In this week's parsha we read about the mitzvah of ביכורים. The Torah instructs us to bring our first fruits of the season to the Beit Hamikdash, and offer them to the Kohanim. We also learn that the people would bring the fruits in baskets.
The Sifri (300) tells us that there was a practice for the wealthy to bring their first-fruits in baskets overlaid with gold or silver, while the poor would use woven baskets. This would ostensibly show their love for the mitzvah.
The Malbim asks a question regarding this practice: We often find that the Rabbis – out of concern for the honor of every Jew – would assert their authority to regulate mitzvah standards in cases which would highlight the distinction between wealthy and poor. Such a distinction could cause embarrassment to the poor.
For example, the Gemara in Moed Katan* (27a-b) tells us that the original custom of the wealthy when burying their dead was to bury them in fancy and expensive caskets, however this caused the poor to be embarrassed. In deference to the poor, Chazal enacted that everyone must be buried in simple shrouds and caskets.
Seemingly, the practice of the rich bringing gold and silver laden baskets would also embarrass the poor. If so, why didn't Chazal regulate this custom in the same way?
Perhaps the answer lies in understanding the mitzvah of Bikkurim. The Sefer Hachinuch (Mitzvah 606) writes regarding the declaration recited when the farmer bring the fruits:
It is appropriate to stir his heart with speech and ponder that everything he has received is from the Master of the Universe…
The underlying message of Bikkurim is that everything we own, everything we create, is only through the benevolence and help of G-d.
The mitzvah of Bikkurim is the perfect expression of this message, as the mitzvah only applies to the first fruits of the harvest. Offering these particularly special fruits presents a challenge to the farmer. The investment needed to create the proper environment for growth is a painstaking process. The farmer must spend many days and months just preparing the land. Only after the land is properly fertilized can one even begin to plant. Then the farmer must keep guard to water the crops sufficiently; too much and they will be overwatered, too little and the crop will wither.
Specifically because of the immense personal investment, the mitzvah of Bikkurim forces the farmer to confront the unavoidable truth: that G-d is really the One controlling everything. The farmer is challenged to hand over the produce in which he invested his very being; in doing so, he shows that although he put in the work, in reality it was G-d who enabled it to grow.** This serves for him as a testament to his beliefs.
It is quite common for store owners to display their “first dollar earned” in a framed plaque behind the counter. For to the store owner, that dollar represents all the effort, care, and worry put into that business – and the success he achieved. The dollar, in a sense, ceases to be a mere dollar with a measurable worth; instead it is transformed into a representation of that person’s essence, and the many long hours spent toiling for success. A priceless symbol.
So too, these Bikkurim are more than crops to the farmer; they are his source of pride, an extension of himself. And in giving them over, they become a manifestation of his value system. They are elevated from their physical limitations into a supernal sacrifice to G-d. For instead of keeping it for himself, the farmer makes the ultimate personal submission, showing that G-d is the true enabler.
With this approach, we can answer our question. At the very moment the farmer feels this intense feeling of accomplishment, Bikkurim forces him to confront the challenge of personal pride. In doing so, he realizes that not only does G-d enable him to create, but all that he has and receives is decreed by G-d; therefore, whatever he has is exactly what he needs, no more and no less. This perspective helps one reach the state of שמח בחלקו – complete satisfaction with his portion. Thus, there is no need to regulate the standards of this mitzvah, as the poor man is not embarrassed of his lot, and the rich man is humbled by the blessing bestowed upon him. In this way, Bikkurim is different than other mitzvot. It does not need to be regulated because through the sacrifice that it demands, we come to recognize all the blessings in our lives, and to thank G-d for giving them to us.
Herein also lies a deeper understanding of striving to become שמח בחלקו. For not only is it a contentment with one’s financial status; it is also an overall acceptance of one’s role in life. It carries with it the implicit understanding that we all have a special task in life, and we are given specific tools to fulfill that job. The poor man has been given those tools no less than the rich man, to fulfill his unique mission. The sooner we accept this reality, the sooner happiness can follow.
This is a fitting message for Rosh Hashana, the time where we turn to the Master of the Universe הכל יכול, for all of our needs and requests, in hopes that we will be judged favorably. While we wish and pray for our specific desires, we understand that whatever we are given is in line with the unique mission. He has in mind for us, and we submit ourselves to Him to accomplish that mission.
Shabbat Shalom
*See the Gemara there for several examples of enactments Chazal based on reasons of possible embarrassment to the poor.
*According this we can answer a different question regarding the blessing we say on bread: המוציא לחם מן הארץ – “[Blessed is G-d] who brings forth bread from the land.” Seemingly the description of the blessing skips quite a few steps: Bread does not “come forth from the land” ready-made. First is the harvesting of the grain, breaking of the kernels, kneading of the dough, baking it in the oven, and then finally bread. Perhaps the message of this blessing is that although man is involved in the many stages, it is really Hashem who actually brings it forth to us. Specifically because there is so much human involvement in each stage, there is more of a need to remind ourselves who really made it.
