The beginning of Parshat Ki Tavo is all fun and games– the fun, of course, being the laws of first fruits, and the games being the laws of tithing. As the reading continues, though, the tone becomes increasingly bleak. The Israelites stand on Har Gerizim and Har Eval to hear some blessings, and many, many curses. In synagogue, the intensity of this moment is marked by somber ritual, the Torah reader’s voice quieting as they convey the parasha’s fear-inducing imagery. And for me this year, having just returned from a summer spent in Jerusalem, these curses have taken on added sorrow and urgency.
There are two types of curses in Parashat Ki Tavo. The first type appears as a list of infractions that deem the person who does them אָרוּר, cursed. Among our first set of curses, we read: “Cursed be he who moves his fellow’s landmark,” “Cursed be he who subverts the rights of the stranger, the orphan, and the widow,” and “Cursed be he who accepts a bribe in the case of the murder of- an innocent person.” (Deuteronomy 27:17, 19, 25). Land encroachment and theft, gross mistreatment of our neighbors, the subversion of justice– these ancient curses require no translation to our modern day– we see these actions carried out by Jews in the West Bank every single day.
The curses that follow don’t just tell us that certain actions are so reprehensible that the person who does them is cursed. Instead, they describe, in vivid detail, the horrors that await Israel as punishment for transgressing. Just the idea of experiencing these curses is meant to deter us from sin. And these curses, too, are far too real today. A few weeks ago, I spent a day visiting a few Palestinian communities in the West Bank with RHR. Over the course of even a short visit, it was clear that a number of these worst nightmares of ours that the curses portray are features of everyday life for our Palestinian neighbors in the West Bank.
The curses describe destruction and its accompanying chaos: “God will put you to rout before your enemies, you shall march out against them by a single road, but flee from them by many roads” (Deuteronomy 28:25).
They describe desperate conditions: ”You shall grope at noon as a blind man gropes in the dark; you shall not prosper in your ventures, but shall be constantly abused and robbed, with none to give help” (Deuteronomy 28:29).
The curses describe the futility of efforts to continue living and supporting oneself in the face of violent destruction. “If you build a house, you shall not live in it. If you plant a vineyard, you shall not harvest it” (Deuteronomy 28:30). “Your ox shall be slaughtered before your eyes, but you shall not eat of it; your ass shall be seized in front of you, and it shall not be returned to you; your flock shall be delivered to your enemies, with none to help you” (Deuteronomy 28:31).
And they describe the horrible toll of constant fear: “The life you face shall be precarious; you shall be in terror, night and day, with no assurance of survival. In the morning you shall say, “If only it were evening!” and in the evening you shall say, “If only it were morning!”— because of what your heart shall dread and your eyes shall see” (Deuteronomy 28:66-67).
Standing atop a hill in the village of Duma, we could see at least three nearby outposts from which settlers intimidate residents, preventing them from moving about on their roads or roaming with their flocks on their own land. Palestinians daily face destruction of their resources: their land, their animals, their water. Constantly on high alert, these threats often hinder villagers' ability to make a living. One father shared that he stays awake all night on the roof of his home to stay alert to danger. In Jalud, we saw an empty home from which a family recently fled, overwhelmed by the terror.
The curses that we are meant to imagine enduring and then expend great effort avoiding are painfully real for Palestinians. As we read these words of Torah in the middle of the month of Elul, we must allow them to stir us to action so we might declare with confidence, “תִּכְלֶה הַשָּׁנָה וְקִלְלוֹתֶיהָ, let this year and its curses end” (BT Megillah 31b:10, Ahot Ketana by Spanish rabbi Abraham Hazan Girondi).
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Zoe Dressner-Wolberg is a fifth-year rabbinical student at HUC-JIR in New York. She is a graduate of the Joint Program between the Jewish Theological Seminary and Columbia University. She was formerly Froman Rabbinic Intern at the New Israel Fund, and she currently serves as rabbinic intern at Temple B’nai Or in Morristown, NJ.
There are two types of curses in Parashat Ki Tavo. The first type appears as a list of infractions that deem the person who does them אָרוּר, cursed. Among our first set of curses, we read: “Cursed be he who moves his fellow’s landmark,” “Cursed be he who subverts the rights of the stranger, the orphan, and the widow,” and “Cursed be he who accepts a bribe in the case of the murder of- an innocent person.” (Deuteronomy 27:17, 19, 25). Land encroachment and theft, gross mistreatment of our neighbors, the subversion of justice– these ancient curses require no translation to our modern day– we see these actions carried out by Jews in the West Bank every single day.
The curses that follow don’t just tell us that certain actions are so reprehensible that the person who does them is cursed. Instead, they describe, in vivid detail, the horrors that await Israel as punishment for transgressing. Just the idea of experiencing these curses is meant to deter us from sin. And these curses, too, are far too real today. A few weeks ago, I spent a day visiting a few Palestinian communities in the West Bank with RHR. Over the course of even a short visit, it was clear that a number of these worst nightmares of ours that the curses portray are features of everyday life for our Palestinian neighbors in the West Bank.
The curses describe destruction and its accompanying chaos: “God will put you to rout before your enemies, you shall march out against them by a single road, but flee from them by many roads” (Deuteronomy 28:25).
They describe desperate conditions: ”You shall grope at noon as a blind man gropes in the dark; you shall not prosper in your ventures, but shall be constantly abused and robbed, with none to give help” (Deuteronomy 28:29).
The curses describe the futility of efforts to continue living and supporting oneself in the face of violent destruction. “If you build a house, you shall not live in it. If you plant a vineyard, you shall not harvest it” (Deuteronomy 28:30). “Your ox shall be slaughtered before your eyes, but you shall not eat of it; your ass shall be seized in front of you, and it shall not be returned to you; your flock shall be delivered to your enemies, with none to help you” (Deuteronomy 28:31).
And they describe the horrible toll of constant fear: “The life you face shall be precarious; you shall be in terror, night and day, with no assurance of survival. In the morning you shall say, “If only it were evening!” and in the evening you shall say, “If only it were morning!”— because of what your heart shall dread and your eyes shall see” (Deuteronomy 28:66-67).
Standing atop a hill in the village of Duma, we could see at least three nearby outposts from which settlers intimidate residents, preventing them from moving about on their roads or roaming with their flocks on their own land. Palestinians daily face destruction of their resources: their land, their animals, their water. Constantly on high alert, these threats often hinder villagers' ability to make a living. One father shared that he stays awake all night on the roof of his home to stay alert to danger. In Jalud, we saw an empty home from which a family recently fled, overwhelmed by the terror.
The curses that we are meant to imagine enduring and then expend great effort avoiding are painfully real for Palestinians. As we read these words of Torah in the middle of the month of Elul, we must allow them to stir us to action so we might declare with confidence, “תִּכְלֶה הַשָּׁנָה וְקִלְלוֹתֶיהָ, let this year and its curses end” (BT Megillah 31b:10, Ahot Ketana by Spanish rabbi Abraham Hazan Girondi).
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Zoe Dressner-Wolberg is a fifth-year rabbinical student at HUC-JIR in New York. She is a graduate of the Joint Program between the Jewish Theological Seminary and Columbia University. She was formerly Froman Rabbinic Intern at the New Israel Fund, and she currently serves as rabbinic intern at Temple B’nai Or in Morristown, NJ.