The Parasha begins by ordering us the Mitzva of Bikurim: “You shall take some of every first fruit of the soil, which you harvest from the land that Hashem is giving you. You shall go to the Kohen in charge at the current time and say to him, I acknowledge this day before Hashem that I have entered the land that Hashem swore to our fathers to give to us.” Then, the landowner would proclaim a short synopsis of the Jewish history, starting with the slavery and the exodus from Egypt. The above proclamation presents some grammatical difficulties: Why is the present temp used for something that has occurred the past? “The land Hashem is giving you”, the correct temp is: “The land Hashem has given me”. The second Pasuk’s language is also difficult “the Kohen in charge at the current time”, it’s seems totally superfluous as it can only be brought to Kohanim officiating in the Beth Hamikdash at that time? Also, why is the Mitzva of Bikurim mentioned right after the Mitzva to remember to eradicate Amalek from the face of earth? What is the connection between them? Rashi explains that the intention of procedure was to show Hashem that we’re grateful for His Blessings; the land and the fruits. Thus, if that was the intention, Chazal have already instituted to say a blessing before and after eating to remind us that everything we consume belongs to Hashem and we thank Him for it. So, why are the Bikurim requiring such a lengthy and time-consuming process? The Zohar teaches than the foundation of the 10 commandments is to be grateful. One after one, each and every commandment is basically a decree not to not be ingrate toward Hashem and toward our fellows. And don’t think they could be dissociated; absolutely not! They are all part of the same body, the 10 commandments. It instruct us, that one who is ungrateful toward his fellow is surely ungrateful toward Hashem. The “ingratitude” is a cancer and a plague that should be totally eradicated, just like Amalek. Shaul had mercy on their king and did not kill him, and later we got Haman who wanted to exterminate all the Jews. That mercy was rewarded with countless loss of Jewish life through time, including the Holocaust. Ingratitude is the behavioral’s Amalek, it should be totally eradicated. Even animals are usually loyal to the hand that feeds them, which proves that this is the natural behavior. Ingratitude is unnatural! from ourselves. The Zohar added that the fundamental trait of character of the Bnei Yisrael is that they have gratitude, in contrast with Amalek, who is the epitome of ingratitude. Ingratitude leads to serious sins and the punishment is severe. This is learnt from Adam, after he sinned and ate from the forbidden fruit, his excuse was; “The wife you gave me tempted me”. Hashem told him, “Ingrate! you prayed for a wife stating that every living creature besides you had a partner, now you blame her!?” Hashem has no mercy for the ingrate and his was punished with the utmost severity. The Zohar recounts: Once Rabbi Yehoshua Ben Levi was passing by the gate of Guehinom and heart the plaints and moaning of those punished there. They were crying, “why didn’t they lend an ear to those who tried to get them on the right path?”. Rabbi Yehoshua started crying and decided to pray for them for their redemption from their terrible punishment. Thus, a Heavenly voice said, “Son of Levite, Son of Levite, go on your way and close your mouth, you are forbidden to pray for them”. This is a wake[1]up call to check ourselves if we have any shade of ungratefulness, as it’s the very source for reneging Hashem’s omnipresence. This explains the reason why the farmer was bound to this process. The fact he feels that Hashem is giving him the land, understates the level of his gratefulness. Everything belongs to Hashem, he just entrusted us with our children, our home, our livelihood, and our life. We are only passengers in the train called life, and one should not fool himself to believe that he is any more than a temporary passenger. King Solomon says [Koheles 9:11]: “I have further observed under the sun that; The race is not won by the swift, Nor the battle by the valiant; Nor is bread won by the wise, Nor wealth by the intelligent, Nor favor by the learned. For the time of mischance comes to all.” Hashem is the exclusive source of all the blessings one has. That’s the reason the farmer’s proclamation is required to be said in the present temp: “the land that Hashem is giving me”. One should thank Hashem daily in order to reach the basic gratefulness. It is not a trait of character that comes overnight, as it contrasts human behavior. Man natural penchant is to take credit for the good outcomes; if he’s rich it is because he’s smart and did the right investment, if he got a deal it is due to his intelligence to outsmart his fellow. Nothing is more untrue, as everything and anything occurs because Hashem decided so! Hereafter is a story that illustrates our point: Excitement was palpable on every street and corner as the residents of Opatow, Poland, readied themselves for the wedding of the son of their cherished leader, Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Heshel. Hoping to return their beloved Rabbi’s year-round devotion, the townspeople all sought to help in one way or another. With the wedding set to take place in the bride’s hometown, local wagon drivers believed they held a pivotal role. The Rabbi would surely hire a driver for the journey, and with the many Chassidim and extended family expected to join, the drivers reckoned dozens of wagons would be required, which they were more than happy to provide. Of course, none could overlook the tidy sum bound to end up in their pockets. So, in the weeks leading up to the wedding, the drivers began their preparations. They greased their axles and reupholstered their seats. They thought about the best places to stop, planned where to stay overnight, and carefully considered how best to tend to their horses. But two weeks before the big event, impatience soured their anticipation. The drivers waited, almost breathlessly, for the Rabbi’s invitation to discuss the journey and payment, but nothing emerged. Nor was any reason given for the delay. This sentiment was reflected in the Rabbi’s own home too, as members of his family also wondered why he hadn’t made arrangements for the journey. Puzzled as they were, no one approached the Rabbi to question him directly, preferring to occasionally hint instead. And arrangements for the journey weren’t the only thing that had stalled. None of the family— not even the groom—had clothes for the wedding. Yet, the Rabbi merely dismissed any hint of concern with a cheerful, “All in good time.” But he wasn’t oblivious. He simply lacked the necessary funds to pay for the wedding expenses. Well known for giving all he had to others, the Rabbi had not a kopek to his name, much less the requisite gifts for the bride, the journey, or clothing for his family. Still, he held tightly to his belief that trust in the Almighty, together with prayer, would engender a positive resolution. Meanwhile, time for a punctual arrival to the distant town was running out. One day passed, followed by another, as the wedding drew nearer and still the Rabbi made no plans with the wagon drivers, prompting them to act. They selected three representatives, hoping to finally cement a plan with the venerable Rabbi. “Why are you worrying?” chuckled the Rabbi. “Heaven directs everything, and there isn’t a person alive who knows what needs to happen or when.” “Rabbi,” insisted one of the drivers, “although we are simple people, we are the experts in this particular field. We have experience. And we’re telling you, unequivocally so, that even if we left tomorrow, it would be a miracle were we to arrive even a day before the wedding. Unless, of course, you intend to employ some miraculous shortcuts…” Moments after the driver finished speaking, hurried footsteps sounded from the front door. Two men had arrived, one much younger than the other. With a heavy clunk, the older man tossed a heavy pouch onto the Rabbi’s desk. “One thousand gold coins,” he announced. “One thousand gold coins?” replied the Rabbi, turning to the visitor. “What? Why? How?” Now it was the visitor’s turn to look confused. “Have you forgotten? Around 20 years ago, I came to you for a blessing for offspring. I was miserable. Hoping to perhaps bolster my favor in G-d’s eyes, I pledged then and there that on my child’s wedding day, whenever it would be, I would bring you 1,000 gold coins. “As you can see,” he gestured excitedly at the young man, “your blessing bore fruit. This week my son will marry, and I came here to fulfill my long-standing pledge.” “Bless the Almighty Who has not forsaken me,” breathed the Rabbi with relief. After the pair parted with more blessings, the Rabbi turned to the drivers, smiling widely. “Perhaps you are right. The journey is a long one, and we’re losing time. In two days, with G-d’s help, we will leave.” The minutiae of the journey, such as the number of required wagons, the stops along the route, and payment, were discussed and determined. Hands were shaken all around, and the drivers quickly left for the market to share the word with the others. The Rabbi then presented his wife with the money for the rest of the expenses. A flurry of preparations followed, and two days later the long caravan of wagons rolled out of Opatow. Only once he was seated in the jostling carriage did the Rabbi confess the reason for his unusual silence to his companions. “If the Rebbe perhaps hinted that something was wrong, we would’ve been able to raise the entire sum ourselves,” protested his loyal students. “I’m aware of that as well,” said the Rabbi. “However, as always, my trust in G-d has never failed me in a wonderful outcome.”

Rabbi Fridmann

By Rabbi Fridmann * [email protected] * 305.985.3461

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