Here’s an experiment. Walk around the great monuments in Washington DC. There, at the far end, is the figure of Abraham Lincoln, four times larger than life-size. On the walls of the memorial are the texts of his greatest speeches. The Franklin D. Roosevelt Memorial is nearby. Its quotations from each period of his life as president are displayed there. Keep walking along the Potomac and you will come to the Jefferson Memorial, modelled on the Pantheon in Rome. There, too, you will find quotations from his great speech, the Declaration of Independence.
Now visit London. You will find many memorials and statues of great people. But you will find no quotations. The statue’s base will tell you who it represents, when he or she lived and their position or their work, but no narrative, no quotation, no memorable phrases or defining words. For instance, the statue of Winston Churchill in Parliament Square. Churchill was one of the greatest orators of all time. But no words of his are inscribed on the monument. The same applies to almost everyone else in the country.
It’s a striking difference. The American way is to tell a story on its monuments, woven from the speeches of its most outstanding leaders. The English do not. Their memorials aren’t built to tell a story. This is a profound difference between a covenant (brit) and tradition-based societies.
In a tradition-based society like England, things are done because that is how they were done. In contrast, covenant societies don’t value the past simply because it’s old. They remember a past that led to the collective determination that moved people to create society in the first place. The pilgrims of America were fleeing persecution in search of religious freedom. Their society was born in an act of moral commitment, handed on to successive generations. Covenant (brit) societies exist not because they have been there a long time, or some act of conquest, or for the sake of some economic or military advantage. They exist to honour a pledge, a moral bond, an ethical undertaking. That is why telling the story is essential to a covenant society. It reminds all citizens of why they are there.
The classic example of telling the story occurs in this week’s parsha, in the context of bringing the first-fruits to Jerusalem. Ki Tavo begins with the mitzva to retell the story of the Exodus from Egypt. We talk of forefathers, and of the journey. We tell the story and remember.
A brit always contains ways to bind its citizens in the present and future. Covenant societies are moral societies, meaning not that their members are more righteous than others but that they see themselves as publicly accountable to uphold specific ethical standards that are part of the text and texture of their national identity. They honour the obligations imposed upon them by the founders.
Covenant societies see their fate tied up with how they meet or fail to meet those obligations. “If we keep its terms, we shall flourish” – implying that if we don’t, we won’t. This is a way of thinking the West owes entirely to the book of Devarim, most famously in the second paragraph of the Shema: “If you faithfully obey the mitzvot I am giving you today . . . then I will send rain on your land in its season...”
Covenant societies are not ethnic nations bound by common racial origin. They make room for outsiders – immigrants, asylum seekers, resident aliens – who become part of the society by taking its story and making it their own, as Rut did (“Your people will be my people, and your God, my God”) or as waves of immigrants did when they came to the United States.
It is utterly astonishing that the mere act of telling the story regularly, as a religious duty, sustained Jewish identity across the centuries, even in the absence of all the normal accompaniments of nationhood – land, geographical proximity, independence, self-determination – and never allowed the people to forget its ideals, its aspirations, its collective project of building a society that would be the opposite of Egypt, a place of freedom and justice and human dignity, in which no human being is sovereign; in which God alone is King.
One of the most profound truths about the politics of covenant – the message of the first-fruits declaration in this week’s parsha – is: If you want to sustain freedom, never stop telling the story.
Around the Shabbat Table
Why is telling a story essential to a covenantal society?
Why do you think it is important to regularly tell and retell the story of a society’s origins?
Can you think of a story that is important in your own life, that you would like to share with future generations?
Parsha in Passing
The parsha begins with the mitzva of bikkurim, where Bnei Yisrael are commanded to bring the first fruits of their harvest to the Beit Hamikdash and offer a prayer of gratitude to God.
The Torah then outlines the tithes that must be separated and given to the priests, Leviim, and the poor, as well as the tithe eaten in Jerusalem.
Moshe reminds Bnei Yisrael of their covenant with God, instructing them to engrave the Torah on stones upon entering the land. He details the blessings of following God’s commandments, and the curses that will result from disobedience. Bnei Yisrael are to proclaim these blessings and curses on Har Gerizim and Eval.
The parsha concludes with Moshe reminding the people of God’s miracles, and urging them to remain faithful to the covenant as they prepare to enter the land of Israel.
Parsha People
The Farmer: I bring my first-fruits with conviction and pride, to honour God’s land where such blessings reside.
Bikkurim: We are offered to God as a gesture so pure, thanking Him for His bounty, and our future, secure.
Stones from the Yarden: We will be engraved with words to sustain, a covenant etched, words never in vain.
Leviim: Receiving tithes, for God we will live, the Aron we carry, the brachot we give.
Parsha Practical
A practical mitzva from parshat Ki Tavo is the mitzva of bikkurim (the offering of the first-fruits). This mitzva involves bringing the first-fruits of one’s harvest to the Beit Hamikdash in Jerusalem and presenting them to the Kohen. The individual then recites a declaration, recounting the story of Yetziyat Mitzrayim to enter Israel. They would express gratitude to God for the land’s bounty.
As the Beit HaMikdash no longer stands, these days we cannot make the pilgrimage to Jerusalem with our first-fruits to carry out this mitzva exactly as the Torah commands. But the idea of expressing gratitude for one’s blessings, which originates from the bikkurim acknowledging the source of those blessings, remains relevant today. As Rabbi Sacks often noted, we are taught to say a prayer of thanks called Modeh Ani every morning, before we do anything else. This also encourages a mindset of gratitude. Rabbi Sacks would say that “We thank before we think!”
What are you grateful for today?
Parsha Playoff
The Story Game is a fun way to internalise the power of a story, with a few laughs in between. Everyone sits in a circle, and one person is chosen to begin the story with a single sentence. The next player continues the story with a sentence beginning with “Fortunately...” followed by another player adding a sentence starting with “Unfortunately...” This pattern continues around the circle, creating a collaborative tale of twists and turns. Caution: This game can lead to a hilarious narrative!
Parsha Philosophy
Rabbi Sacks contrasts two types of societies: tradition-based and covenant-based. Tradition-based societies such as England preserve their customs and monuments without necessarily telling a story or explaining their significance. These societies rely on the past simply because it has always been that way. In contrast, covenant-based societies like the United States actively tell the story of their origins, rooted in a moral commitment or shared ideals. Often inscribed on monuments, these stories remind citizens of the values and pledges that define their nation.
Storytelling is essential to maintaining a society’s identity and freedom. In covenant societies, recounting the foundational story is a crucial act that binds citizens to the ethical standards set by their ancestors. Freedom is ultimately sustained by always telling the story of how the society was formed and the ideals it was built upon.
What is a favourite story from your childhood that resonates with you today?
Parsha Parable
A Family Recipe
In a quiet neighbourhood in Yerushalayim, a man named Yoni owned a small bakery. The bakery was famous for its challah, which used a recipe passed down by Yoni’s family members over many generations. Customers lined up around the block every Friday to buy the challah loaves, fluffy on the inside, golden on the outside.
One Friday morning, as Yoni was preparing the dough, his teenage daughter, Tamar, asked him, “Abba, why do we use the same old recipe every week? Can’t we try something new? Maybe we could start a whole new trend!”
Yoni chuckled and said, “Tamar, when I was your age, I asked my father the same question. Then he told me about my great-grandfather, who had started this bakery long, long ago.
“Life was much harder back then, but he baked challah every Friday, using his family’s age-old recipe. It wasn’t just about the bread; it was about the story behind it.”
Yoni continued, “Our family came to Israel with almost nothing, but they had this recipe, because they knew it by heart. It reminded them of the struggles they overcame to build a life here. Every time we bake the challah, we honour their journey, resilience, and their values. It’s more than just bread. Our story is baked into every loaf.”
Tamar listened quietly, now understanding why this family recipe meant so much. When the challah was baked and ready, Yoni handed her a warm loaf. “This challah is our first fruit,” he said. Just as Bnei Yisrael brought their first-fruits to the Beit Hamikdash, we share this bread with our community to remember where we came from, and to give thanks for all we have.”
Parsha Puzzle
Question: The Rambam wrote that the mitzvot of Hashem obligate different areas of human endeavour: a) action, b) speech, c) thought. Can you name the one mitzva that includes Torah obligations in all three areas?
Answer: The mitzva of bikkurim involves all three types. a) the action of brining the fruit to the Beit HaMikdash, b) The recitation of ‘arami oveid avi’ and c) the thought process of doing this with joy.
Parsha Ponderings
What Would You Do...
...if an intergenerational story from your family also had some dark moments? How would you convey truthful family narrative while maintaining a positive lesson for future generations?
Written as an accompaniment to Rabbi Sacks’ weekly Covenant & Conversation essay, the
Family Edition
is aimed at connecting teenagers with his ideas and thoughts on the parsha.
With thanks to the Schimmel Family for their generous sponsorship of Covenant &
Conversation, dedicated in loving memory of Harry (Chaim) Schimmel.
“I have loved the Torah of R’ Chaim Schimmel ever since I first encountered it. It
strives to be not just about truth on the surface but also its connection to a
deeper truth beneath. Together with Anna, his remarkable wife of 60 years, they
built a life dedicated to love of family, community, and Torah. An extraordinary
couple who have moved me beyond measure by the example of their lives.” — Rabbi
Sacks
The Parsha in a Nutshell This week Moshe concludes his explanation of the details of the covenant, listing commands about bringing first-fruits to the Central…
Freedom Means Telling the Story
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Freedom Means Telling the Story
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The Summary
This summary is adapted from this week’s main Covenant & Conversation essay by Rabbi Sacks.
Here’s an experiment. Walk around the great monuments in Washington DC. There, at the far end, is the figure of Abraham Lincoln, four times larger than life-size. On the walls of the memorial are the texts of his greatest speeches. The Franklin D. Roosevelt Memorial is nearby. Its quotations from each period of his life as president are displayed there. Keep walking along the Potomac and you will come to the Jefferson Memorial, modelled on the Pantheon in Rome. There, too, you will find quotations from his great speech, the Declaration of Independence.
Now visit London. You will find many memorials and statues of great people. But you will find no quotations. The statue’s base will tell you who it represents, when he or she lived and their position or their work, but no narrative, no quotation, no memorable phrases or defining words. For instance, the statue of Winston Churchill in Parliament Square. Churchill was one of the greatest orators of all time. But no words of his are inscribed on the monument. The same applies to almost everyone else in the country.
It’s a striking difference. The American way is to tell a story on its monuments, woven from the speeches of its most outstanding leaders. The English do not. Their memorials aren’t built to tell a story. This is a profound difference between a covenant (brit) and tradition-based societies.
In a tradition-based society like England, things are done because that is how they were done. In contrast, covenant societies don’t value the past simply because it’s old. They remember a past that led to the collective determination that moved people to create society in the first place. The pilgrims of America were fleeing persecution in search of religious freedom. Their society was born in an act of moral commitment, handed on to successive generations. Covenant (brit) societies exist not because they have been there a long time, or some act of conquest, or for the sake of some economic or military advantage. They exist to honour a pledge, a moral bond, an ethical undertaking. That is why telling the story is essential to a covenant society. It reminds all citizens of why they are there.
The classic example of telling the story occurs in this week’s parsha, in the context of bringing the first-fruits to Jerusalem. Ki Tavo begins with the mitzva to retell the story of the Exodus from Egypt. We talk of forefathers, and of the journey. We tell the story and remember.
A brit always contains ways to bind its citizens in the present and future. Covenant societies are moral societies, meaning not that their members are more righteous than others but that they see themselves as publicly accountable to uphold specific ethical standards that are part of the text and texture of their national identity. They honour the obligations imposed upon them by the founders.
Covenant societies see their fate tied up with how they meet or fail to meet those obligations. “If we keep its terms, we shall flourish” – implying that if we don’t, we won’t. This is a way of thinking the West owes entirely to the book of Devarim, most famously in the second paragraph of the Shema: “If you faithfully obey the mitzvot I am giving you today . . . then I will send rain on your land in its season...”
Covenant societies are not ethnic nations bound by common racial origin. They make room for outsiders – immigrants, asylum seekers, resident aliens – who become part of the society by taking its story and making it their own, as Rut did (“Your people will be my people, and your God, my God”) or as waves of immigrants did when they came to the United States.
It is utterly astonishing that the mere act of telling the story regularly, as a religious duty, sustained Jewish identity across the centuries, even in the absence of all the normal accompaniments of nationhood – land, geographical proximity, independence, self-determination – and never allowed the people to forget its ideals, its aspirations, its collective project of building a society that would be the opposite of Egypt, a place of freedom and justice and human dignity, in which no human being is sovereign; in which God alone is King.
One of the most profound truths about the politics of covenant – the message of the first-fruits declaration in this week’s parsha – is: If you want to sustain freedom, never stop telling the story.
Around the Shabbat Table
Parsha in Passing
The parsha begins with the mitzva of bikkurim, where Bnei Yisrael are commanded to bring the first fruits of their harvest to the Beit Hamikdash and offer a prayer of gratitude to God.
The Torah then outlines the tithes that must be separated and given to the priests, Leviim, and the poor, as well as the tithe eaten in Jerusalem.
Moshe reminds Bnei Yisrael of their covenant with God, instructing them to engrave the Torah on stones upon entering the land. He details the blessings of following God’s commandments, and the curses that will result from disobedience. Bnei Yisrael are to proclaim these blessings and curses on Har Gerizim and Eval.
The parsha concludes with Moshe reminding the people of God’s miracles, and urging them to remain faithful to the covenant as they prepare to enter the land of Israel.
Parsha People
The Farmer: I bring my first-fruits with conviction and pride, to honour God’s land where such blessings reside.
Bikkurim: We are offered to God as a gesture so pure, thanking Him for His bounty, and our future, secure.
Stones from the Yarden: We will be engraved with words to sustain, a covenant etched, words never in vain.
Leviim: Receiving tithes, for God we will live, the Aron we carry, the brachot we give.
Parsha Practical
A practical mitzva from parshat Ki Tavo is the mitzva of bikkurim (the offering of the first-fruits). This mitzva involves bringing the first-fruits of one’s harvest to the Beit Hamikdash in Jerusalem and presenting them to the Kohen. The individual then recites a declaration, recounting the story of Yetziyat Mitzrayim to enter Israel. They would express gratitude to God for the land’s bounty.
As the Beit HaMikdash no longer stands, these days we cannot make the pilgrimage to Jerusalem with our first-fruits to carry out this mitzva exactly as the Torah commands. But the idea of expressing gratitude for one’s blessings, which originates from the bikkurim acknowledging the source of those blessings, remains relevant today. As Rabbi Sacks often noted, we are taught to say a prayer of thanks called Modeh Ani every morning, before we do anything else. This also encourages a mindset of gratitude. Rabbi Sacks would say that “We thank before we think!”
Parsha Playoff
The Story Game is a fun way to internalise the power of a story, with a few laughs in between. Everyone sits in a circle, and one person is chosen to begin the story with a single sentence. The next player continues the story with a sentence beginning with “Fortunately...” followed by another player adding a sentence starting with “Unfortunately...” This pattern continues around the circle, creating a collaborative tale of twists and turns. Caution: This game can lead to a hilarious narrative!
Parsha Philosophy
Rabbi Sacks contrasts two types of societies: tradition-based and covenant-based. Tradition-based societies such as England preserve their customs and monuments without necessarily telling a story or explaining their significance. These societies rely on the past simply because it has always been that way. In contrast, covenant-based societies like the United States actively tell the story of their origins, rooted in a moral commitment or shared ideals. Often inscribed on monuments, these stories remind citizens of the values and pledges that define their nation.
Storytelling is essential to maintaining a society’s identity and freedom. In covenant societies, recounting the foundational story is a crucial act that binds citizens to the ethical standards set by their ancestors. Freedom is ultimately sustained by always telling the story of how the society was formed and the ideals it was built upon.
Parsha Parable
A Family Recipe
In a quiet neighbourhood in Yerushalayim, a man named Yoni owned a small bakery. The bakery was famous for its challah, which used a recipe passed down by Yoni’s family members over many generations. Customers lined up around the block every Friday to buy the challah loaves, fluffy on the inside, golden on the outside.
One Friday morning, as Yoni was preparing the dough, his teenage daughter, Tamar, asked him, “Abba, why do we use the same old recipe every week? Can’t we try something new? Maybe we could start a whole new trend!”
Yoni chuckled and said, “Tamar, when I was your age, I asked my father the same question. Then he told me about my great-grandfather, who had started this bakery long, long ago.
“Life was much harder back then, but he baked challah every Friday, using his family’s age-old recipe. It wasn’t just about the bread; it was about the story behind it.”
Yoni continued, “Our family came to Israel with almost nothing, but they had this recipe, because they knew it by heart. It reminded them of the struggles they overcame to build a life here. Every time we bake the challah, we honour their journey, resilience, and their values. It’s more than just bread. Our story is baked into every loaf.”
Tamar listened quietly, now understanding why this family recipe meant so much. When the challah was baked and ready, Yoni handed her a warm loaf. “This challah is our first fruit,” he said. Just as Bnei Yisrael brought their first-fruits to the Beit Hamikdash, we share this bread with our community to remember where we came from, and to give thanks for all we have.”
Parsha Puzzle
Question:
The Rambam wrote that the mitzvot of Hashem obligate different areas of human endeavour: a) action, b) speech, c) thought. Can you name the one mitzva that includes Torah obligations in all three areas?
The mitzva of bikkurim involves all three types. a) the action of brining the fruit to the Beit HaMikdash, b) The recitation of ‘arami oveid avi’ and c) the thought process of doing this with joy.
Parsha Ponderings
What Would You Do...
...if an intergenerational story from your family also had some dark moments? How would you convey truthful family narrative while maintaining a positive lesson for future generations?
DOWNLOAD AND PRINT THE FAMILY EDITION >
Written as an accompaniment to Rabbi Sacks’ weekly Covenant & Conversation essay, the Family Edition is aimed at connecting teenagers with his ideas and thoughts on the parsha.
With thanks to the Schimmel Family for their generous sponsorship of Covenant & Conversation, dedicated in loving memory of Harry (Chaim) Schimmel.
More on Ki Tavo
We Are What We Remember
Be Silent and Listen
A Nation of Storytellers