It has been a choppy week but I hope that some of you had the opportunity to enjoy the beautiful weather while we were off. I appreciated the sunshine, a picnic in the park with friends and family, and saying Kaddish at synagogue, one of three times a year when we join as a community to remember loved ones who have died. I always welcome a moment, given my over-scheduled life, to take the time for memory, quiet and often tears.
The festival of Shavuot is often referred to as “chag ha’bikkurim,” the holiday of first fruits. This name is in recognition of the season in which Shavuot is celebrated, when the new spring fruits are harvested. In ancient times Jews would take their first fruits to the Temple to express their gratitude to God. In Deuteronomy it is written, “you shall take of the first of every fruit of the ground that you bring in from your Land that your God gives you, and you shall put it in a basket and go to the place that your God, will choose…” There is much about this tradition that is foreign to us – we are New Yorkers, living in a hyper-urban setting, without the central temple of Jerusalem where people used to make a pilgrimage 3 times a year, without first fruits, and without a tradition of bringing gifts or sacrifices to God. So, “what does this tradition of Bikkurim have to do with us?” I wondered, as I sat in synagogue yesterday.
As I continued to think about the term Bikkurim, first fruits, it occurred to me that as parents in our school, you bring your first fruits to us, at the JCC Nursery School. Our young children are our first fruits – they have a very precious place in our hearts. We love these first fruits, we feel pride for these young beings, and we have poured our hopes, our dreams and so much hard work into these amazing first fruits. And for some of us, even having these first fruits involved a great deal of effort – whether it was IVF, adoption, or other difficult choices. And while we admire and appreciate our children, we also see the blemishes in our children. We may feel that these imperfections reflect on us. Have you not had the experience when your child doesn’t greet your doorman politely, or doesn’t behave nicely at a family dinner? We feel uncomfortable, wondering if their behavior reflects badly on us as parents. We so identify with our children – we look carefully at every inch, every habit, and every idiosyncrasy. And when we bring our children out into the world we want the world to appreciate and admire our children as we do. Bringing our children to school for the first time is a moment of vulnerability. We feel exposed, and sometimes we may feel judged, ignored, or misunderstood.
But as I began to imagine all of the Jewish community, travelling from throughout the region, carrying their beautiful first fruits in their baskets to the Temple in Jerusalem, it reminded me of how it sometimes feels in our common space at drop off time! For like the Israelites of long ago, we come together with our most prized possessions, sharing in the experience of gratitude for our own children, feeling admiration for our friend’s produce, and feeling the power of this larger collective.
I imagine that for the Israelites of long ago, it might not have always been easy to share their first fruits. They might have preferred to keep these harvests for themselves or for their families. Food was not always plentiful, and in the early part of a season I imagine they weren’t always sure what the rest of the season might bring. But, the beauty of this tradition is that it asks not only that they bring their best to the broader community, but also see it as an expression of their gratitude and abundance. Like those early Jews, I know that sharing your children each day with our larger community is not always easy. You all make efforts to get your kids ready despite the inevitable tantrums that accompany having a two or three year old, you stretch to pay the tuition that covers the costs of educating our students in this high-quality manner, and you have to separate from your children, sometimes happily and sometimes with a pull from them, or just from your own internal sense of connection. I must confess that I still feel that tug in my heart when my 8 year old climbs on to the school bus or when my daughters leaves for school on their own each morning. And while I do not see this as a “sacrifice,” I do see it as an expression in my belief in their future as members of this broader community, and school as a vehicle for their continuing to grow and evolve into the beautiful grown ups that I hope they will someday become.
I thank you for bringing your first fruits to us each day. I know that this is an enormous act of trust, and I feel honored to watch the communal power that comes from us all doing it together. The collective abundance of all of your fruits is nothing short of awesome.
Shabbat Shalom,
Ilana received her B.A. from Harvard College and a Master's Degree in Education from Bank Street College. She was born and raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan and now lives there with her husband and three children.
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