Ki Tavo
Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8
Isaiah 60:1-22
As I write these words, my bag is packed, ready to leave for the airport. I’m about to take my firstborn child to college for the first time. I opened to this week’s parashah, and I found — of course — the ceremony of the gift of the first fruits.
Many years ago I opened to this same parashah and found that the Torah’s description of offering to God the first fruits of the harvest spoke directly to what was happening in my life that week: my daughter’s second birthday celebration. I wrote a sermon about birthday parties, about gratitude and about what I had already learned from my daughter, the first and only fruit of my womb. Somehow, unbelievably, 16 years have gone by since then. And the mitzvah of bringing to God the first and best of what we have been given rings vividly true yet again.
The Torah’s directions for the gift of the first fruits has several elements. First, we are told that we will enter the land that God will give us, reaching a time of fruitfulness and blessing. Second, we are told to take of the first fruits of the land — the best, the most precious of gifts that have come into our hands, apparently through our own labor but more profoundly through Divine grace.
Third, we are to take this gift to the place that God has chosen, to give the gift back into God’s care. And finally, we are told to recite a liturgical formulation (the passage beginning “My father was a wandering Aramean”) in which we reflect on who we are, where we have come from, the community to which we belong and our connection to God.
Each of these stages of the ceremony mirrors what I and so many other parents are experiencing this week. First, we recognize that we have come to a time and place of blessing, a time to give thanks and to marvel over the extraordinary young adults that our children have become. In the second stage, we are told to take our first fruit, that which is most precious to us, and give it to God. Ultimately, these children are of God, given to us as gifts to nurture and care for, but now young people who must find their own way through life. We must give them up, give them back to the One who entrusted them to our care, hoping that life will continue to be good to them.
Third, we take our fruit on a journey, to a faraway place, chosen by God. Would that I could be as sure of God’s presence in the college town in Ohio where I will leave her this week, as the Israelites were that Jerusalem was the place of God’s choosing! I must trust that this is so.
Finally, the Torah’s ceremony includes an elaborate introduction by the person making the gift. On first glance it appears that the person must introduce himself to the Kohen who will receive the gift. But perhaps these reflections are most essential for the person’s own benefit. At these milestone moments, we must take time to reflect on who we are, where we have come from, the many people and dynamics that have brought us to this day, and the community which has shaped us. This is a time for reflection, for wonder, for gratitude. And it is a time to pause and ask, “Now that I have given my first fruit to God, to Whom it belongs, what next?”
The Midrash Tanhuma says that Moses understood that the day would come when the ceremony of the first fruits would no longer be performed, and so he instituted daily prayer in its place. The Sefat Emet says that prayer is a way of giving the first fruit of each day to God.
This is a profound response to the aching heart of the new empty-nest parent. What shall I do now that my most active child-rearing years are past? How shall I fill the space that my child’s physical presence occupied in my life? How shall I rededicate my energy in this new stage of life? The Sefat Emet’s teaching is rich with possibilities: Find a “first fruit” in every moment of every day. Dedicate it to the Holy, and give thanks.
Rabbi Amy Eilberg is a spiritual director in private practice.