ORTHODOX JUDAISM

Making sense of the sedra: Ki Tavo

Are we coming or going?

This week many of us in London faced the familiar frustration of a disrupted commute due to the latest TfL Tube strike. Yet as I sat in congested road traffic, my mind turned to a very different, far more tragic kind of disruption to the morning commute, one that occurred at Jerusalem’s Ramot Junction on Wednesday. There, two terrorists opened indiscriminate fire on commuters during rush hour, killing six innocent people and wounding many more, before they were mercifully neutralised.

Perspective is a valuable and often costly gift and the juxtaposition of the two disruptions made me think about journeys.

It is no coincidence that the theme of journeys is also at the heart of the Torah readings of these weeks. Last week’s sedra began with the words ki teitzei (when you go out). This week opens with ki tavo (when you arrive). The story of our people is bound up with this rhythm of going and coming, exile and return, journeys and arrivals. Jewish life is not static – it is a mission, a constant movement towards an ultimate destination. Perhaps this is why, at the end of life’s journey, our final blessing at a levayah is: “May you now rest in peace”. Until that moment, life is always in motion, always striving to arrive.

But what does ‘arriving’ really mean in Judaism?

For the Torah, it is not about revenge, reprisal or even conquest. Ki Tavo commands us, on arrival in the Land of Israel and the cultivation of its land, to bring bikkurim, the first fruits, accompanied by a declaration of gratitude. To arrive is to give thanks, to tell the story of our journey, to affirm that we are part of something larger than ourselves: a people brought home by the hand of God.

This message feels especially poignant to me this year. My wife and I have been blessed that our own firstborn, our bikkurim, so to speak, is spending this year studying in Jerusalem, a mere fifteen-minute walk from Ramot Junction. As a parent, the proximity of terror and blessing, danger and miracle, is deeply moving. What a privilege, despite adversity, to see the Jewish people continuing to arrive in eretz Yisrael, the land of our ancestors, defying the odds and continuing the story.

The first Rashi on the Torah notes that from the very creation of the world, bereishit (in the beginning), God was waiting for reishit bikkurim: for the Jewish people to bring their first fruits in gratitude. No other offering in Judaism carries such an elaborate declaration. It is not merely produce that is being presented; it is history, destiny, and the miracle of arrival itself.

Yes, God waited two millennia to hear his people declare: “I have arrived home.” And still today, despite heartbreak, despite bloodshed, we keep on coming and arriving. Each of us adds our own chapter to this ancient journey.

And so we say, in the face of adversity: “Despite all the odds, I have come home. I have arrived.” And we will, please God, continue to do so.

is Chair of the Rabbinical Council of the United Synagogue and Senior Rabbi of Bushey United Synagogue

 

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