Lately, I have become very attached to the earth.  I’ve become more connected to the ground, to life, to growing things.  I’ve always been drawn to animals, but lately I’m being drawn more to plants.  This connection probably has a lot to do with where I’ve been over the summer months.  First in Eden Village Camp, then visiting our good friend Farmer Ben, then in Baltimore with Rabbi Ben’s friends who grow their own produce, and also to Kayam Farms.  We have been in a lot of places that focus on growing.

But it’s not just that.  My interest in growing things also stems from my having become a vegetarian some 8 or so years ago, which made me look at vegetables and fruits in a different way.  And also from my involvement a few years ago in a CSA (community supported agriculture) program that allowed me to buy a share in a local farm.  Maybe my interest really reaches as far back as our childhood trips blueberry and strawberry picking.  Who knows? What it comes down to is that slowly, slowly, my fascination and joy with growing vegetables and fruits has… grown!

So in reading this week’s parsha I am immediately struck by the mitzvah (commandment) of bikkurim, or the first fruits.  When a farmer goes out and sees the first fruits growing on his trees and in his fields, he consecrates them to the Kohanim (the priests), who serve G-d full-time.

At first glance, this seems kind of neutral.  I mean, we already have to tithe our produce and let the land lie fallow once every seven years.  So the concept of “giving up” for G-d is nothing new.  But there’s just something about those first fruits…

I remember once when I grew some tomatoes in the back yard.  When the first ones appeared, I was incredibly excited and couldn’t wait to taste them.  My hard work and patience had paid off!  I didn’t want to share that first bite with anyone.  It was so precious and so lovely because it was the first.

This sentiment that I felt as a teenager provides a clue to one of the meanings behind this law of bikkurim.  Not only do we have to give up for G-d, but we also have to be willing to give up the very first, the very best, the most precious that we have.  We have to be willing to give up even that which is near and dear to us for our love of G-d.

And, really, G-d isn’t asking too much.  He’s not asking us to sacrifice our children or to deprive ourselves of all worldly pleasures.  He’s asking us to be willing to give up the first and best of what our hands can produce, in His service.  After all, He is the one that gives us all our “fruits” in the first place!

So although the mitzvah of the first fruit technically only applies in Israel and technically only applies to the seven species, we don’t need to limit it to that when it comes to a deeper meaning.  We can use any skill or talent or possession we’ve worked hard to acquire to serve Him first, before anything else.  In this way, we will remember Him and recognize that without G-d, we would not have that skill/talent/possession at all, no matter how hard we try.  As a doctor, you can provide free check-ups to Jewish children from poor families.  As a juggler, you can entertain at a wedding.  And with your new car, you can deliver food to poor Jewish families or give a lift to a friend in need.

As we enter the coming week, let us remember: one of the most beautiful things about the mitzvah of the first fruits is that it has no limit.  We can tie a string to designate just one fruit, or we can tie many.  Let’s set our sights high as we approach Rosh Hashana and the start of a new year, and strive to donate as much of our very best, our “first and foremost” as we can, in the service of Hashem!

Shabbat Shalom!