned in a devar torah I received via email from Yeshivat Har Etzion's Virtual Beit Midrash). For example, the first two curses, against one who makes idols (27:15) and one who insults one's parents (16), clearly parallel the Commandments not to commit idolatry and to honor one's father and mother. The third curse, against one who moves his or her neighbor's landmark (17) parallels the Commandment not to steal, since one who does so is misappropriating the other person's land. These parallels continue. The question is: Why did B'nei Yisrael need another powerful all-nation gathering like Ma‘amad Har Sinai asserting the importance of the commandments? The most straightforward answer is that the generation that had experienced the Revelation at Sinai had died in the desert, and the new generation had only heard about it but had not seen it for themselves. It was this generation that was about to enter the land of Israel and establish a stable Israelite society there, so they needed a monumental and visceral experience of the centrality of Torah for themselves, one that would create a lasting impression that could serve to guide them along the way.
But perhaps the experience at Har Gerizim and Har Eival was in some ways superior to Ma‘amad Har Sinai. Back at Har Sinai, the people stood together at the foot of the mountain and witnessed an awesome spectacle of thunder and lightening, smoke, the trembling of the mountain, and of course the revelation itself. Moshe was the intermediary between God and the Israelites for this event. Ma‘amad Har Sinai was essentially a remote experience in which B'nei Yisrael were outside the essence of what occurred. Here at Har Gerizim and Har Eival, the people do not stand before a fiery, shaking mountain - rather, while themselves standing on the mountains, they face each other. They confirm the covenant by involving the entire community in witnessing their mutual commitment. This brings us full circle to the message of the bikurim declaration, where the face-to-face encounter involved in a verbal expression of gratitude concretizes the act - forces each party to acknowledge its role. It is an openly recognized commitment and an acknowledgement of our dependence on others to help us achieve our goals that ultimately prepare us for the challenges ahead.
This sentiment is worth keeping in mind as we enter the Rosh HaShanah/Yom Kippur season, during which we gather as a community to evaluate how we are measuring up to the challenges of being human. Admitting our failures and vulnerabilities to each other is what will ultimately give us the strength to succeed through mutual support. I hope that we can all challenge ourselves to do this not only on the High Holidays but in our personal lives throughout the year as well.
Shabbat Shalom.