Ki Tavo: First Fruits and New Beginnings

Our Torah portion this week, Ki Tavo, begins with a description of an ancient ritual observed by our ancestors. Each year, the Israelites living off the land waited apprehensively, wondering if that year’s fruits and crops would grow. Without the capabilities of modern technology, there was simply no way to know. This meant that the arrival of the first fruit on the tree or the vine was a source of great wonder and a reason to mark the occasion with gratitude. 

The Israelites were commanded to collect those first fruits and place them into a basket. They would then deliver them to the place “where God will establish the divine name” —which we understand to be Jerusalem—-to the priests who worked in the Temple and recite the following blessing:

"My ancestor was a wandering Aramean, who went down to Egypt with meager numbers and sojourned there, but there he became a great and very populous nation. The Egyptians dealt harshly with us and oppressed us; they imposed heavy labor upon us. We cried out to the Eternal, our God of our ancestors, and the Eternal heard our plea and saw our plight, our misery, and our oppression. God freed us from Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with awesome power, and by signs and portents, bringing us to this place and giving us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. And now, I bring my first fruits of the soil, that same soil that You, Eternal our God, has given to me." (Deuteronomy 26:4-11)

Some of you might recognize that language from your Passover Haggadah. But in the Torah, it was the central piece of the ceremony of the first fruits in which the Israelites thanked God that the produce had arrived. They were grateful to have what to eat that year, and they prayed that this bounty would continue into the future. The music of this blessing gives recognition to God for giving the Israelites the gift of the land as well as the miraculous ability to live off it year after year. 

Now I don’t know about any of you, but I can safely say that my life contains precisely zero interaction with agriculture or the cycles of the natural world. Yes, the lovely farm box arrives at my door each Sunday and there is good produce to be found at our city’s supermarkets, but neither of these makes me a farmer or connects me to the agricultural cycle. Many of us are very far removed from the yearly cycles of planting, fertilizing, tending to, then eventually harvesting the fruits of hard labor on the land. 

But for our ancestors, this yearly journey was everything. These first fruits signaled that life would be sustained for another year. For us, the words in this week’s portion that retell our journey from slavery to freedom remind us that, as we approach a new year, we have a profound moment in which to feel gratitude for all the gifts that God has given us - from the simple joy of a piece of fruit, to the endearing contentment of being surrounded by family and friends. 

The British-American poet, Ruth Fainlight, wrote a poem about the wandering Aramean, the text quoted above:

"Nothing ever happens more than once.

The next time is never like before.

What you thought you learned doesn't apply.

Something is different. And just as real.

For which you might be thankful after all."

As we stand on the precipice of a new season and a new year, there is plenty of uncertainty. Perhaps the seeds we planted in 5785 will not bear the fruit we hoped; perhaps we did not quite meet the goals we set for ourselves;perhaps there were unexpected challenges that knocked us off course. Not all the fields we plowed and sowed will result in a bountiful harvest. 

Yet there is a gift in the knowledge that a new year approaches. Perhaps 5786 will surprise us and bring many, many good things with it. May we all be open to the possibility that this new year may bring more blessings, far beyond what we can even imagine. May our cups runneth over! 

Shabbat Shalom!