How can following God’s commandments correct a person’s flawed nature?
Table for Five: Ki Tavo
In partnership with the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles
Edited by Salvador Litvak, the Accidental Talmudist
When you have finished tithing all the tithes of your produce in the third year, the year of the tithe, you shall give [them] to the Levite, the stranger, the orphan, and the widow, so that they can eat to satiety in your cities.
– Deut. 26:12
David Brandes, Screenwriter, World Famous in Canada
My cranky old friend, screenwriter Walter Davis used to say, “The problem with the entire human enterprise is that man ain’t no good.” Walter was only confirming what God suspected all along. Recall, after the flood (Genesis 8:12) God reflected: “The imagination of the heart of man is evil from his youth.” And then there is the Sh’ma where God hones in on the problem and warns us “not to follow our hearts and eyes which we lust after.” The Rabbis took it very much to heart and ruled that we recite the Sh’ma twice a day in our prayers.
Okay, so there are design flaws in man and no 1.1 update is available. Lest you fall into despair, God has many workarounds, namely the commandments. Tithing your earliest produce in this week’s Parsha is but one example. Not to make us feel good; not because it’s the right thing to do; and certainly not because it would place us on the right side of history. It’s a corrective for our flawed nature. The Abarbanel explains, “…the purpose was to humble man’s selfish passions… and subdue natural instincts.” Or as Freud put it, civilization begins with repression.
This is a good time of the year for us to consider our dark side. The High Holidays are almost upon us. It’s an opportunity to ask for forgiveness for our transgressions. Have you ever wondered why Yom Kippur isn’t optional?
Nicholas Losorelli, Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies Class of 2025/5785
Tithing is a concept that feels foreign to many of us today. We tend to see our income as ours and ours alone, believing we are the sole arbiters of how much to give. However, this pasuk reminds us that not everything we harvest is actually ours—we must give some away. We have many choices, but the requirement to tithe is not a choice, it’s a divine mandate. Although we labor, we neither caused the rain to fall nor the plants to grow—those powers of nature are God’s. As such, we mustn’t fool ourselves as to who is the true owner of the labor of our hands. While human civilization gives us the privilege of manipulating nature for our benefit, it also creates economic disparity, leaving people like strangers, orphans, widows, and many others vulnerable, a pitfall of human agency and nature of which the Torah is acutely aware.
The Torah is both aspirational and realistic, acknowledging that human free will can lead to suffering. Given this reality, tithing represents a compromise: we may build our cities, manipulate nature, and exercise our free will, but we must also care for those affected by civilization’s inequity and iniquity. They too are made in the image of God and helping them isn’t just right—it’s righteous. At the heart of Tzedakah is Tzedek—justice, and if we stand any chance at holding onto this world, we must partner with God in the mitzvah of giving away what is rightfully God’s to give.
Ilan Reiner, Architect & Author of “Israel History Maps”
Every year, landowners are required to set aside a portion of their produce for the Levites, who have no land of their own. This tithe is given annually to support the Levites in their Temple duties. However, on the third and sixth years of the Shemittah (the seven-year agricultural cycle), a different type of tithe is required: the Year of the Tithe.
In the Year of the Tithe, landowners must distribute their produce not only to the Levites but also to those without land—namely, the stranger, the orphan, and the widow. Rabbi Naphtali Zvi Judah Berlin, known as the Netziv, offers an insightful interpretation. He explains that the annual tithes given to the Levites compensate them for their service in the Temple, akin to membership dues for shul. In contrast, the Year of the Tithe is a dedicated expression of honor to Hashem.
While this practice may seem like an act of social justice—feeding the poor—the Torah reveals a deeper spiritual lesson. By ensuring that the less fortunate are not merely provided for but are satisfied, we demonstrate our commitment to divine principles.
The commandment concludes with a confession—a formal declaration before Hashem—affirming that the commandment was fulfilled faithfully. This acknowledgment is integral to the ritual, as it positions the community to seek divine blessings for the nation and the Promised Land of Israel. The act of tithing in this manner not only addresses immediate needs but also strengthens the spiritual and communal bond between the people and Hashem.
Kira Sirote, Author of “Haftorah Unrolled”, Ra’anana, Israel
Our verse is the commandment to give “Maaser Ani” – tithe to the poor after a harvest. Torah doesn’t actually say “poor,” it says: “the Levi, the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow.” This list also appears in the commandments of celebrating the harvest holidays, Shavuot and Succot: “You shall rejoice in your holiday: you, your son, your daughter, your manservant, your maidservant, and the Levi, the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow, who are in your gates.” (Devarim 16:14)
The Midrash says: “G-d said: you have 4 dependents, and I have 4 dependents. If you bring joy to Mine together with yours in your home, during the holidays that I gave you, then I will bring joy to yours together with Mine, in My House – ‘I will bring you all to My Holy mountain, and bring you joy in My House of Prayer.”‘ (Tanchuma Re’eh 18)
People who do not have the means to own land, or to work and harvest the land that they own, are dependent on the kindness of others. The Torah demands that we do not see it as kindness, but rather as responsibility. People who do not have the same kind of roots in the land as others might perceive themselves as less grounded, unmoored and undesirable. The Torah demands that we include them in our homes and in our celebrations. That will make us worthy of G-d’s House, Beit HaMikdash, where everyone feels included and valued, regardless of their financial and social status.
Rabbi Tova Leibovic-Douglas, @rabbi_tova, www.theritual.house
We see this commandment of caretaking for the stranger, orphan, and widow throughout our texts. Jewish wisdom commands us to ensure that those most vulnerable in our communities are the ones to never forget. Yet, in our world of chaos that meets abundance, change that meets fear, and reaction that meets distraction, I wonder if this commandment is truly lived out by most in the way it once was prioritized. Many of us forget those who rely on us because we are not yet satisfied with ourselves. Will we ever be? The question for us to consider during this time of reflection and spiritual investigation of the Hebrew month of Elul is if we are living according to the values that are set out for us as the blueprint for our souls. Ki Tavo translates to “when you enter,” and while it may be describing the Israelites entering the land of Canaan, the phrase is an invitation for us to personally remember that while we are preparing to enter a New Year in our calendar, we have obligations that are deeply spiritually important. This verse reminds us to ask: are we prepared to enter this year? If so, let us do the work to feel satiated so that we can move towards nourishing those who need it most. It is past time.
With thanks to David Brandes, Nicholas Losorelli, Ilan Reiner, Kira Sirote and Rabbi Tova Leibovic-Douglas
Image: “The Widow’s Mite” by James Tissot, c. 1890
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