Divrei Ki Savo
First Fruits
The mitzvoh of bikkurim occupies a unique place in the Taryag system. Certainly, Chazal assign it a pivotal status. The Midrash states, “’Breishis Barah Elokim’ – ‘Reishis’ refers to bikkurim. . . . For the future merit we would earn from bringing bikkurim, the world itself was created.” The Sifri tells us that Hashem brought the Jewish people in Eretz Yisroel, in order that they could perform bikkurim.
Furthermore, the laws of bikkurim attest to its importance. No other mitzvoh carries with it a verbal vidui which so eloquently states our relationship with Hashem, that Chazal built the Pesach Haggadah upon four of its verses. Furthermore, the verse tells us, “And you shall be glad with all the goodness that Hashem, your G-d, has given you (Devarim 26:11), which Chazal explain to teach us that this vidui can only be said in a time of simchah. What’s more, the Mishnah in Bikkurim (Perak 3) tells us that those bringing bikkurim would make sure to travel as a festive group, singing and dancing. When they approached Yerushalayim, important people would leave the city to greet them; and as they made their way to Har HaBayis, craftsmen would stop their own work and stand up for them in respect. These are enormous kibbudim, not found in any other mitzvoh. What is Hashem telling us?
The Slonimer Rav gives one explanation. Imagine a farmer. Every day, dawn to dusk, frost or heat, he’s in his field, plowing, planting, pruning, pest-killing, etc. After months of back-breaking toil, he notices one day – a fruit! The giddy gladness of that moment cannot be described. Chazal tell us that agriculture – bringing life from the ground -- can intoxicate. For example, when Noah and his family left the tevah, an utterly desolate world confronted them. Not only had the water of the mabul drowned all living creatures, it had dissolved them as well. We cannot imagine their initial dismay, nor Noah’s intense joy from seeing the first grapes growing in his vineyard. His drunkenness came not only from the wine, but from the ecstasy of seeing a world renewed.
(There is nothing new under the sun. It often happens that a suburban homeowner decides to fill in several of his lawn’s larger bare patches, using one of those seed-mulch combinations laced with so much fertilizer that if one were to pour some on his own head and stand still long enough, grass would probably come out. When a few tiny blades pushed their way through the earth, he feels such a thrill that he runs back to the home center and enthusiastically buys more bags for the small spots, as well!)
In any case, our farmer’s first overwhelming instinct urges him to pick that tiny (yet beloved) fruit and pop it into his mouth. Instead, he controls himself. Pulling out a string, he ties it around the fruit, declares it bikkurim, and prepares to bring it to Yerushalayim.
That small act of self-control is the reason that Hashem created us. Chazal tell us that Hashem desires to dwell in this world, the lowest of all the infinite universes, because here is the sole place that free will can be exercised. Gigantic malachim may stand on high and praise Him in ways unfathomable to us, but our seemingly insignificant, yet deliberate, choices of loyalty bring Him the true pleasure.
The extra word “the ground” (26:2) points to yet another facet of this great mitzvoh – the power that comes from its physicality. The Chassid Ya’avetz, an escapee from the Spanish Inquisition, wrote a commentary on Pirkei Avos. In it (3:25), he explained that the more physical a mitzvoh, the more potential spirituality is locked inside it. In other words, take a snowy Shabbos morning. Chilled and hungry from the walk home from shul, you begin your seudah. A bowl of hot, fresh cholent is placed in front of you. If you can manage to say, “L’kovod Shabbos kodesh” (and mean it) before that first delicious spoonful, you have accomplished an act that dwarfs those of the greatest malachim.
May we all be zochim to
spiritualize our physical deeds and bring great nachas ruach to our Father, the
A-mighty.