Our Parsha begins with the mitzva of Bikkurim, the first fruits that farmers brought to Jerusalem each year. This ritual was rife with pomp and circumstance. The farmers would often bring the fruit in silver baskets, and as they paraded through towns en route to the Temple, shopkeepers would come out and stand in their honor as they passed.
There is also a specialized recitation to be made with specific declarations which must accompany the offering. At the beginning of the Parsha, we are told what this entails. A closer look brings up an amazing insight. When the farmer first approaches the Kohain, he says, (26:3) “I declare to your G-d that I have come to the land He promised our forefathers to give to us.” Whose G-d is it? The Kohain’s. A few verses later, however, (26:14) the man says, “I have listened to the voice of Hashem, my G-d, and I have done all you commanded me.” Now whose G-d is He? What changed?
When the man began his speech, He told the Kohain that he had received the gift Hashem promised his forefathers. He had done nothing special so he could not at this point declare that it was “his” G-d.
The later verses refer to another time, when the man comes to Jerusalem for Pesach on the fourth year, when he has finished separating all the tithes of the third year, giving to the Levi, the orphan, the widow and the stranger. For this declaration, the man can say, “my G-d,” because through his actions he has shown that he desires to follow the will of Hashem, and emulate Him by caring for others.
When he was just a taker, he didn’t have “his” G-d. Once he became a giver, he began to possess his own relationship with the Creator, Who is the greatest giver of all.
The Tochacha, the list of terrifying warnings of what will befall our people if we do not fulfill the Torah, initially begins as a mirror-image of the blessings. Where one keeping the Torah will be blessed in the city and blessed in the field, one who forsakes it will be cursed in the city and cursed in the field.
But then it seems to spiral out of control. The curses keep coming and no less than 98 of them are described. Why the uneven proportion of bad to good?
In truth, Hashem’s attribute of reward is 500 times greater than His punishment. This is learned from the fact that he punishes up to four generations, but repays kindness for two thousand generations.
Why does it not seem that way? First of all, curses, bad luck, and pain are much more noticeable than blessing. When things are tough, every little thing adds more fuel to the fire. When things are good, though, we are less likely to notice the subtle goodness which is no less a bracha. If we look for it, we will find myriad blessings in our lives.
Secondly, blessing only remains when it is modestly hidden and not waved about and shown off. Therefore, the Torah limits the blessings mentioned, to remind us not to be ostentatious. If we focus on Hashem and His beneficence, instead of what the people around us think, we should find more and more blessing in our lives and be able to sidestep the curses.
...And the only way to behave like that is to refine ourselves through Torah and Mitzvos.
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Ki Savo 5783
