Parashat Ki Tavo
“All true language is incomprehensible, like the chatter of a beggar’s teeth.”
-Antonin Artaud
This week’s reading, Ki Tavo, describes the pilgrimage to Jerusalem to offer bikkurim, the first fruits of the season, starting on the Festival of Shavuot. The Mishna (Bikkurim 3:3) teaches that people would come from far and wide, accompanied by a marching band of musicians. The pageantry would increase as the procession arrived in Jerusalem with the dignitaries coming out to meet them, to the cries of “Brothers, Shalom!”. The mitzvah of bikkurim consists of two parts; the bringing of the fruits themselves, and a verbal declaration.
First, the pilgrims stretch out their baskets and announce their arrival:
And you shall come to the kohen who will be serving] in those days, and say to him, ” Higad’ti, I declare this day to the Lord, your G-d, that I have come to the land which the Lord swore to our forefathers to give us.” (Deut. 26:3)
The word higad’ti is from the same root word as haggadah, the classic wine stained manual for Passover fun. In fact, the commandment to tell the story of the Exodus from Egypt states, “v’higad’ta l’vincha….and you shall tell your son…” (Ex. 13:8)
The kohen takes the offering, and the owner begins to speak.
But, not just any declaration…. the Torah actually provides a script!
And you shall call out and say before the Lord, your God, “An Aramean sought to destroy my forefather, and he went down to Egypt and sojourned there with a small number of people, and there, he became a great, mighty, and numerous nation. And the Egyptians treated us cruelly and afflicted us, and they imposed hard labor upon us. So we cried out to the Lord, G-d of our fathers, and the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. And the Lord brought us out from Egypt with a strong hand and with an outstretched arm, with great awe, and with signs and wonders. And He brought us to this place, and He gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. And now, behold, I have brought the first of the fruit of the ground which you, O Lord, have given to me….. (Deut. 26:5-10)
Sound familiar? This is the main content of the Maggid section of the Passover Haggadah! This same speech informs both roles.
Why the theatrical presentation? Why do we need a script to do this mitzvah?
Our sages were well aware of the power of theater to enhance our most basic identity, that we represent a nation redeemed from servitude by G-d. That idea permeates our prayer, and is highlighted during passover. Since bikkurim and the seder share the same higad’ti/higad’ta/haggadah connection, we can extend our understanding of bikkurim based on how our tradition views the seder.
The Rambam reveals his hand by a subtle one letter change in his version of the haggadah. Instead of the traditional language, “In every generation one should see himself— l’re’ot et atzmo—as if he had been liberated from Egypt”, the Rambam gives us, “one should show himself—l’har’ot et atzmo”, implying some action is required. (Hilkhot Chametz u-Matzah 7:6).
Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, in his annotations to the haggadah, wrote:
“L’re’ot means to experience, to feel, to re-experience the slavery and the Exodus. It should not be an ancient event, lying at the dawn of our history and having no relevance for us. I am to re-experience it. Memory, in Judaism, means not just to remember technically, but also to relive the event. L’har’ot adds another dimension: the re-experiencing should be so dynamic and so intense that it breaks through and somehow expresses itself in action. If we are overpowered by an emotion, we cannot suppress it; we cannot control ourselves. We will sing and dance; we will cry and shout; we will shed tears and embrace people. The experience of Yezi’at Mizrayim on the night of Pesach should be so overpowering, so overwhelming, that we should act it out.”
Other esteemed rabbis have written about parading around the room, uprooting the table, pouring water on the floor, and other unusual behaviors to create a sense of drama out of ritual.
“The theater, which is in no thing, but makes use of everything — gestures, sounds, words, screams, light, darkness — rediscovers itself at precisely the point where the mind requires a language to express its manifestations. To break through language in order to touch life is to create or recreate the theatre.”
-Antonin Artaud
The first fruits are the symbols of potential. Unlike the harvest, where we celebrate the bounty G-d has bestowed upon us, the bikkurim hint at what is to come. They represent the potential of G-d’s gifts. But what if our first fruits are not so inspiring? What if our faith is hindered by the stress of day to day living? Like the bikkurim, we are works in progress. We need help to keep our relationship with our significant other (yes, the OTHER significant other!) on track.
The Torah recognizes the power of words, of theater, of emotion, of pageantry, to help us rekindle our relationship with our creator, with jubilation. By taking on the role, and embracing the script, we gain the awareness that we are living proof of our forefathers’ covenant with G-d, and we will come to feel the joy promised us in our parasha:
“Then, you shall rejoice with all the good that the Lord, your God, has granted you and your household you, the Levite, and the stranger who is among you.” (Deut 26:11)
The Midrash Tanchuma on our parasha cites the 6th verse from Psalm 95, “Let us come and prostrate ourselves and bow, and let us kneel before G-d, our maker.” The midrash asks, “why does the verse have three words that mean almost the same thing: prostrate, bow, kneel? The midrash answers that Moshe prophetically saw the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, and the forfeiture of the opportunity to bring bikkurim. So, says the midrash, Moshe instituted the three daily prayer offerings, because prayer is cherished by our creator even more than mitzvot and sacrificial offerings.
Our sages have established a script for our daily prayers as well, to help us focus our minds to our spiritual goals. Although an individual could express his or herself in their own words, the power of group prayer is a formidable experience. Like the chorus in classical theater, the sound and energy of group response can create an excitement that can overcome any momentary lack of confidence in the power of prayer. This is the theater of the heart, the magic of words. Humans are the only creatures to have received this gift of words, the very power that created yesh m’ayin, something from nothing. As we say every morning in the opening words of our prayers, “Blessed is He who spoke, and the world came into being”
Writes the French philosopher and mathematician Pascal, of the power of theater, “….it creates a representation so natural and so subtle of human passions that it excites and engenders them in our heart.”
Although communal prayer is a group production, the most dramatic moments are perhaps when we are alone with our thoughts, hearkening back to the bikkurim. The mishna (Bikkurim 2:2) tells us that the bikkurim must be accompanied by a vidui, a confession . We saw the script earlier, “And now, behold, I have brought the first of the fruit of the ground which you, O Lord, have given to me….” (Deut 26:10)
What are we confessing? That no matter how much we think of ourselves and our accomplishments, it is only by the will of G-d that seeds turn into our sustenance, that potential turns into fulfillment.
In a short while we will begin our recitation of S’lichot, the penitential supplications framing the 13 attributes of G-d that are key to our spiritual cleansing, the theme of the days of awe, and again we will offer our vidui. The work must start now, as we dig deep, to filter out impediments to growth.
May our potential be realized, and may we emerge from Yom Kippur ready to revel in the spiritual harvest that awaits, as we celebrate our bounty on Sukkot.
“Then, you shall rejoice with all the good that the Lord, your God, has granted you and your household…”
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Greg
