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Parashat Ki-Tavo opens with the mitzva of "bikkurim," requiring a farmer to bring the first fruits that ripen to the kohen in the Beit Ha-mikdash. Today we will discuss an interesting halakhic issue regarding this mitzva, the quantity of fruits required for bikkurim.

The mishna in Masekhet Bikkurim 2:3 lists several differences between bikkurim on the one hand and the parallel requirement of "teruma" and "ma'aser" (percentages of produce given to the kohen and levi, respectively) on the other. The mishna writes that as opposed to the latter, which both have a minimum required quantity, no such standard exists regarding bikkurim. "Ma'aser," as its name indicates, involves giving 10% of one's yield to the levi. "Teruma" has no minimum quantity as far as Torah law is concerned, but Chazal instituted a required amount of no less than 1/60^th, preferably more (Terumot 4:3). Bikkurim, the mishna implies, has no minimum quantity even on the level of rabbinic enactment. It appears that one may bring the kohen even a single, tiny fruit as his bikkurim. (Recall as well the inclusion of "bikkurim" in the opening mishna of Masekhet Pei'a, which we recite every day, as among the mitzvot with no required quantity.)

How startling it is, then, to read the Rambam's ruling in Hilkhot Bikkurim 2:17, where he mentions a rabbinic edict requiring a minimum amount of 1/60^th for bikkurim. Although this view does appear in a berayta cited by the Yerushalmi (in the name of Rabbi Shimon), indicating that the tanna'im disputed this point, why would the Rambam adopt the ruling in the berayta over the explicit position of the mishna?

The Vilna Gaon, in his Shenot Eliyahu, suggests that the Rambam does not, in fact, rule against the mishna. Even according to the Rambam, bikkurim and teruma/ma'aser differ from one another with regard to their minimum requirements. Whereas one who gives less than 1/60^th of his produce as teruma has not fulfilled his requirement and must give more, the minimum amount for bikkurim does not hinder one's fulfillment of the mitzva. Thus, one who mistakenly brought a lesser amount to the kohen in Jerusalem need not schlep back to his farm to bring more fruits.

This distinction itself, however, requires explanation. Why should this be the case? Why would Chazal institute an indispensable minimum requirement for teruma and ma'aser, but not for bikkurim?

A beautiful answer is suggested by Rav Avraham Gurewitz, in his "Or Avraham" on Sefer Devarim. Commenting on the beginning of our parasha, Rashi describes the procedure of selecting one's bikkurim. Quite simply, upon seeing the first fruits having ripened the farmer ties a string around them to designate them as bikkurim. We see that unlike teruma and ma'aser, which only the individual can designate as such, bikkurim-fruits receive their sanctity automatically by ripening before the others. A separate provision allows a farmer to designate other fruits, as well, as bikkurim, in addition to the actual first fruits. (The Rishonim have different views as to the Biblical source of this provision.) However, these additional fruits can in no way share equal status with the first fruits. As such, when Chazal (as the Rambam claims) required one to add onto his first fruits and bring 1/60^th of all his fruits as bikkurim, they could not possibly have defined all this fruit as actual bikkurim. This status is reserved for the first fruits that ripened; the others are considered "tosefet bikkurim," additional bikkurim-fruits of a lower level of sanctity. In light of this difference in stature between the actual first fruits and the additional fruits, explains Rav Gurewitz, we can better understand the explanation of the Vilna Gaon. Since these added fruits can never attain a status equal to the Biblically-mandated bikkurim, they cannot be indispensable for the fulfillment of this mitzva. Chazal may require one to bring these additional fruits, but his failure to do so cannot render his performance of the mitzva inherently incomplete.

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The most prominent feature of Parashat Ki-Tavo is undoubtedly the "tokhecha," the gruelingly long and frightening list of curses promised to befall Benei Yisrael should they disobey the commandments. In 28:47, Moshe interrupts his presentation of horror to offer a somewhat more precise explanation as to why God will unleash this devastation: "Because you did not serve the Lord your God in joy and gladness out of the abundance of everything." On the simple level of interpretation, we might have read this verse as follows: "Because you did not serve the Lord your God when you experienced joy and gladness and with the abundance of everything." Meaning, Benei Yisrael are punished for not having properly utilized the blessings and peace of mind they once enjoyed. As punishment, they are smitten with fear, pain, anguish and terror.

However, even our earliest written sources appear to interpret the verse differently, attributing the divine wrath to the absence of joy in the nation's service of God. The Gemara in Masekhet Arakhin 11a cites this verse as a possible textual source for the musical accompaniment to the Temple service. The "service of God" of which the verse speaks refers to the service in the Mikdash, and the "joy and gladness" denotes the upbeat melodies sung by the levi'im. The Rambam, in Hilkhot Yom Tov 6:20, applies this verse even more generally: "We were not commanded with regard to frivolity and foolishness, but rather with regard to joy involving the service of the Creator of all, as it says, 'Because you did not serve the Lord your God in joy and gladness.' We learn from here that the service must be with joy." Though the Rambam here focuses on the critical distinction between genuine joy and silliness, he clearly presents in this passage his reading of the verse, that it refers to serving God with joy at all times. He writes this even more explicitly at the end of Hilkhot Lulav: "The joy which a person experiences when performing a mitzva and with the love of God who commanded it constitutes a great service [of God]. Whoever holds himself back from this joy is deserving of punishment, as it says, 'Because you did not serve the Lord your God in joy and gladness.'"

In truth, this reading of the verse may emerge not only on the level of "derash," homiletic interpretation, but even on the level of "peshat," the straightforward understanding, as well. When studying a verse on the level of "peshat," one must take into account the "te'amim," the notes of cantellation dictating how the verse is to be read. According to the first reading, the clause, "in joy and gladness" should connect with the final clause, "out of the abundance of everything." The verse chastises the people for not having properly served the Almighty when they enjoyed prosperity and good fortune, when the experienced "joy and gladness" as a result of their "abundance of everything." The verse, however, interrupts these two clauses with an "etnachta," the reader's "stop sign" that calls for a pause. The verse thus reads, "… in joy and gladness, out of an abundance of goodness." Sure enough, this yields the Rambam's interpretation, that "joy and gladness" modifies the verb "serve," rather than describing Benei Yisrael's condition when they disobeyed the commandments. This verse thus lends itself quite easily to the Rambam's reading, whereby lack of enthusiasm in mitzva observance leads to the disasters vividly described in this parasha.

So, what does this mean? How could it be that the devastation takes place simply on account of Benei Yisrael's lack of joy when performing the mitzvot?

Rav Chayim of Volozhin is cited as understanding this verse as referring to one's overall attitude towards mitzvot, rather than the mood accompanying his performance. Service of God bereft of "joy and gladness" rthe burdensome, compulsory service performed for a master who imposed his authority upon the servant. One must approach mitzvot with a sense of "ashreinu ma tov chelkeinu," an awareness of the priceless fortune provided by the opportunity to observe mitzvot. The alternative attitude, one of undesired subservience and despised subjugation, reflects a fundamentally flawed perspective on Torah and mitzvot. As punishment, the next verse informs, "You shall have to serve your enemies whom God will let loose against you… " Such an attitude towards the Torah constitutes a breach of the covenant, warranting Benei Yisrael's subjugation to a much different form of slavery.

A much different approach is suggested by the Rebbe of Kotzk (in his second explanation; we will iy"H discuss his first approach tomorrow). This explanation understands the "joy and gladness" as the good feeling and happiness with which one must observe mitzvot. If so, then our original question returns: why do Benei Yisrael deserve such harsh punishment for merely their lack of enthusiasm while observing God's commands? The Kotzker Rebbe answers that the lack of excitement itself does not warrant the pain and suffering described in the parasha; the ramifications of this coldhearted observance do. When a person performs mitzvot by pure force of habit and rote, rather than with an emphatic desire to fulfill the Almighty's will, he ultimately comes to forget God entirely. He may meticulously observe every detail of every mitzva but miss the most central component of our religion: the service of God. Understandably, then, God warns of punishment should Benei Yisrael turn their Torah observance into a mechanical routine of conduct, rather than fervent obedience to His word. Quite simply, if we forget Him, then even when we observe His commandments, He will forget us.

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Yesterday we looked at one verse in Parashat Ki-Tavo which appears in the section called the tokhacha, the description of curses that threaten to befall Benei Yisrael upon their disobedience to God. Moshe warns that Benei Yisrael will suffer these punishments "because you did not serve the Lord your God in joy and gladness, out of the abundance of everything." As we saw, many early sources interpret this verse to mean that the lack of joy and enthusiasm itself renders the nation deserving of these misfortunes. Today we will look at two entirely different readings of the verse.

Rav Meir Simcha Ha-kohen of Dvinsk, in his "Meshekh Chokhma," offers the following reading: "Because you did not serve the Lord your God as a result of your joy and gladness, out of the abundance of everything." Benei Yisrael enjoyed prosperity and success, and this good fortune itself led them astray. While poverty and suffering present their own religious challenges, at least in one sense happiness and contentment place a more formidable obstacle before a spiritually conscious individual. Comfort and general satisfaction breed confident self-reliance and undermine one's sense of dependence on a higher force beyond his control. During times of prosperity one may forget the source of his blessings, as explicitly warned in Parashat Eikev: "When you have eaten your fill, and have built fine houses to live in, and your herds and flocks have multiplied, and your silver and gold have increased, and everything you own has prospered, beware lest your heart grow haughty and you forget the Lord your God who freed you from the land of Egypt… " (Devarim 8:12-14). In our parasha, Moshe warns that if good fortune lead the people astray, then God will in return replace the blessings with curses.

A different, perhaps homiletic interpretation is presented by the Kotzker Rebbe, in the first of his two approaches to this verse. He reads the verse as follows: "Because joyfully and gladly, you did not serve the Lord your God... " The joy and gladness thus describe the manner in which Benei Yisrael neglected their religious responsibilities. Their disobedience was not characterized by pangs of conscience and regret, a sense of grief at having failed. Moshe foresees the time when Benei Yisrael will proudly, resolutely, and joyously reject their heritage and turn their backs on their faith. This emphatic defiance will bring about the suffering described in this parasha.

In context, this last approach may prove the most convincing of all those we have seen. According to the Kotzker Rebbe, Moshe here informs the people that the devastation will surface only as a result of a brazen, shameless wave of transgressions. The implication being, of course, that occasional blunders, even intentional wrongdoing, can be excused (after the fact, obviously) when committed with a heavy, conscience-ridden heart. This idea could serve for us as a remarkable source of strength and encouragement during this critical - and frightening - time of year. Many of our mistakes throughout the previous year were accompanied by a certain sigh of anguish - however silent - and unspoken wish that we had acted otherwise. While the doors of repentance remain open for virtually all sinners, they perhaps extend a particularly warm invitation, if you will, to those in this group. During this period of compassion and forgiveness, the Almighty grants us the opportunity to change and improve. Sincere remorse marks the critical first step towards this direction. In the days and weeks ahead, let us ensure to continue moving forward along the road of teshuva.

*****

We devoted the last two editions of "S.A.L.T." to the concept of serving God with joy and gladness, focusing our discussion on a verse in Parasha Ki-Tavo attributing Benei Yisrael's punishment to their failure in this regard: "Because you did not serve the Lord your God with joy and gladness." The value of "simcha" (joy) arises earlier in this parasha, as well, in the concluding verse of the Torah's discussion of "bikkurim" (the first fruits brought by the farmer to the kohen): "And you shall rejoice in all the goodness that the Lord your God has bestowed upon you and your household" (Devarim 26:11). How are we to understand this verse in the context of bikkurim? Why does the Torah call upon us to rejoice in our blessings while or after performing the mitzva of bikkurim?

Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson (Divrei Shaul, Mahadura Telita'a) offers a beautiful explanation, by which the verse succinctly captures the very purpose of this mitzva. As the Torah describes, the farmer presenting his first fruits in the Temple must recite a brief overview of Jewish history as dictated in the Torah. He begins with Yaakov's family's move to Egypt and continues with the story of the bondage and redemption. Finally, he recalls God's having granted our nation the land of Canaan from which these first fruits were produced.

As Rav Yosef Shaul explains, this mitzva serves to provide the individual with a sense of perspective by which he looks beyond the labor and toil invested in his farm. The mitzva of bikkurim helps the farmer look upon his agricultural enterprise as an integral - if small - part of the unique history and mission of Kelal Yisrael. By human nature, regular exposure to a given blessing dilutes the sense of excitement and appreciation for that blessing. The Torah addresses this problem by issuing the commandment of bikkurim, which brings the individual a step back, to a point from where he can gain the proper perspective and sense of appreciation for the goodness bestowed upon him. The hardship and burden of tilling the land thus becomes a source of great celebration and joy.

This same notion can be applied to the verse we have discussed the last two days. Joy and enthusiasm in the performance of mitzvot can be achieved only through this "birds'-eye" perspective, the ability to look beyond the grueling and detailed demands of halakha while not compromising one iota in our involvement therein. When engaging in the necessary and characteristic "nitty-gritty" of Jewish law, it becomes difficult to appreciate the great privilege this involves, of meticulously fulfilling the divine will. Like the in the times of the Mikdash, we, too, must at times step back and make a general assessment of our religious life. This will greatly enhance our level of genuine "simcha" as we engage in Torah and mitzvot.

*****

Today we will continue yesterday's discussion of the Torah's conclusion to its presentation of the mitzva of bikkurim: "You shall rejoice in all the goodness that the Lord your God has bestowed upon you and your household" (Devarim 26:11). As we saw, Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson understood this verse not as a commandment but rather as the very purpose behind this mitzva: to provide the farmer with a sense of perspective on his agricultural toil, that he appreciate and rejoice in the great gift he has received, rather than focusing on the hardship and painstaking labor involved.

Others, however, have interpreted this verse as an imperative, calling upon the individual to rejoice. According to a homiletic approach cited in the name of the Tiferet Shelomo, the verse also specifies how this is to be done: "… that the Lord your God has bestowed upon you." A person must constantly remember that everything he has came to him as a gift directly from the Master of the world. Upon arriving at this realization, one will naturally experience a sense of "simcha" (joy). We may draw an analogy to the concept of celebrity autographs. Not only will fans spend hours on line waiting for the slight chance of receiving their hero's autograph, but those fortunate enough to have their paper scribbled upon will cherish it for many years to come. The Torah here bids us to view everything we have as bearing the autograph of the King of kings. All our possessions, good health, friends, relatives and anything else that brings us joy and satisfaction in life, including life itself, come to us as a gift from God. As the Tiferet Shelomo explains, herein lies the key to fulfilling the dictim, "You shall rejoice in all the Lord your God has given you." "All" He has given us, down to the last item, must be viewed in this light. Given the esteemed stature of our Benefactor, how can we not rejoice in all we have been given?

Rav Mordekhai Gifter explained this verse slightly differently, as a specific warning to the farmer after a successful yield. As joyous as he may be upon seeing the fruits of his toil (literally), human nature may lead the farmer to wish for more. "One who loves money will not be satisfied with money" (Kohelet 5:9). The Torah therefore urges the farmer not to succumb to this natural tendency but rather generate a sincere feeling of contentment and gratification over God's blessing.

This second approach may help us better understand the conclusion of this verse: "… you, the levi and the foreigner in your midst." In the context of rejoicing over "the goodness" that God has bestowed upon the individual, the Torah adds a reminder to show concern for the needy. Giving generally requires this feeling of contentment we described. One who always looks for more and always feels underprivileged himself will not easily give of his own means to others. Only the individual who feels satisfied with what he has will willingly help those without cause for such satisfaction. Thus, the joy spoken of in the beginning of the verse directly leads to the charitable activities with which the verse concludes.

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Parashat Ki-Tavo describes the ceremony of "blessings and curses" that Benei Yisrael were instructed to conduct upon entry into Eretz Yisrael. This ceremony entailed the levi'im's declaration of a series of blessings and curses. The final curse reads, "Cursed is the man who does not uphold the words of this Torah to perform it" (27:26). Somewhat surprisingly, the Yerushalmi (Sota 7:4) interprets the word "uphold" in its most literal sense: physically holding up. It thus asks, "Is there a Torah that falls?!" The Yerushalmi cites several explanations of the verse, including a particularly obscure comment of Rabbi Shimon Ben Yakim: "this refers to the chazan." The Ramban, in his commentary on our parasha, offers a startling interpretation of this remark: "It seems to me [that this speaks of] the chazan who does not lift the Sefer Torah to the congregation to show the appearance of its writing to all… " In other words, this "curse" refers to the "magbi'a," the one called upon the lift the Torah scroll to show it to the congregation, and does so inadequately.

Somewhat mitigating the shock effect of these comments is an eighteenth-century source that undermines even the practical ramifications of this "curse" as understood by the Ramban. Rav Chayim Yosef David Azulai (Shiyurei Berakha, 134:2) cites a responsum penned by Rav Yechezkel Traboto in reference to a certain congregation which did not follow the custom of lifting the Sefer Torah. Many objected to this practice on the basis of the aforementioned Yerushalmi and Ramban. The author, however, defended the congregation, claiming that no prohibition is involved whatsoever in neglecting to lift the scroll. He goes so far as to claim that even the Ramban himself never intended to establish an outright halakhic obligation in this regard. He rather found a subtle allusion in the Biblical text ("asmakhta") for the value of showing the scroll to all those present in the synagogue. He then adds that the congregation in question may have adopted this practice out of concern for the possibility of the Sefer Torah falling to the ground.

Although certainly the widespread custom is to raise the Sefer Torah for all to see, this concern mentioned, of a scroll falling in the process, has found expression in practical halakha. Rav Efrayim Zalman Margaliyot composed an important work on the laws of Torah reading entitled "Sha'arei Efrayim," in which he includes the halakhot and customs relevant to "hagbeha" (lifting the Sefer Torah). He writes that some have the practice of raising the Torah while it is still closed. Only once the "magbi'a" has lifted the Torah in the air does he, according to this custom, open the scroll to show its content to the congregation. Rav Magaliyot adds, however, that one who does not trust his strength in this regard, and fears that he may lose his grip by following this procedure, should open the scroll while the Torah still lies on the table and only thereafter lift it in the air. He likewise observes the common practice of performing a special "hagbeha" on Simchat Torah. The "magbi'a" crosses his hands when taking hold of the Sefer Torah and then reverses them once he has lifted it into the air. The inside of the Torah thus faces outward towards the congregation, a demonstration of particular love for the Torah appropriate for Simchat Torah. Here, too, Rav Margaliyot advises people to exercise caution. He suggests that one should lift the Torah in this manner only if he is particularly strong or of the scroll is not particularly heavy. This concern may also affect the amount of text the "magbi'a" must show the congregation. The Magen Avraham suggests that he must open the Torah scroll enough to expose three full columns of text, but the Mishna Berura writes that this depends on his strength. The "magbi'a" should open the Torah as wide as he can while still ensuring to avoid dropping the scroll.

Another important halakha requires the "magbi'a" to see to it that a seam connecting two parchments is situated in the middle of the area exposed. Thus, before lifting the Torah, he should roll it until he has a seam in the middle of the text in front of him. This way, in the event that the Torah rips as a result of the opposing pressure exerted on the two ends, it will tear along the seam, allowing for easy repair.

(Sources taken from "Torah La-da'at," vol. 2, pp.448-449)

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Towards the end of Parashat Ki-Tavo we encounter among the more perplexing verses in Chumash: "You have seen all that God did before your very eyes in the land of Egypt, to Pharaoh and to all his courtiers and to his whole country… Yet to this day God has not given you a heart to know or eyes to see or ears to hear" (29:1,3). What does Moshe mean by this rather bold a, that Benei Yisrael lacked the heart to understand etc. until that very day? What did the people recognize or appreciate at this point, at the conclusion of their forty-year journey, that they had not earlier?

The Melekhet Machshevet (Rav Moshe Chefetz, 16^th century, Italy; cited in Nechama Leibowitz's Studies) explains that Benei Yisrael could appreciate the wonders and miracles performed on their behalf only after the fact, once they prepare to settle and build a country through primarily natural means. Their retrospective assessment of the wilderness experience takes on an entirely new dimension particularly at this point, when they stand on the brink of conquering and establishing their homeland. Rav Chefetz writes: "We do not appreciate them [miracles] until they are far away from us, since familiarity breeds contempt and they are regarded as natural and not supernatural phenomena." Thus, only at the conclusion of the forty-year period could Benei Yisrael be considered as possessing the necessary tools to properly appreciate what God has done for them over the previous several decades.

In a slightly different vein, though following the same general theme, Rav Meir Simcha Ha-Kohen of Dvinsk (the "Meshekh Chokhma") attributes Benei Yisrael's newfound understanding to Moshe's passing on this day. (Chazal write that Moshe Rabbeinu died on the same day on which he delivered this final monologue.) Throughout their leader's lifetime, Benei Yisrael saw Moshe as the source of the wonders and miracles from which they benefited. Only now, when they have come to realize that he will soon depart from this world, does the nation understand that God alone takes credit for everything they experienced. According to this approach, too, Benei Yisrael's retrospective vision proves clearer and more precise than their earlier frame of reference. (For more on this topic, see Nechama Leibowitz's Studies.)

It has been suggested that the unique nature of this month, the month of Elul, evolves from this very concept. On Rosh Hashana we begin a new year and, hopefully, a new chapter in our religious lives. In order for us to recognize the changes we need to implement towards that end, it is necessary to first bring the current year to a close. We accomplish this - hopefully - through the month of Elul. On this twelfth month of the year (thirteenth in a leap year), we turn around to look upon the previous eleven and, with the perspective that only retroactive hindsight can provide, we take inventory and make, to the best of our abilities, a precise assessment. During the year itself, we do not have the "heart to understand, eyes to see or ears to hear." Only at the very end, as we bring the current year to a close, can we accurately pass judgment on ourselves and our year, in hope that our pledges for the coming year will earn us a favorable judgment in the eyes of the Supreme Judge.

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This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds.

MakeJewish learning partof your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual Beit Midrash

(c) YeshivHar EtzioAll rights reserved to Yeshivat Har Etzion

Yeshivat Har Et
Alon Shvut, Israel, 90433
office@etzion.org.il