Ki Tavo' (Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8) and Haftarah (Isaiah 60:1-22): The JPS B'nai Mitzvah Torah Commentary
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Ki Tavo' (Deuteronomy 26:1-29:8) and Haftarah (Isaiah 60:1-22): The JPS B'nai Mitzvah Torah Commentary
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Overview
The complete set of weekly portions is available in Rabbi Jeffrey K. Salkin’s book The JPS B’nai Mitzvah Torah Commentary (JPS, 2017).
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780827617414 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | The Jewish Publication Society |
| Publication date: | 12/01/2018 |
| Series: | JPS Study Bible |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 24 |
| File size: | 1 MB |
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Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The Torah
Ki Tavo': Deuteronomy 26:1–29:8
Parashat Ki Tavo' continues the theme of social justice that is such a major part of Deuteronomy. It describes three rituals that Israelites, both as individuals and as an entire community, had to perform upon entrance into the Land of Israel. Each of those rituals expresses gratitude at having arrived in the land, but they tie that gratitude to a sense of memory — of where the Israelites have come from, and the circumstances that have produced their history.
The Torah portion ends with a ghastly passage: a list of the catastrophes that would befall the Jewish people if they failed to abide by the covenant.
Summary
• An Israelite must present his or her first fruits from the harvest, put them in a basket, and place it on the altar. He or she must then recite an autobiographical statement, which recounts Israelite history up to that point, and in which the Israelite fully identifies with the experience of slavery in Egypt and in being freed from slavery. This ceremony is known as vidui bikkurim (the confession or proclamation of the first fruits) and was originally performed on the ancient Chag ha-Bikkurim (The festival of the first fruits), which was the original version of the festival that we know as Shavuot. This whole passage forms the core of the narrative in the Passover Haggadah. (26:1–11)
• A second ritual: every third year, Israelites must set aside the tithe (ten percent) of their yield, and they must give it to the Levite, the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow. (26:12–15)
• A third ritual: this time to mark the Israelites' eventual entry into the Land of Israel. The Israelites divide up into their individual tribes and stand on two facing mountains — Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal. They recite a list of things that are to be prohibited and therefore cursed, which is followed by the blessings that will occur if those prohibitions are observed. (27:11–28:14)
• Now comes one of the worst (if not the worst) passages in the entire Torah: Moses tells the Israelites exactly what will happen to them if they fail to live by the covenant with God. The punishments include exile, pestilence, illness, starvation, blight, mildew, a lack of rain, defeat by Israel's enemies, total despair, and madness. It only gets worse. It is not pretty. (28:15–68)
The Big Ideas
• To be Jewish means to locate yourself within the larger Jewish story. In many ways, wherever Jews go and whatever Jews do, the past walks with them. For that reason, the text of the vidui bikkurim forms the central part of the Passover Haggadah. It is the story of a people who have been liberated from slavery and allowed to celebrate in freedom. To quote the Jewish poet A. M. Klein: "generations look through our eyes."
• When Jews celebrate, they must remember those who are less fortunate. The passage from Deuteronomy imagines that the Israelites who tithe have already become prosperous. The tithe reminds us that Jews must give to the most vulnerable in society. While it would be great to imagine a society without those who are poor and on the fringes, the Torah is very realistic about how society works. Such people will always be with us, and therefore we will always have responsibilities to them.
• Actions have consequences. This is one of the most important things that people learn as they grow into maturity, and this is what the ancient Israelites had to learn as well. If you do bad things, bad stuff will happen. If you do good things, good stuff will happen. It is interesting to note that the list of prohibitions in this Torah portion consists of sins that are mainly committed in private, which reminds us that everything we do is part of our moral and spiritual makeup. Moreover, while some laws contained in the list can be found elsewhere in the Torah (especially the laws about sexual behaviors), some are new — like moving a neighbor's landmark, which basically meant trespassing on someone else's property. Finally, in place of the original Ten Commandments (Exodus 20), here there are twelve — a number that reminds us of the twelve tribes of ancient Israel.
• Societies that ignore ethics will inevitably fall apart. This is a constant theme in the Torah. Noah's generation did evil; it was punished with the Flood. The people of Sodom and Gomorrah did evil; they were punished by destruction. And so it would be for the People of Israel as well — failure to observe the rules of the Torah would result in the destruction of their nation. In fact, the catastrophic things that are described in this Torah portion actually did happen to the Jewish people during the Assyrian exile (721 BCE) and the Babylonian exile (586 BCE). Many scholars, therefore, believe that these passages might have been written in the wake of that latter disaster, and represent an attempt on the part of the Jewish people to give reasons for the tragedy. If such a terrible thing happened, it must have been our fault, so let's clean up our act.
Divrei Torah
Who Are You, Really?
A rabbi in a Philadelphia suburb wants to add the following ritual to bar and bat mitzvah ceremonies at her synagogue: At the celebration after the service, each kid must take the first gifts that he or she has received, put them in a large basket, and put the basket on a centrally located table. Then, the child must go through his or her entire family history, as far as he or she knows it. For example: "My great-grandfather came from Poland, and he left there because the Jews were persecuted. He came to Philadelphia, and lived in a neighborhood called Strawberry Mansion. Then, my grandfather moved out to northeast Philadelphia. And then, my parents moved out to the Main Line. And now, I am here, and I am grateful for all that I have."
That was essentially what happened in the ancient ritual known as vidui bikkurim, the confession or proclamation of the first fruits. The Mishnah describes the joyous ceremony in which people traveled to Jerusalem: "Those who lived near Jerusalem brought fresh figs and grapes, but those from a distance brought dried figs and raisins. An ox with horns bedecked with gold and with an olive crown on its head led the way. The flute was played before them until they got close to Jerusalem. ... When they reached the Temple Mount, even King Agrippa would take the basket and place it on his shoulder and walk as far as the temple court." Why does it say "even" King Agrippa? Because even though he was a king, he still recalled his humble origins.
For the Jews, memory is key — and no biblical book mentions memory more than Deuteronomy. Memory is mentioned 169 times in the Torah (which is 13 x 13, the age of bar or bat mitzvah, squared). As the author Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi has written: "Only in Israel and nowhere else is the injunction to remember felt as a religious imperative to an entire people."
Memory carries with it a sense of obligation, not merely curiosity and nostalgia. Memory creates identity: it means locating your brief life within a larger context and within a story that gives it meaning and direction.
But, go back to the Torah text and read it again (26:5–9). It talks about the Patriarchs, and about slavery, and about entering the Land of Israel. What is missing from the sacred recitation? The revelation of Torah and the forty years of wandering in the wilderness.
Memory is selective. No history book can include everything that happened, just as no Facebook page can capture the totality of a person's life. As you get older, you will remember many things that happened. But you will also forget many things that happened. Some things you might even want to forget. After all, not everything can be important.
Just remember where you come from, who made you, who you are; and be grateful!
Are You an Aramean?
There was an old television show called The Lone Ranger. The Lone Ranger was a hero in the Old West, and he wore a mask to conceal his identity. Whenever he would leave the scene, people would ask each other: "Who was that masked man?" It is time to ask that question once again. The declaration of the first fruits begins with the Israelites saying: Arami oved avi, "My father was a fugitive Aramean" (26:5). The Rabbis were intrigued: why would the important declaration begin with that strange sentence? What does it mean? Just who was this ancestor?
The region in which the Arameans lived was ancient Mesopotamia, which was where the Jewish nation originated. Abraham was (sort of) an Aramean. So, the "fugitive Aramean" would be Abraham. Abraham's grandson Jacob also came from that region (when he sought refuge from his brother, Esau), and, as the Torah says, he certainly did come down into Egypt and he flourished there. So, the "fugitive Aramean" might also have been Jacob.
Not so fast. This passage from the Torah portion appears prominently in the Passover Haggadah. And, there, the Aramean is actually someone else: Laban — Rebecca's brother, Rachel and Leah's father, and Jacob's father-in-law. The verb oved, which means "fugitive" or "wandering," can also mean "destroy." That is how the Haggadah understands it: "Go and learn what Laban the Aramean sought to do to Jacob. Pharaoh only decreed the death of the males. Laban sought to destroy them all."
Why would the Haggadah make such a harsh statement about Laban, who was, after all, a close relative of biblical Matriarchs and a Patriarch?
Recall that when Jacob falls in love with Laban's daughter Rachel Laban tricks Jacob and gives him his older daughter, Leah, instead. Why? "It is not the practice in our place to marry off the younger before the older" (Gen. 29:26). Talk about sleazy! He tricks Jacob, and when his trick is discovered, he invokes local custom and "tradition." He doesn't care at all about Jacob's feelings, or even those of his daughter Rachel (and probably not of Leah either). Jacob must work another seven years in order to marry Rachel.
Years later, Jacob wants to take his family and leave Laban's household. They leave in the middle of the night, and Laban chases after them. Is it because he just wanted to kiss them all goodbye? Actually, no. It was because his household idols were missing and he suspects Jacob of taking them (actually, it was Rachel who stole them — check out the story in Genesis 31). Laban doesn't really care that much about his family leaving him. He's mostly concerned about his missing idols.
Laban doesn't care that much about people or relationships. And he really doesn't care that much about his family; he's only worried that someone might have taken something from him.
If Jacob thought and acted the way that Laban did, it would have shattered his family, and it would have implanted feelings of selfishness within the Jewish people. Instead, Laban's actions may have reminded Jacob of his own trickery against his brother, and spurred him to do the right thing and reconcile with Esau.
As the modern Bible teacher Nehama Leibowitz teaches: "The Jewish people had a special obligation, to remember with gratitude, that they had been delivered from a foreign soil and had been brought to their own land."
So we need to remember our Aramean origins in more ways than one: Abraham, Jacob, and Laban — the good and the bad.
Connections
• Do you know aspects of your family's history, going back beyond your grandparents? Do you know where your family is from? What do you know about them, and what could that mean to you?
• Why is it important for people to tithe — giving ten percent to charity or for a good cause that you believe in? Is that ten percent figure still practical today? What charities or causes are you passionate about?
• How have you succeeded (or not succeeded) in keeping away from bad influences?
• Why do you think that Jews have a particular fondness for (and talent for) memory?
• Do you think that gratitude is a good value? What are you most grateful for? How do you demonstrate it?
CHAPTER 2The Haftarah
Ki Tavo': Isaiah 60:1–22
As the clock ticks, and as it gets closer to Rosh Hashanah, it looks ever more likely that God will keep the divine promise and restore the Jewish people to their homeland. That is the triumphant mood of this haftarah. It is filled with images of light, which in Judaism are always synonymous with Torah, God, and hope itself.
Not only will the Jews be brought back to their land; other nations will come to serve them, and those that refuse to do so will vanish. Things will be so good for the Jews that even nature will conspire to help them; the people will no longer need either the light of the sun, or that of the moon.
The Secret of Judaism's Most Popular Song
Imagine if Judaism had a "greatest hits" list; what would be its most popular song?
The answer: Lekhah Dodi, the hymn that is sung on Erev Shabbat. There are thousands of versions of this song, and it seems that Jewish composers are writing new versions every year.
Lekhah Dodi emerged from the city of Safed, in the north of Israel. In the sixteenth century, Safed consisted of a small community of mystical seekers, most of them refugees from Spain. Many of those mystical seekers gathered around a charismatic teacher, Rabbi Isaac Luria.
Solomon ha-Levi Alkabetz was part of Luria's "club," and he was the author of Lekhah Dodi. In the song Alkabetz imagines that Shabbat is a bride — and that when Jews observe Shabbat, it is as if they actually "marry" Shabbat. The opening line and refrain is: "Come, my friend, to meet the bride; let us welcome the presence of the Sabbath." As Luria himself wrote: "I sing in hymns to enter the gates of the field of apples of holy ones. A new table we lay for her, a beautiful candelabrum sheds its light upon us. Between right and left the bride approaches in holy jewels and festive garments. ... Torment and cries are past. Now there are new faces and souls and spirits."
When Alkabetz wrote Lekhah Dodi, he freely picked verses from the prophet Second Isaiah — in particular, this week's haftarah portion: "Arise, shine, for your light has dawned; the Presence of the Lord has shone upon you!" (60:1) What's the connection between Second Isaiah's vision of redemption and Shabbat?
Here's what is happening. As we have seen, Second Isaiah is obsessed with the Jews' return to the Land of Israel, and, in particular, Jerusalem. For Jews, Jerusalem is the holiest place in the world, and Shabbat is the holiest time in the week. It all fits together. The holiness of place combines with the holiness of time — two "Shabbats" coming together. That is why the Talmud teaches: "If only Israel would observe just two Shabbatot, then they would immediately be redeemed."
For weeks, the prophet has been urging the Jews: Stop mourning for Jerusalem and the Land of Israel; it's almost time to come home! In the words of Professor Reuven Kimmelman: "The task of the singer of 'Lekhah Dodi' is to comfort the mourning city and to urge her to get up from sitting shivah. He reassures her that the original beloved bridegroom who abandoned her will be back and now it is time to ready herself for his return."
And just as mourning for Jerusalem must end, Shabbat symbolizes the temporary postponing of mourning. You can't mourn on Shabbat. In the synagogue, as the singing of Lekhah Dodi ends, it is customary for the community to welcome that week's mourners into the synagogue. The traditional greeting combines personal and national comfort: "May God comfort you, among all those who mourn for Zion and Jerusalem."
So the imminent return of the Jews from exile will be like a never-ending Shabbat. That is also how the sages described the Messianic Era, and the life to come. Hope springs eternal.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "The JPS B'nai Mitzvah Torah Commentary Ki Tavo' (Deuteronomy 26:1–29:8) Haftarah (Isaiah 60:1–22)"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Rabbi Jeffrey K. Salkin.
Excerpted by permission of UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA PRESS.
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Table of Contents
Introduction,
What Is Torah?,
And What Else? The Haftarah,
Your Mission — To Teach Torah to the Congregation,
How Do I Write a Devar Torah?,
How To Keep It from Being Boring (and You from Being Bored),
The Very Last Thing You Need to Know at This Point,
The Torah: Ki Tavo': Deuteronomy 26:1–29:8,
Summary,
The Big Ideas,
Divrei Torah,
Who Are You, Really?,
Are You an Aramean?,
Connections,
The Haftarah: Ki Tavo': Isaiah 60:1–22,
The Secret of Judaism's Most Popular Song,