The parshah this week starts off with the “first fruit” offering; basically, the first batch of ripened fruits to grow in one’s property were obligated to be brought to Jerusalem, to the Temple. At that site, the one offering the fruit would conduct a ritual that included a declaration of gratitude to Hashem (God). After reciting the declaration, the fruit would then be presented as a gift to the Kohen (Jewish priest) working in the Temple.
Throughout the many expressions recited in the declaration, one line seems to shine out after close examination. After praising God for removing us from the bondage of Egypt, the verse states:
“ ‘He brought us to this place, and He gave us this Land, a Land flowing with milk and honey’ ” [Deuteronomy: 26: 9]
“This place” refers to the Temple, and “this Land” refers to the land of Israel of course. The only problem is that they’re written in reverse order! Chronologically, we entered the land of Israel first and only then did we build the Temple! Furthermore, it would not be possible to build the Temple without entering the land first! What’s going on?
A very simplistic answer would be that indeed the Temple was built first; in a way. Before entering the land, while we were traversing the desert, we built the Tabernacle, which was sort of a transportable Temple. All the divine service that was needed to be done was carried out through the Tabernacle. So you can say that the Temple was built first, in its temporary state, and only then did we get to Israel. But there lies a slight problem with this simple answer. The verse we are focusing on is part of the declaration for the “first fruits” offering in particular, and this special offering only took effect once we entered Israel! We weren’t able to bring the first fruits to the Tabernacle! So perhaps there is a deeper answer to our question.
The idea is quite simple. The verse was not focusing on the order of chronology, rather it is meant to be understood as an order of ideology. Meaning, the Temple and what it symbolizes comes before our actual entrance into the land. The Temple, which is the locus of divine worship, represents the nation’s religious service. Without religious service, without the goal of developing a strong relationship with God, what point could the land of Israel serve? A cozy place to live? It is not the location of Israel that is the be-all end-all, but the function. So, although the Temple was actually built years after we stepped foot into Israel, the Jewish nation knew that it was the ultimate priority.
It is no coincidence that this verse, which expresses this ideal, is found within the special commandment of the “first fruits”. The act of giving up one’s first fruits to the Temple symbolized that one is meant to dedicate everything he has for the service of God. Through hard work and toil we work the land, and we hopefully receive fruits in return. But before we can enjoy them we are commanded to give the first batch towards a holier purpose. That is exactly the idea we have developed; it is this holier purpose that our nation had in mind from the start, before entering the land of Israel. And it is this holier purpose that we are meant to be cognizant of throughout every day of our lives.
There is no question, Israel is the most spiritual and uplifting piece of land on this earth. But not because of it’s beaches and nice scenery. We have to understand that the land of Israel was given to us for a greater intention. If we allow ourselves to lose sight of that goal, then we’ll miss the point entirely. May we truly develop the greater understanding of what Israel really means to us, and may we fulfill the saying B’Shana Haba B’Yerushaliym (Next year in Jerusalem)!
Good Shabbos,
NZL
We are currently in the midst of a very solemn time in the Jewish calendar, the period known as the “3 weeks”, where various calamities have fallen upon our people and most notably the destruction of both of the holy Temples. The Temple wasn’t just a building; it was the tool by which G-dliness could be perceived in the world. We aren’t just mourning the loss of a spectacular building comprised of special materials and concise measurements, of the most architecturally-impressive construction ever to exist. But we are mourning the absence of peace and clarity, a world bereft of spirituality and meaning; a world in which we have even made ourselves comfortable living in, despite it being merely a place of refuge in exile. 
