September 4, 2020
Thank You For All The Kindness
Ki Tavo, 5780
Our Torah portion this week is bookended by two extreme situations.
The first scenario is a time of happiness and success.
In the opening verses we read about the mitzvah of bikurim (26:1-11). This is the commandment to bring our first fruits in a basket to the kohen in the Beit Hamikdash and express thanks to Hashem. The passage depicts a moment in time where we have achieved financial success and physical security. We dwell securely in our land and are able to enjoy the fruits of our labors. This description ends on a note of pure delight. “Vesamachta bekhol hatov, and you must rejoice in all the good that your Gd has given to you” (26:11).
The reason why we have the mitzvah of bikurim is precisely to remind us that when things are going well we must express our gratitude to Hashem.
As the great medieval work, Sefer Hachinuch explains:
“Therefore, in that God did good to him, and in that He blessed him and his land to bear fruits, and he merited to bring the fruits to the House of our God; it is appropriate for him to arouse his heart with the words of his mouth and ponder that everything arrived to him from the Master of the universe, and he recount His kindnesses, may He be blessed, upon us and upon the people of Israel, more generally.”
What a contrast with the scenario at the end of our portion which is called the tochecha, the curses. At great length and in great detail the Torah describes all the curses that will befall us if we do not follow the commandments of Hashem (28:15-68).
The Torah doesn’t spell out the relationship between the bikurim and the tochecha but their close proximity invites a connection.
One suggestion is to view their relationship in the context of the rabbinic statement, “Chayav adam levareh al hara’ah keshem she-hu mevarekh al hatovah, One must bless [God] for the evil in the same way as one blesses for the good” (Berachot, 9:5).
The rabbis teach us that we must recite a blessing over every situation. Surely we will sometimes hear good news in life and sometimes bad news. The rabbis teach that one must view everything as a blessing from Gd. Perhaps this is the reason for the proximity of the curses to bikurim—to remind us that everything has one source and we must view everything as a blessing from Gd.
Unfortunately, this rabbinic requirement to bless the bad events in life makes sense in theory but is much more difficult in practice.
Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz, z”l, tells the following story of Rabbi Meilish of Warsaw, a learned rabbi who was also a rich merchant. One time word came to the community that the rabbi’s entire fortune was lost at sea. His students heard the bad news and were afraid to tell their teacher. One student took the task upon himself. He went to the rabbi and asked, “If we hear of bad news do we have to say a bracha?” “Of course,” said the rabbi, citing the Mishnah from Berachot. Continued the student, “What if someone loses their entire fortune at sea?” The rabbi said unequivocally, “Such a person is required to make a blessing.” The student continued, “Rebbe, you have lost everything. All your ships have been sunk.” Upon hearing this, the rabbi fainted. He awoke and declared, “I no longer understand the mishnah that requires me to make a blessing on hearing bad tidings.”
Rabbi Steinsaltz pointed out that this obligation to bless bad tidings is a close cousin of another rabbinic phrase, “gam zu latovah—everything that happens is for the best.” These are beautiful phrases but they are also dangerous in the sense that for some people these words can be very, very difficult to hear. In telling the story, Rabbi Steinsaltz was making the point that this obligation to bless bad tidings is often incomprehensible and not always helpful to our spirituality. It can lead us to places of tremendous confusion. Someone may choose to take such an approach on one’s own, but we must never suggest it to others as an explanation for their problems. (The story is cited in Arthur Kurzweil, On the road with Rabbi Steinsaltz, 246.)
A problem with the phrase gam zu latovah is that it can be misunderstood as an excuse to distract us from our own spiritual responsibilities. If our response is limited to “everything is the best,” we can make the mistake of being too passive about our situation. So too, this approach may also sometimes fall short of giving us the necessary strength to deal with large obstacles that we face in life.
Gam zu latovah is a beautiful approach to life, but it must be supplemented by another teaching. When we say “gam zu latovah,” we must also follow the lessons inherent in the bikurim ceremony. The bikurim ceremony reminds us that we have a spiritual responsibility to express our gratitude to Hashem. Focusing on gratitude, as opposed to just saying “gam zu latovah,” is a helpful spiritual tool that can fortify us even in life’s darkest moments.
When we brought the first fruits to the Beit Hamikdash as part of the bikurim ceremony we were required to recite a formulaic statement before the kohen. The first words we said were, “Arami oved avi, an Aramean tried to destroy my father” (26:5). Why start with the negative? It is a reminder that a) the road to the first fruits was actually very difficult; and b) there will always be other “Arameans” lining up to destroy us. The way to have the spiritual strength to defeat the obstacles we face in life is by developing a strong relationship with Hashem built on a foundation of our constant gratitude for Hashem’s gifts.
At our parasha class this week I told the following story. I had told this story before, but this week the story one participant in the study session interjected a new ending.
Says the pasuk: “The LORD will let loose against you calamity, panic, and frustration in all the enterprises you undertake, so that you shall soon be utterly wiped out because of your evildoing in forsaking Me” (Devarim 28:8).
This is the opening pasuk to the tochecha, the curses that the Torah tells will happen to the Jewish people. There is a long tradition of the baal koreh reading these curses in a low and quick voice in order to demonstrate that we pray that these curses do not actually happen to us.
Rabbi Avi Weiss told me the following story about this practice.
In 1927, Rabbi Yekusiel Yehudah Halberstam became rabbi of Klausenberg in Transylvania. From then on he was known as the Klausenberger Rebbe. When the Holocaust happened the rebbe’s wife and 11 children were murdered by the Nazis. Additionally many, many from his community were murdered. After the war, the rebbe became known as one of the leaders of the Jewis who were in Displaced Persons camp. He started organizations for them and helped lead the efforts to rebuild the Jewish community.
In 1947 the Rebbe was able to emigrate to America and he established a shul in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
The first shabbas after his arrival, was parasha Ki Tavo. The community gathered for Torah reading. The ba’al koreh came to the tochecha and started to read it fast and low. The rebbe came to the bima and stopped the ba’al koreh. He said, “Read it louder.” The ba’al koreh was confused. He knew the custom but still he didn’t want to disrespect the rebbe by not listening. So he raised his voice a litte. The rebbe stopped him again and said, “louder.” Again, the ba’al koreh raised his voice only a little. The rebbe stopped him again and said, “As loud as you can.” The Ba’al Koreh screamed the tochecha on the top of his lungs.
After the ba’al koreh finished the tochecha the rebbe explained, “Every single word of these curses came true upon us. We need to read the words loudly to show they came true. Now it is time for the brachos to come true as well.”
Indeed, many of the blessings came true upon the rebbe himself. He remarried had many children and grandchildren and founded a strong and vibrant network of Jewish schools and institutions internationally.
Luckily, now that our classes are on zoom, my parents are able to attend the parasha class. When I finished telling this story to our class, my father spoke up. My father grew emotional and told us that he used to study with a rabbi named Shlomo Kahane. Rabbi Kahane told him that in 1950 he once went to a tisch of the Klausenberger Rebbe on a Friday night. After singing Sholom Aleichem, the rebbe recited a special prayer. He said aloud the prayer, “I am grateful to you Hashem for all the kindness that you have done for me (al kol hachesed asher asitah imadi) and that you will do for me in the future and with all of my household.” Said Rabbi Kahane, the rebbe then proceeded to sing those words again and again for the next thirty minutes. Here was a man, who lost his wife and 11 children, singing every Friday night for thirty minutes: “Thank you Hashem for the kindness that you have done for me.”
The Talmud says that we are required to sing the bikurim passage (Erkhin, 11a). The more we sing our gratitude to Hashem the more we will foster a mindset that focuses us forward and not backwards and gives us positive energy to rise to any challenge.
The end of our portion describes tremendous challenges that we may face in life. There is a rabbinic idea that the Torah always provides the cure before the disease. In this case, the mitzvah of bikurim reminds us that by expressing gratitude to Hashem on a regular basis we will have the spiritual strength to face life’s challenges.
Shmuel Herzfeld
