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by Rav David Silverberg

Parashat Ki-Tavo begins with the mitzva of bikkurim – requiring a farmer to bring his first fruits to the Temple in Jerusalem each year. Several writers have suggested different explanations for the juxtaposition between this mitzva and the previous topic – the last mitzva mentioned in Parashat Ki-Teitzei, the obligation to remember Amalek's attack against Benei Yisrael. Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his "Yalkut Yehuda," suggests a very simple but meaningful connection between these two mitzvot. One may not make a point of remembering the hard times without expressing gratitude for the good times. As Rashi indicates in his commentary (26:3), the mitzva of bikkurim is intended as a means to express the farmer's appreciation to the Almighty for his successful yield. After mentioning the obligation to recall Amalek's unprovoked attack against Benei Yisrael, the Torah immediately reminds us that if we remember and reflect upon the persecution and suffering we have experienced, we must also make a point of appreciating the many blessings that our nation has enjoyed and continues to enjoy.

This critical message applies equally on the individual level, as well. As we begin thinking ahead towards the Yamim Noraim, we tend to focus on what we feel to be missing in our lives, the "tzoros" we confront and from which we hope to be absolved during the coming year. The mitzva of bikkurim perhaps reminds us to take some time out from these reflections on our misfortunes and consider everything for which we have to be thankful. While bringing before the Almighty our lists of requests for the coming year, it behooves to compile a different list, as well – of the many blessings He has bestowed upon us, and the many forms kindness He has shown us.

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Towards the beginning of Parashat Ki-Tavo, we read of the mitzva of "viduy ma'aserot" – the declaration one makes affirming his faithful observance of all the laws of ma'aserot - tithing. After every third and sixth year in the seven-year agricultural cycle, the farmer must give all outstanding ma'aserot and recites the declaration dictated in this parasha (26:13-15).

A brief review of the basic laws of terumot and ma'aserot helps explain why the obligation of viduy ma'aserot applies specifically after every third and sixth year. The Torah requires the farmer to give three different tithes from his produce:

1. The annual "ma'aser rishon" to a Levi (on top of his "teruma" given annually to a kohen);
2. "Ma'aser sheni," taken on the first, second, fourth and fifth years of the shemita cycle, is eaten by the farmer himself in Jerusalem;
3. "Ma'aser ani," which replaces "ma'aser sheni" on the third and sixth years, is given to the poor. (No ma'aserot at all are required during the shemita year.)

It thus turns out that one declares the "viduy ma'aser" after each year in which ma'aser ani, the tithe distributed to the poor, is given. This is what the Torah means in the introductory verse to the viduy ma'aser section: "When you have completed taking all the tithes of your grain in the third year, the year of the tithe, and have given it to the Levite, the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, that they may eat their fill in your settlements… " (26:12). One makes this declaration after the distribution of tithes in the third and sixth years, when one gives one-tenth of his produce to the underprivileged.

Viduy ma'aser is thus declaration one recites after each time he completes the full tithing cycle, after having given all three tithes. It is at this point when he can proudly affirm, "I have obeyed the Lord my God; I have done just as You commanded me" (26:14).

In probing the underlying significance of this mitzva, we might suggest the following, symbolic approach to viduy ma'aser. The three tithes required of a Jewish farmer perhaps represent three general categories of obligations the Torah casts upon a Jew. "Ma'aser rishon," which one gives to the Levi in exchange for his service in the Temple (see Bamidbar 18:24), along with the teruma given to the kohen, symbolizes one's responsibility to help support religious institutions. In Temple times, Benei Yisrael had to dedicate a percentage of their earnings to support those who worked in the Temple and served as the nations spiritual leaders and teachers. On a broader level, a Jew must allocate funds to help support Torah learning, synagogues and educational programs. Secondly, as represented by "ma'aser ani," a person bears an obligation to assist the needy in his community. Finally, one must bring "ma'aser sheni" to Jerusalem. Symbolically, this may represent a person's responsibility to himself, to establish his own, personal, direct connection to the Temple, to sanctity. One does not fulfill his obligation merely by supporting religious institutions and the poor; he must be not only a supporter, but a participant.

Only once an individual has separated all three tithes, after he has fulfilled all three obligations – towards the Torah, towards the underprivileged, and towards oneself – can he come before God and declare, "I have done just as you commanded me."

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Parashat Ki-Tavo begins with two mitzvot – bikkurim, and viduy ma'aser. Both mitzvot require a farmer to recite a formal, verbal declaration dictated by the Torah. When one brings bikkurim, or his first fruits, to the Temple, he recites a declaration briefly reviewing the history of the Exodus and Benei Yisrael's entry into Canaan. Viduy ma'aser, as we discussed yesterday, requires the farmer to verbally affirm his compliance with the laws of terumot and ma'aserot – the various gifts and tithes one must give from his produce.

The Yalkut Shimoni on this parasha alludes to a fundamental, thematic distinction between these two declarations – mikra bikkurim and viduy ma'aser. Citing Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, the Yalkut Shimoni comments, "A person speaks of his own praise in a low voice, and of his shame in a loud voice." Rabbi Shimon presumably refers to the different halakhot regarding the intonation required for these two proclamations. As Rashi notes in his commentary to 26:5, one recites mikra bikkurim in a strong, loud voice, whereas the Yerushalmi in Masekhet Ma'aser Sheni (5:5) instructs that viduy ma'aser, at least until the final verse, must be recited in a low, subdued voice.

What underlies this distinction, and what does Rabbi Shimon teach us on this basis?

The explanation lies in a close look at the different motifs of mikra bikkurim and viduy ma'aser, as well as the different auras that surround these events. Mikra bikkurim (26:3-10) emphasizes our dependence on God for the fruits of the field, for our success in our every pursuit, and for the very food we eat. It stresses the point that the fruits harvested come from the land that the Almighty has given us, and reviews the history of the Egyptian bondage and the Exodus, so as to underscore the fact that without divine assistance, we could never have achieved agricultural prosperity. From a personal standpoint, the aura of bikkurim is one of humility and submission, as the farmer proclaims his dependence on God's power and compassion.

Viduy ma'aser, by contrast, is a declaration bordering on self-adulation. The individual proudly proclaims, "I have done in accordance with all that You commanded me" (26:14) – something that we would never have allowed a human being to proclaim if the Torah had not mandated it. Here the farmer comes before God with pride and confidence and affirms his loyalty and meticulous observance of His laws.

Interestingly enough, halakha requires that specifically mikra bikkurim, the denial of independent strength and capability, be proclaimed in a loud, firm tone, whereas viduy ma'aser, the proud affirmation of loyalty, is recited softly. Rabbi Shimon thus concludes that one should speak of his own praises in a low tone, of his inadequacy in a firm, loud voice. Rabbi Shimon teaches here the proper approach towards success and achievement. Everyone has what to be proud of, and, as we may deduce from the mitzva of viduy ma'aser, we have every right to feel and even express this pride. But these feelings must be kept to a soft tone, they must not dominate our outlook and certainly not our speech. The loud tone, our primary focus, must be directed towards our "humiliation," our inherent inadequacy, our existential dependence on divine grace. The Torah allows us to declare, "I have done in accordance with all that You commanded me" – but only in a soft tone, only if it is drowned out by mikra bikkurim, our expression of helplessness and need for constant divine assistance.

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Towards the end of Parashat Ki-Tavo, Moshe makes a somewhat ambiguous comment in his address to Benei Yisrael: "You have seen all that the Lord did before your very eyes in the land of Egypt… Yet, the Lord has not given you a mind to understand or eyes to see or ears to hear until this day" (29:1,3). Rashi explains this to mean that until that day, Moshe was not fully convinced of Benei Yisrael's firm devotion to God and His Torah. On that day, Rashi writes, Moshe Rabbenu handed the Sefer Torah to the tribe of Levi, charging them with the responsibility of studying, teaching, instructing and guiding, as told in Parashat Vayelekh (end of chapter 31). Rashi records a tradition that on that day, Benei Yisrael complained to Moshe about the possible repercussions of what he just did – entrusting the Torah to a single tribe. Conceivably, at some point in the future, the tribe of Levi might deny the rest of the nation's inclusion in the Torah. Moshe was pleased with this concern expressed by Benei Yisrael, as it apparently reflected their sincere feelings of commitment to the Torah, such that they feared their possible exclusion from it.

The question arises, if Moshe indeed appreciated the nation's concern, then why did he go ahead with his plan anyway? Why did he, in fact, assign specifically to the tribe of Levi the responsibility of spiritual guidance and leadership? Didn't such a system run the risk of limiting access to the Torah to but a single tribe of Israel?

Rav Moshe Feinstein explains that as much as Moshe respected the people's concerns, he had concerns of his own. While the designation of a single tribe as Torah scholars entailed the threat of excluding the rest of the nation from Torah scholarship, the universal accessibility of Torah knowledge presents the risk of distortion and misinterpretation. Though Moshe certainly wished to encourage the people to become active participants in the process of Torah study rather than leaving it entirely to the tribe of Levi, at the same time, he feared that their participation would lead them to consider themselves authorities of equal stature with the scholars. They might take the liberty to reach their own conclusions without consultation with the scholars and arrive at their own rulings and interpretations. Moshe therefore decided to single out the tribe of Levi, so as to preserve the integrity of the Torah and avoid its distortion.

Nevertheless, as Rav Moshe adds, Moshe did take the nation's concerns into account. The Rambam famously writes towards the end of Hilkhot Shemita Ve-yovel that anybody, from any tribe, can voluntarily serve in the capacity of a Levite in terms of the responsibilities of Torah leadership. Moshe did not restrict this stature of the tribe of Levi. Once the doors have been opened to the entire nation allowing anyone so inclined to devote himself to the mastery of Torah scholarship, the claim could never be made that the other tribes were excluded from this pursuit.

This entire discussion brings to the fore the tension between academic universalism and exclusivity, a tension that takes on particular significance when dealing with Torah knowledge. We see that on the one hand, Torah knowledge is available to everyone, and is not restricted to a single class of people. On the other hand, this universal accessibility comes with a critical limitation – that the masses, however involved they may and should become in the process of Torah learning, continue to respect the authority of the Torah scholars.

*****

Parashat Ki-Tavo features the famous "tokhecha," the list of blessings and curses that Moshe promises will befall Benei Yisrael for their observance or neglect, respectively, of the mitzvot. The section containing the description of blessings begins, expectedly, with the condition for the bestowal of these blessings: "It shall be, if you obey the Lord your God, to observe and perform His commandments which I enjoin upon you this day… " (28:1). Surprisingly, however, towards the end of the section Moshe repeats this condition: "…because you will obey the commandments of the Lord your God that I enjoin upon you this day, to observe and perform" (28:13). In other words, Moshe tells Benei Yisrael: "If you obey the commandments, then God will bless you, because you will observe the commandments." Does this not sound repetitive?

Some commentators resolve this difficulty by redefining the word "ki" (generally translated as "because") in the second clause. Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his "Ha-ketav Ve-ha'kabbala," suggests that we explain the word "ki" here not as "because," but rather as "so that." Meaning, Moshe tells the people that in reward for their obedience, God will grant them the means by which they can continue performing the mitzvot and devoting themselves to the service of God. Thus, the second clause presents not the reason or cause for God's bestowal of blessing upon Am Yisrael, but rather its purpose – to enable us to continue along this same path.

The Malbim, in his commentary, also suggests a different meaning of the word "ki" in this context. Surprisingly, he claims that "ki" here means, "despite the fact that." Moshe tells the people that in spite of their observance of the mitzvot, they will nevertheless be blessed with success, peace and prosperity. The Malbim explains that on the surface, serious devotion to Torah and mitzvot appear to endanger us. If we concentrate and focus too intensively on our internal affairs, specifically, on our commitment to Torah and mitzvot, then how will we know how to deal with our enemies and anticipate and respond to their hostilities? Moshe reminds Benei Yisrael that in truth, they have nothing at all to fear. The Almighty will ensure that they will suffer no harm as a result of their compliance with the mitzvot.

A much different approach to these verses is taken by Rav Yitzchak Breuer, who arrives at a novel explanation of the two clauses describing Benei Yisrael's obedience. These verses begin with "obeying the Lord your God" or "obeying the commandments," and then mention "li-shmor ve-la'asot" (or, in the first verse, simply "li-shmor la-asot") – translated in our citations as, "to observe and perform." Rav Breuer explains "li-shmor ve-la'asot" as referring to the motive behind Benei Yisrael's obedience – meaning, that they obey the Torah for no other reason other than "li-shmor ve-la'asot" – to observe and perform. Moshe promises Benei Yisrael these blessings not for their obedience per se, but in reward for their general attitude towards the mitzvot, their perspective of the mitzvot as ends unto themselves, rather then the means of attaining wealth and prestige. The second verse, towards the end of the tokhecha, simply underscores and reinforces the point that Benei Yisrael will be rewarded not for their actual observance, but rather for their overall approach towards the commandments, as an inherently valuable pursuit, rather than merely a means to a different end.

*****

Parashat Ki-Tavo dictates the text of "mikra bikkurim" – the declaration made by a farmer when bringing his first fruits to the Temple each year. Mikra bikkurim briefly recalls the story of the Egyptian bondage, and begins with the ambiguous expression, "Arami oveid avi" (26:5). The commentators disagree as to the meaning of this phrase. Rashi, following Chazal, explains that the "Arami," or "Aramean," in this verse is Lavan, who is, indeed, referred to elsewhere in Chumash as "Lavan Ha-Arami" (see Bereishit 28:5). "Arami oveid avi" thus means, "The Aramean – Lavan – destroyed my father" – referring to Lavan's attempt to hurt Yaakov.

Ibn Ezra, however, strongly disputes this interpretation, raising two objections – one grammatical, the other contextual. Ibn Ezra's grammatical objection involves the word "oveid" as understood by Chazal. They understood this word as a verb that means "destroy." However, although the root "a.v.d." is commonly used in reference to destruction, never does it appear in this verb form, a form known as "kal." Instead, the Torah always uses this verb in the "hifil" form. Thus, we never find the word "la-avod" for "to destroy"; the word used is always "le-ha'avid." (See, for example, an instance of this word in this parasha – Devarim 28:63). Therefore, Ibn Ezra claims, "oveid" here cannot possibly mean "destroying," since this root is used in reference to destruction only in the "hifil" form.

Secondly, Ibn Ezra claims, identifying "Arami" as a reference to Lavan does not accommodate the overall context in this verse. This verse proceeds to tell about the Egyptian bondage: "He descended to Egypt and sojourned there with meager numbers." Why would we introduce this account by recalling Lavan's abuse of Yaakov? How does this mistreatment have anything to do with Yaakov's descent to Egypt?

Ibn Ezra therefore explains the verse differently, and considers Chazal's approach as a Midrashic reading, rather than the plain, simple meaning of this verse.

Later writers have come to the defense of Rashi and Chazal and attempted to show how their reading is indeed the straightforward meaning of the verse. The Maharal of Prague, in his "Gur Aryeh," claims that the grammatical issue raised by Ibn Ezra can be easily resolved based on an explanation of the word "oveid" cited by the Radak. Quoting Rabbi Yaakov Ben Elazar, the Radak explains this word as a noun, rather than a verb (and brings as a proof-text Bamidbar 24:20). Accordingly, "oveid avi" would mean "the destruction of my father." Having committed himself to the destruction of Yaakov, Lavan earned the descriptive title of "Yaakov's destruction." In contemporary, English jargon, we might perhaps translate "oveid" according to the Radak's approach as "nemesis." In any event, once we consider "oveid" a noun, rather than a verb, the difficulty raised by Ibn Ezra is easily resolved.

The Maharal further comments that we should not object to Chazal's interpretation simply on the grounds of the absence of precedent. Perhaps in Chazal's view the Torah here employs a unique form of the verb root "a.v.d."; the fact that it is normally used differently does not undermine the approach taken by Chazal.

A different grammatical defense of Chazal's approach to this verse is advanced by the early 18^th century grammarian Wolf Heidenheim (cited by Professor Nechama Leibowitz a"h, in her study sheets to this parasha, 1960). He advances the theory that in Biblical Hebrew, there exists an additional verb form used in reference to an ongoing action, as opposed to a specific, concrete, single action. He cites as a compelling example a verse in Sefer Shoftim (4:5) referring to the prophetess Devora: "Ve-hi shofeta et Yisrael ba-et ha-hi" ("And she was judging Israel at that time"). The verse speaks here not of a specific judicial proceeding over which Devora presided, but rather of a state of being, that she served in the capacity of judge. Therefore, the Tanakh does not employ the common verb form, by which it would have said "shafeta," but rather this less common form, which yields the somewhat unusual word "shofeta." Similarly, then, Chazal here understood the word "oveid" as meaning Lavan's ongoing attempt to destroy Yaakov. Ibn Ezra is quite correct that the verb "a.v.d." is never used in the "kal" form; in this verse, however, it appears not in the "kal" form, but in this different form, which the Torah employs when describing a general state of being, rather than a single action.

As for Ibn Ezra's second point of objection, that Lavan's mistreatment of Yaakov had nothing at all to do with his eventual descent to Egypt, the Maharal responds that no such connection need exist. Mikra bikkurim simply recalls our nation's humble past, beginning with the hardships endured by Yaakov and continuing with his offspring's suffering in Egypt. We have no reason, therefore, to identify any cause-and-effect relationship between these two events to justify Chazal's interpretation of the verse.

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In Parashat Ki-Tavo, Moshe instructs Benei Yisrael as to the procedures for the "blessing and curse" ceremony to be conducted at Mount Gerizim and Mount Eval after the nation's entry into Eretz Yisrael (chapter 27). This ceremony involved the proclamation by the tribe of Levi of a series of blessings and curses upon those who observe or violate a number of different basic laws. After each proclamation, the entire nation would respond "amen."

Rav Soloveitchik zt"l is cited (by Rav Herschel Shachtar in his "Eretz Ha-tzvi," p. 49) as questioning the halakhic nature of this response of "amen." Generally, the famous halakhic concept of "shomei'a ke-oneh" allows for a person to fulfill an obligation involving the recitation of a certain text by listening to another reciting that text. The most common example, perhaps, is the obligation of kiddush, which is generally recited by a single individual at the Shabbat table. The others listen, have in mind to fulfill their obligation to recite kiddush by listening to the recitation, and thereby satisfy the requirement. The Rambam explicitly rules (Hilkhot Berakhot 1:11) that one need not respond "amen" to a berakha for the "shomei'a ke-oneh" process to be effective. So long as both the listener and the one reciting intend for the recitation to fulfill the listener's obligation, the listener indeed fulfills his requirement – even without reciting "amen."

Therefore, Rav Soloveitchik asks, why did Moshe require Benei Yisrael to respond "amen" to the blessings and curses declared by the Levi'im? Why was it insufficient for them to simply listen intently to the declarations?

Rav Soloveitchik answered by establishing an important restriction on the halakha of "shomei'a ke-oneh": it applies only to personal, individual obligations. When a person bears an individual obligation with respect to a given recitation, such as kiddush, Megila reading, berakhot, and the like, then he can fulfill this obligation by listening to someone else's recitation. In some instances, however, a group of people bears a collective obligation to together recite a given text. The most classic example, perhaps, is tefila, as it was originally instituted. As the Rambam describes in Hilkhot Tefila (8:9), only the chazan would actually recite the shemoneh esrei; the rest of the congregation would simply listen and recite "amen" after each berakha. (We commemorate this original practice with the "chazarat ha-shatz" – the chazan's repetition.) The Rambam's formulation strongly implies that the congregation's response of "amen" was obligatory. Why should this be the case, given that the Rambam himself, as we saw, writes that one fulfills his obligation by listening even without responding "amen"? Rav Soloveitchik explained that beyond the personal obligation of prayer, there exists a communal obligation of prayer, what he termed "tefilat ha-tzibur" ("the congregation's prayer," as opposed to the different concept of "tefila be-tzibur"). In order for the chazan's recitation to be considered the entire congregation's collective prayer, we require a minimal level of active participation on their part in the chazan's tefila. This is accomplished through the recitation of "amen."

Rav Soloveitchik applied this concept also to the "zimun" – the group birkat ha-mazon. Originally, when three people or more ate together, not only would they join together for the zimun recitation before birkat ha-(as we do still today), but only one of them would actually recite birkat ha-mazon, as the others listened intently. The Rambam (Hilkhot Berakhot 5:2-3) appears to require the response of "amen" in this context, as well. Rav Soloveitchik explained that when three people join together for a zimun, they recite birkat ha-mazon collectively, as a group, rather than as three individuals simultaneously involved in birkat ha-mazon. Therefore, as we saw regarding shemoneh esrei, the listeners must respond with "amen" in order for the reader's recitation to qualify as the group's collective birkat ha-mazon.

It is in this light that Rav Solovetichik viewed the blessings and curses of Mount Gerizim and Mount Eval. There was no personal obligation upon each member of Benei Yisrael to make these proclamations. Instead, the nation in its entirety bore a communal obligation in this regard. Since only the Levi'im actually declared the blessings and curses, the rest of the nation had to respond "amen" in order to lend the proclamations a collective, communal quality, such that Benei Yisrael as a group could fulfill its national obligation to declare these blessings and curses.

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