Ki Savo
In this week’s parsha we learn of the mitzva of Bikurim, a mitzva that involves marking off the first fruits that begin sprouting from the Seven Species and then bringing them to Yerushalayim as gifts to the Kohanim. The actual handing over of these fruits to the kohein was preceded by a lengthy speech about Hashem’s miraculous involvement in the formation of Klal Yisrael, culminating with His bringing us into the land that has produced these very fruits. The Jew must raise his voice when saying these words (Rashi 21:5). The Kohen and the Jew then raise up the fruits together, wave them as per the halacha, place them on the altar, and they become the property of the Kohanim.
A cursory glance at the details of this mitzva is enough to raise questions. There are numerous matnos kehuna — the kohen receives terumah, the 5 sela’im at pidyon haben, reishis hageiz, chazeh veshok and more. And yet, none of these matanos are preceded by a speech about the history of the Jewish People as in bikurim. Moreover, why should the one bringing the bikurim have to raise his voice during this speech? Is the kohein hard of hearing that he should have to scream?
Furthermore, Bikurim are brought davka at a time of simcha (between Shavuos and Sukkos); as its parsha closes (21:11): “and you shall rejoice with all the good Hashem has given you.” Throughout the year, at times not designated for simcha, the speech is omitted and the mitzva is deemed bedi’eved. As a further emphasis of the element of simcha in Bikurim, when people arrived to Yerushalayim with their first fruits, they were escorted amidst music to the Beis Hamikdash, where they were met by Levi’im singing in the Azara. Such details are found nowhere among other matnos kehuna. What is the nature of bikurim that it entails many trappings of simcha?
Rav Simcha Zissel Broideh suggests that the answer can be found in Rashi’s comment [21:3] that the bringer of bikurim announces to the kohein that he is not a kafui tova, an ingrate.
Meaning, the mitzva of bikurim comes to address a major problem suffered by almost all of humanity; namely, an unwillingness to express hakaras hatov (gratitude). Often, we feel reluctant to say thank you, and even when we say thank you, we don’t really mean it. This deep-seated but errant inclination is what the mitzva of bikurim seeks to correct.
If looked at objectively, one can only wonder: why wouldn’t a person want to say ‘thank you,’ either to Hashem, or to his fellowman?
Rav Wolbe offers two reasons: 1) At heart, many people live with the unconscious feeling that they “deserve everything.” This may be the result of our having received so many things essentially for free when we were first infants, then children, and even now as adults, leaving us with the instinctive expectation that all good things should to come to us on their own. Why thank anyone if it what I received was supposed to be mine in the first place?
2) Saying thank you implies that I am beholden to the one who helped me. No one wants to admit that he is obligated to another.
Therefore, explains Rav Broideh, Hashem gave us one mitzva to do every year that would provide us with a powerful infusion of hakaras hatov. The first thing we do with the first fruits of our harvest is to take them to Hashem as an expression of gratitude to Him for the bounty with which He has blessed us. Afterwards, he says all of the verses about Hashem’s great love to us and all the history of Klal Yisrael. Anyone whose particular crop did not cause him to feel so much hakaras hatov that year will surely get swept up by the recognition of Hashem’s constant miracles for us over the generations. He calls out the words in a loud voice so as to arouse within him a more fervent sense of hakaras hatov; this feeling will remain a part of him for much time to come.
Moreover, let the message be absorbed amidst joy, with song and flutes in the air. Saying the words “thank you” while in a bad mood, with a sour expression on one’s face, are tell-tale signs of insincerity. The timing of the mitzva of bikurim was designed to magnify its sincerity and further inculcate the message of hakaras hatov into a Jew’s heart.
Today, without the Beis Hamikdash, we do not have the mitzva of bikurim. What can we do to gain this critical midda called hakaras hatov?
Chazal placed upon us an obligation to say 100 brachos every day. If a person utilizes these opportunities, raises his voice and thinks about what he is saying, he is sure to grow inhakaras hatov.
Moreover, Midrash Tanchuma (Ki Savo 1) states that tefilla stands in place of bikurim. Each bracha of the Shemona Esrei teaches us a specific form of gratitude, culminating with the overall expression of thanks in the Modim prayer. Each bracha is a chance to pause and reflect on a certain benefit Hashem has given us and express full-hearted gratitude for it.
The above applies to our gratitude to Hashem (bein adam leMakom). As for our gratitudebein adam lechaveiro, Rav Wolbe suggest that a person train himself to express thanks to another person at least three times a day, preferably to a person we may feel does not deserve our ‘thank you’ so much. For example, saying ‘thank you’ to the grocer. Instead of viewing his motivation for supplying us with food as primarily selfish (i.e., that’s his parnassah), we view it from our perspective: “how convenient he is making life for us; were it not for the grocer, we’d have to set out far and wide to obtain the staple items that he all but brings to our doorstep!”
Even more so should we express thanks to our parents and/or spouses. Rav Wolbe goes on to say that as a marriage progresses, the only way it will hold together is through hakaras hatov. Gratitude must not be limited to something we feel inside; it must be verbalized and shared.
Once, Rav Brevda saw Harav Aharon Kotler and his wife setting out for a taxi, carrying a suitcase. He hurried over to help them and took hold of the suitcase, which he carried to the cab. As he did so, the two of them began showering upon Rav Brevda a torrent of brachos, declaring him “such a great baal chessed … I have no words to thank you with…” Even the gentiles present were taken aback by such fervent expressions of gratitude. And for what? A young man’s willingness to go a few steps out of his way to help the gadol hador.
This, concluded Rav Brevda, was the common denominator among all the gedolei Yisrael with whom he had contact. They all lived with a keen sense of hakaras hatov.
May we be zocheh to instill in ourselves the vital trait of hakaras hatov!