The parsha begins with the laws of Bikkurim. It is juxtaposed upon the previous parsha of Amalek, in which we are enjoined to blot out forever the name of our archenemy, Amalek. Is there a relationship between these two parshios? Can we glean a message from the juxtaposition? Horav Avraham Weinberg, zl, who distinguished himself as a student of the Avnei Nezer, posits that there is a serious connection between the two. In fact, Amalek battled to destroy the basic doctrine of Bikkurim.
What is the message of Bikkurim? In order to answer this basic question, Horav Weinberg addresses the reason that a ger, convert, brings Bikkurim but does not recite the accompanying ritual. This same halachah applies to one who owns a tree, but does not own land. The Torah says that in both of these cases it would appear false for him to say the ritual (hzjn treaf). Why can he not read the words, just as someone who is reading from the Torah?
Horav Weinberg responds that to permit either of these two individuals to recite the Bikkurim ritual would undermine the underlying motif of Bikkurim. Upon bringing Bikkurim, one affirms his belief in the premise that man’s “raison d’etre” on this world is to serve Hashem, to be a source of nachas to Him. Although he is currently involved in mundane earthly matters, such as preparing the earth, raising and harvesting crops, his soul is bound up in the opportunity to perform the mitzvos hatluyos ba’aretz, that are connected to the land. Thus, he is able to raise the most mundane endeavor to sublime spiritual heights.
The concept that one can serve Hashem even from the material perspective is entirely Jewish. Amalek is willing to “accept” that the members of Klal Yisrael can surround themselves in a spiritual utopia, encompassed by the Pillar of Cloud, sustained by the manna. Amalek can understand that Klal Yisrael is encamped in close proximity to the Mishkan in order to devote themselves entirely to avodas ha’kodesh, holy endeavor. To raise gashmius, materialism, to a level of ruchnius, spirituality, to literally have a “sulam mutzav artzah, v’rosho magia ha’shomaymah,” ladder standing on earth with its summit reaching Heavenward, seemed an impossibility.
This is the essence of Amalek’s relentless war with Am Yisrael. Whenever we attempt to consecrate the material, to sanctify the mundane and physical, Amalek is present, prepared to denigrate our every action. Amalek is the symbol of sheker, falsehood, and will, therefore, ferret out any vestige of insincerity in his quest to prevent our triumph over the olam ha’gashmi, world of materialism. Yaakov/Am Yisrael is the symbol of emes, truth. We must continue to demand that every aspect of our mitzvah observance be the paragon of veracity.
Thus, an individual who does not own land — or the convert who is not in the position to claim that this is “the land of our fathers” — should not recite the ritual, since it does not appear completely accurate. This slight suspicion of deceit gives Amalek a foothold in the mitzvah and renders it inacceptable.
