This Dvar Torah is dedicated in the memory of my saba Mark and savta Leah.
Parashat Ki Tavo is known for the blessings and the curses. The blessings are read out loud, while the curses are read quickly and quietly. And as we've spoken about in past weeks, so much of life really comes down to perspective, how we choose to see the world around us.
But it's fascinating that the parasha doesn't actually begin with blessings and curses. It begins with the words: "And it shall be, when you come into the land which the Lord your God gives you as an inheritance, and you possess it and dwell in it. You shall take of the first of all the fruit of the ground…" (Devarim 26:1, 2).
The very first mitzvah we're given upon entering the Land is not Shabbat, not the Temple, not even sacrifices, but the mitzvah of Bikkurim, bringing the first fruits in a basket to the Kohen and reciting the passage of Arami oved avi, telling the story of our descent to Egypt, our suffering, our cries to God, His redemption, and finally our arrival to Eretz Yisrael.
Two big questions stand out:
1. Why is Bikkurim the very first mitzvah of the Land?
2. Why not just say something beautiful about arriving in Eretz Yisrael? Why tell the painful story of Egypt and despair?
On a deeper level, the answer is that in Eretz Yisrael, even the physical is holy. Outside the Land, fruit is just fruit, you make a blessing and eat it. But in Eretz Yisrael, the entire process, planting, harvesting, distributing, giving, is infused with holiness. Even sweeping the streets of the Land has spiritual meaning.
On a more practical level, the Torah is teaching us that the first step in building a life here is gratitude. To bring the first fruits is to say: this is not my strength, this is not my success, it is a gift from Hashem. Gratitude reframes how we see everything.
And this is why we mention the suffering of Egypt as part of the declaration. Because gratitude is not just for the easy times. The true test is whether we can find meaning, and even sing praise, in the hard times too. Chazal even say that King David was almost worthy to be Mashiach, but he did not sing about the suffering of being chased by King Shaul. And yet, it was precisely those struggles that shaped David, that gave him his compassion, his depth, and his closeness to God.
It reminds me of something small but telling. Years ago in Israel, there was a famous radio voice, Ariella from the lottery. She would call people to tell them they had won: sometimes a vacation, sometimes a car, sometimes millions. Once she called a man and told him, "Congratulations, you just won a brand new Chevy!" And his response? "What, that's it?" That is perspective.
Life is filled with blessing, but the way we choose to see it determines everything. If we wake up each morning with Modeh Ani, thank you Hashem for another day, another chance, then even the smallest gifts feel like treasures. If we wake up with complaints, then nothing is ever enough.
As we approach Rosh Hashanah, the Torah is teaching us to start with gratitude, to look at life with an ayin tovah, a good eye, to speak with a lashon tovah, kind words, and to live with a lev tov, a good heart. Then we can uncover the blessing that is already hidden in our world.
May we be blessed to always see the good, to give thanks, and even to transform our struggles into songs of praise.
Shabbat Shalom Rav Shlomo