Reciprocality/Love - Parshat Ki Tavo Drash 2025/5785

I have to say that I love this Torah portion, and not because it is Rabbi Sacks’s Bat Mitzvah portion. We’re in Parshat Ki Tavo, on page 1350, and in truth, it’s not the easiest Parsha to swallow. Nor is it action packed and filled with excitement. In fact, the large majority of it is filled with blessings and curses. Blessings if you follow the mitzvot, and curses if you turn wayward. 

But near its beginning, Moses tells the Israelites a job they have. Their job is to bring God a gift. The Torah portion introduces one of the first mitzvot that the ancient Israelites were expected to do once they were in the promised land. Their first action, after growing their first produce, is to bring that produce to the temple as a gift to God. There, they can feast and rejoice with God and with each other.

Maybe this is an odd first mitzvah. But, try putting yourself in their shoes for a second. First, this was the first produce they had cultivated in the promised land. And this was their main - if not their only - source of food. Yes, there was trade happening during that time, and they were likely reliant on their neighbors as they entered the land of Israel, but whatever they grew would have been, by far, their main source of sustenance. There were no grocery stores to go to when their kitchens got empty.

Second, at this time they would have understood that their bodies and their land were not their own. Instead, everything was owned by God. Psalm 24 says that “L’Adonai Ha’aretz Um’lo’o.” Meaning, “The earth is Adonai’s, as is everything in it.” 

Beyond that, there is the phrase “B’tzelem Elohim” - meaning that we are made in ‘the image of God.’ In modern parlance, it is often understood that because we are made ‘b’tzelem Elohim,’ in the image of God, we should treat each person as having godlike qualities. But there is an alternative understanding of this phrase. Because we are made an image of God, we - and our bodies - belong to God. In other words, we are simply borrowing our bodies before we return them at the time of our death.

So, with that understanding of the ancient world, the gift of their first fruit is an acknowledgment of the reciprocal relationship between God and ourselves. Not dissimilar from when a child paints a messy happy birthday letter to their parents, the Israelites offered up their first fruits to say: Thank you. You gave me my body. You gave me the world. So, I made this for you. I love you.

And when they give this gift, they also tell a story. The story that they tell is simple - you may know it. 

“My father was a wandering Aramean. He went down to Egypt, and our nation grew there. But the Egyptians oppressed us and forced us to do hard labor. We were miserable there, and when we cried out, You took us out with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. And You brought us to this place, flowing with milk and honey. So now, I offer You thanks with a gift of my first fruit, which You made possible for me.”

The month that we’re in, leading up to the High Holidays, has an acronym. The month is called Elul, and our ancient rabbis would say that this was a shortening of the phrase, “Ani L’dodi v’dodi Li.” - “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.” 

In any relationship that’s rooted in love, there are a million little gifts along the way. Not necessarily things that you physically give. Just ways of saying, “Hi, I see you. I’m so glad that we’re here together.” Time spent together. Phone calls on someone’s birthday. Inside jokes.

Within our relationship with God, and our relationships with other loved ones, we don’t need to solve all their problems. All we need to do is find little ways to say I love you, to give thanks.

Shabbat Shalom.