The Origins of Kol Nidre: A Yom Kippur Message from Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

This evening we will all stand in Shul and recite the Kol Nidre prayer before we begin Maariv. The melody of the tefila is memorable and moving, but the actual text of the prayer is puzzling. Kol Nidre serves to free us from any vows and obligations we have taken upon ourselves and have not fulfilled; it does not seem to be much of a prayer, let alone a prayer to start off the holiest day of the year.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks explains the possible origins of the Kol Nidre in an eloquent and moving Yom Kippur message, posted on the Chief Rabbi's website. You may access the video by clicking here.
Gmar Chatimah Tovah.

Sleeping on Rosh Hashana

By Rabbi Leonard Matanky

The Rama [Shulchan Aruch Orech Chaim 583:1] notes (and praises) the custom not to sleep on Rosh Hashana. The source given is a Yerushalmi that he who sleeps on Rosh Hashana, his "mazal" sleeps, implying that his judgment may not go as well as it could. However, the Mishnah Berura [ibid. note 9] notes that the Ari z”l did permit a person to sleep after midday.

Interestingly, many suggest that what the Rama was referring to was not taking a nap - but sleeping late, and therefore, people should wake up before sunrise on Rosh Hashana [see: Kaf Hachaim 583:39]. Furthermore, even those who prohibit sleeping during the day [Mishna Berurah ibid.] note that "not sleeping" is not the goal. Rather, the time should be spent on spiritually worthwhile activities such as learning Torah and saying Tehillim [see also Chayei Adam 139:11]. If a little sleep will facilitate learning, then it is a worthwhile tradeoff (ibid.). The Mishna Berura goes on to say that wasting one’s time is equivalent to sleeping.

Finally, since the first day of Rosh Hashana is the main day of judgment, there is even more room for leniency on the second day of Rosh Hashana [Piskei Teshuvot 583:10].

Chana's Prayer and Disruptive Davening on Rosh Hashana

Throughout the year when we pray, the centerpiece of our tefilot is the Shemoneh Esrei, the Silent Devotion. We stand in silent prayer as we praise God, ask Him for things we and the Jewish people desperately need and thank Him for all that He has done and continues to do for us on a daily basis. It might then come as surprise that Rabbi Yosef Karo codifies in his Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 582:9) the following halacha:

אף על פי שכל ימות השנה מתפללים בלחש, בראש השנה ויום הכפורים נוהגין לומר בקול רם. ולהטעות לא חיישינן, כיון שמצויים בידם מחזורים
Even though throughout the rest of the year we pray silently, on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur it is customary to utter [the prayers] aloud. And we are not concerned that this will cause others to make a mistake because they have machzorim (prayer books) in their hands.

It is apparent from Rabbi Karo's ruling that in his day (16th century) people did not regularly daven with siddurim. It was only during the High Holidays, when people were unfamiliar with the prayers that it was customary for everyone to have their own prayer book; people were more susceptible to make mistakes in their tefilot when they prayed by heart so it was prohibited to daven out loud, lest you break another person's concentration. However on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur when everyone had machzorim, people would not lose their place in tefila if they heard someone else praying out loud.
Rabbi Yisrael Meir Kagan in his Mishna Berura (582:20) explains why one would raise their voice especially on Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur,

מפני שעי"ז יוכלו להתפלל יותר בכונה ומ"מ לא יגביה קולו יותר מדאי
For through this (raising one's voice) one can daven with more kavanah (intent). Nevertheless, one should not raise their voice more than necessary.

Nowadays even when people use siddurim year round the custom is to never raise one's voice during the silent Amidah because it is seen as a distraction and perhaps even as a display of arrogance.
One could make a strong case for praying silently, especially on Rosh Hashana. On the first day of Rosh Hashana we read of the birth of Shmuel. His mother, Chana, barren and desperate for a child turned to God in prayer. The Navi tells us (Shmuel I 1:13),

וחנה היא מדברת על לבה רק שפתיה נעות וקולה לא ישמע
Chana was speaking to her heart, only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard...

The Gemara (Brachot 31a) learns the following halacha from this pasuk,

רק שפתיה נעות - מכאן למתפלל שיחתוך בשפתיו. וקולה לא ישמע - מכאן, שאסור להגביה קולו בתפלתו.

'Only her lips moved' - from here we learn that one who prays should mouth the words with their lips.
'But her voice was not heard' - from here we learn that it is prohibited to raise one's voice during their tefila

These halachot refer to specifically to the recitation of the Shemoneh Esrei. We learn these laws, along with many others, from Chana's successful prayer. Rabbi Kagan writes in the Mishna Berura (584:6) that we read about Chana on Rosh Hashana because Hashem remembered her on that day and enabled her to conceive. Perhaps this is the reason why the custom has remained for people not to raise their voices during tefila even on Rosh Hashana, for it would seem inappropriate to deviate from the rules we learn about prayer from Chana on the very day her prayers were answered.

Rosh Hashana and the Akeidah: Cherishing What We Have

Wake up, wake up from your sleep, become aware of your actions, repent and remember your Creator!

That, says the Rambam, is the message contained in the tekiah, shevarim and teruah, the wails of the Shofar.

The first time the Shofar is alluded to in the Torah is in the Torah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashana, which tells the story of the Akeidat Yitzchak, the Binding of Isaac. After the angel frantically prevented Avraham from sacrificing his own son, Avraham turned and saw a ram caught in a nearby bush and sacrificed it in place of his dear son Yitzchak.

For a century, Avraham and Sarah suffered, as they remained childless, despite the promise of God, that they would one day have descendants as many as the stars in the sky and the dust of the Earth. In addition to suffering through childless years, Sarah was forced to watch as her maid, Hagar, had a child almost immediately after she entered into a relationship with Avraham. She waited nearly 100 years for a child, and here was this unworthy, idol worshiping, maidservant having the child that she was supposed to be having.

Finally after all of the domestic strife, Sarah, to everyone’s surprise, including her own, had a son. The birth of Yitzchak was an absolute miracle; Sarah had not received any fertility treatments and was well past her child bearing years, yet she was able to give birth to her first and only son at the spry, young age of 90.

After all of that, the years of suffering and mental anguish Hashem then commanded Avraham (Breishit 22:2):

קח נא את בנך את יחידך אשר אהבת את יצחק ולך לך אל ארץ המוריה והעלהו שם לעולה על אחד ההרים אשר אמר אליך

Please take your son, your only one, whom you love, Yitzchak, and get yourself to the Land of Moriah; bring him up there as an offering, upon one of the mountains which I shall indicate to you.

Imagine for a moment that you are Avraham and had just gone through all that you had gone through; wouldn’t you have been tempted to say, “Listen God, you had me with the first Lech Lecha, when you told me to leave my homeland for this little enclave called Caanan, but the buck stops here. I finally have my son and now you want to take him for Yourself!? I’m sorry, but no.”

Instead, the story goes (Breishit 22:3),

וישכם אברהם בבוקר ויחבש את חמורו ויקח את שני נעריו אתו ואת יצחק בנו ויבקע עצי עלה ויקם וילך אל המקום אשר אמר לו האלוקים

So Avraham awoke early in the morning and he saddled his donkey, he took his two young men with him, and Yitzchak, his son. He split the wood for the offering, and rose and went toward the place which God had indicated to him.

Not only did Avraham ready himself to go through with the sacrifice of the child who was supposed to be his heir and successor in the family business of monotheism, he set his alarm clock to wake up extra early in the morning so that he could carry out God’s commandment zealously.

What is going on here? Any questions about Avraham’s behavior can be answered by simply saying that he 100% complete and unwavering faith in Hakdosh Baruch Hu. God told him to do something so he was ready to do it; no matter how potentially crushing it would have been to him on a personal level. He understood as Iyov did (Iyov 1:21),

ה' נתן וה' לקח יהי שם ה' מבורך

Hashem gave, Hashem has taken away, may Hashem’s name be blessed.

What we really need to ask is, what was God doing? In the week leading up to Rosh Hashana we say daily in our Selichot, “Hashem Hashem Kel Rachum” - God is a merciful God; how could He be so cruel and merciless to the person who was the founder of monotheism?

To answer this question we must fast forward in time to when Avraham’s eventual descendants were on the cusp of entering the land which their forefather had settled in after leaving his homeland of Ur Kasdim hundreds of years earlier. As he begins his final address to the Jewish people at the end of Parshat Ki Tavo, Moshe tells the people (Devarim 29:3),

ולא נתן ה' לכם לב לדעת ועינים לראות ואזנים לשמע עד היום הזה

But Hashem did not give you a heart to know, or eyes to see, or ears to hear until this day

Until this day, the day in which the Jewish people would enter the land, the people did not fully comprehend nor appreciate all of the miracles that Hashem had performed for them. Moshe tells them that they have no eyes, ears nor minds, because they could not fully appreciate all that they had seen and heard during their time in the desert. Hashem had traveled with them in the desert for forty years, protecting them with the ענן הכבוד during the day and the עמוד אש at night. Their hunger was satisfied by the manna that rained down from the sky. They never had to change their clothes or shoes because they never wore out and they grew along with their owners. Moshe was telling them, that only once they arrived in Israel and the cloud and pillar of fire disappeared, the manna stopped falling, their shoes needed new soles and the holes in their clothes needed to be sewn back together, would they truly appreciate all that God had done for them over the course of 40 years in the desert.

In the same vein, in explaining the Akeidah, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (A Letter in the Scroll pg 113) writes that,

What we have, we eventually take for granted. Only what we lose and are given back again do we not take for granted, but consciously cherish and constantly protect...To be a Jew is to see nothing as merely natural.

God never intended on having Avraham sacrifice his beloved son; He only meant to teach Avraham an important lesson, one which could be passed down to his descendants, to us, in the form of מעשה אבות סימן לבנים, the actions of the fathers are a sign for the children.

The lesson of Rosh Hashana and the Akeidah is that we must not take anything for granted. We must improve our ways and here the cry of the Shofar to wake us up from our slumber, from our routine of walking through life taking everything for granted.

This Rosh Hashana may we utilize the opportunity presented to us by the wake up call of the Shofar; to appreciate life and all that we have and use that renewed appreciation to be grateful for the gifts that Hashem has given each and every one of us so that we can grow closer to one another and closer to our Creator.

Parshat Nitzavim: The Torah as an Inherited Debt

In Parshat Nitzavim, Moshe, in one of his final acts as leader of Bnei Yisrael, renewed the covenant of the Jewish people with Hashem as they were on the cusp of entering the Promised Land. Moshe warned the people that the only thing that would guarantee an uninterrupted existence in the Holy Land was the observance of mitzvot and loyalty to Hashem.
The terms of the new covenant, however, are striking. The Torah states (Devarim 29:13-14),

ולא אתכם לבדכם אנכי כרת את הברית הזאת ואת האלה הזאת. כי את אשר ישנו פה עמנו עמד היום לפני ה' אלוקינו ואת אשר איננו פה עמנו היום
Not with you alone do I seal this covenant and this curse. But with whoever is here, standing with us today before Hashem, our God, and with whoever is not here with us today.

The question that arises from this passage has major theological implications. How can it be that we, living thousands of years after the giving of the Torah, are obligated to abide by its laws? We were not present at the time the agreement was ratified; why should the fact that our ancestors accepted the Torah on our behalf legally obligate us to observe it? How can God punish us for violating laws, which we ourselves never had a chance to accept or reject?
Rabbi Don Isaac Abrabanel (1437-1508) raises the question in the name of the wise men of Aragon.
The Abrabanel answers the question with the following analogy,

אין ספק שאם אדם קבל הלואה מאחר שחייב בפרעונה הוא ובניו עד עולם. כי כמו שהבנים זוכים בירושת נכסי אביהם. ככה הם מחוייבים לפרוע חובותיהם וחיוב האבות... מוטל על הבנים אף על פי שלא היו עדיין בעולם...

There is no doubt that if a man receives a loan from another that the duty of repayment falls on him and his descendants. Just as the children inherit their father's property so they inherit his debts. Even though the children were not alive when the debt was incurred they are still liable to repay it.

Abrabanel goes on to explain the Bnei Yisrael became indebted to Hashem when He physically saved them from the bondage of Egypt and spiritually rescued them by giving them the Torah.
He concludes by writing,

ולהיות יסוד הברית והשעבוד הנצחי כלו יציאת מצרים היה תמיד נזכר בפי השם יתברך ובפי נביאיו. והיו מועדי ה' כלם זכר ליציאת מצרים כי זה מורה על ההשתעבדות הנצחי
Since the foundation of the covenant and this eternal servitude to Hashem was derived from the departure from Egypt, this historic fact was continually referred to by Hashem and on the lips of His prophets, and all the feasts of the Lord were a "remembrance of the going out of Egypt," for this taught of their eternal servitude.

In her commentary on Sefer Devarim (עיונים חדשים בספר דברים pp. 281-282), Nehama Leibowitz cites a flaw in the analogy of the Abrabanel. She writes,

בתחילת דברי אברבנאל נמצא גם את חולשת פירושו. הוא משווה את חיובם של כל הדורות בקבלת עול תורה ומצוות - והוא הוא תוכן הברית כאן - לבן שזכה בירושת אביו החייב משום כך גם לפרוע את חובות אביו. אך נראה שמשל זה לא יקדם אותנו בהבנת חיובם של כל הדורות, שהרי הבן יכול לוותר על הירושה וממילא הוא נפטר מכל החובות של אביו ואין בכך כל פסול. לא כן החובה של קבלת עול תורה ומצוות, הברית אשר נכרתה עם עאשר ישנו פה עמנו היום, זאת לא תיבטל ואין בידינו להשתחרר ממנה.
The flaw in Abrabanel's approach can be found at the beginning of his commentary. He compares the obligation of future generations in relation to the Torah to the obligation of children and heirs to repay their father's debts. But this explanation is not adequate since a child can always forego his inheritance and consequently rid himself of any obligations and debts involved. On the other hand, the binding nature of the Sinaitic revelation on the Jewish people is absolute and cannot be foregone.

Leibowitz claims that the Abrabanel's analogy is flawed because a son can free himself of his father's debts if he also forgoes his inheritance. However we do not have such an option when it comes to Torah observance.
Perhaps the Abrabanel's explanation can be defended against Leibowitz's critique. While it is true that a child can renounce his rights to his inheritance and thereby absolve himself from his father's debts, no one would ever claim that they would rather have remained behind in Egypt as a people of slaves for eternity rather than becoming obligated to keep the Torah. Furthermore, a true understanding of the Torah and its laws would lead a person to view it as gift rather than a burden, as it is stated at the end of our parsha regarding our relationship with God and His Torah (Devarim 30:19),

כי הוא חייך וארך ימיך
for He is your life and the length of your days

Tashlich When the First Day of Rosh Hashana Falls on Shabbat

The custom of going to a body of water on Rosh Hashana to recite Tashlich is an age old minhag that is first mentioned by Rabbi Yaakov ben Moshe Levi Moelin (1365-1427), also known as the Maharil, in his Sefer Maharil. Known as the father of Ashkenazic minhag, Rabbi Moelin writes that, unbeknownst to many people, the act of Tashlich should be purely symbolic; no food should be thrown into the water because it is prohibited on Yom Tov to feed fish that are not yet trapped. He concludes that the problem is further exacerbated when Rosh Hashana falls out on Shabbat (Sefer Maharil, Hilchot Rosh Hashana #9).
Rabbi Yaakov Reischer (1661-1733) in his responsa, Shvut Yaakov (3:42), writes based on the Maharil's concluding statement, that if the first day of Rosh Hashana falls out on Shabbat, tashlich should be recited as usual. He writes that there is no source in halachic literature to postpone the custom; in fact, one should fulfill the mitzvah at the first opportunity in accordance with the principle of זריזין מקדימין למצות. He writes that there should be no concern that people will carry on Shabbat. Finally, he concludes by noting that a certain book published during his lifetime ruled that tashlich should be postponed when it falls out on Shabbat, but he discredits it by claiming that the author invented the prohibition himself and that he must not have seen the ruling of the Maharil.
While Rabbi Reischer was vehemently opposed to the postponement of tashlich, R' Yisrael Meir Kagan (1838-1933), writes in his Mishna Berura (583:8),

ובקצת מקומות ראיתי כשחל יום א' בשבת הולכין בשני לנהר. ואפשר מפני שהנהר חוץ לעיר ומשום הוצאה שנושאין ספרים וכדומה לכך הולכין ביום שני
In a small number of places I have seen that when the first day [of Rosh Hashana] falls out on Shabbat, they go to the river on the second day. It is possible that the reason for this is because the river is outside of the city and because [of the melacha of] carrying; since they carry books with them, therefore they go on the second day.

Whereas Rabbi Reischer saw no need to postpone tashlich because of a fear of carrying, the Mishna Berura notes that some communities did have this concern so they postponed it until the second day. Perhaps these communities postponed tashlich because, as is the case nowadays, most people do not know tashlich by heart and need to recite it from a machzor. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef (1920- ) rules that tashlich should be postponed to the second day and he offers support for his ruling from another Rosh Hashana halacha. He writes (Responsa Yechaveh Daat 1:56) that Chazal ruled that the shofar is not sounded when Rosh Hashana falls out on a Shabbat because of a concern that a person might carry it 4 amot in the public domain, thus desecrating Shabbat; sounding the shofar is a biblical commandment and yet Chazal felt that persevering the sanctity of Shabbat was more important than sounding the shofar - all the more so tashlich, which is a custom should be postponed out of concern for potential Shabbat desecration. Common practice seems to follow the opinion of Rabbi Yosef.

Parshat Ki Tavo: That's A Lot of Chiseling!

As part of his farewell speech to Bnei Yisrael, Moshe informed the people of a mitzvah they were to perform once they crossed the Jordan (Devarim 28:2-3)

והיה ביום אשר תעברו את הירדן אל הארץ אשר ה' אלוקיך נתן לך והקמת לך אבנים גדולות ושדת אתם בשיד. וכתבת עליהן את כל דברי התורה הזאת בעברך למען אשר תבא אל הארץ אשר ה' אלוקיך נתן לך ארץ זבת חלב ודבש כאשר דבר ה' אלוקי אבותיך לך
It shall be on the day that you cross the Jordan to the Land that Hashem, your God, gives you, you shall set up great stones and you shall coat them with plaster. You shall inscribe on them all the words of this Torah, when you cross over, so that you may enter the Land that Hashem, your God, gives you, a Land flowing with milk and honey, as Hashem, the God of your forefathers, spoke about you.

In explaining the purpose of this mitzvah, Rabbi Don Isaac Abrabanel, writes that it was the custom of all conquerors to place monuments and symbols throughout the lands which they had conquered to show their strength and to let it be known that they ruled the land; He writes that this was in fact the practice employed by the Romans whenever they conquered a new land. Similarly, in the modern day the United States planted a flag on the moon to show that they were the first to land on the moon.

With His people ready to conquer the Land which He had promised to their forefathers, Hashem decided that they should demonstrate their might to the inhabitants of the Land; instead of raising a flag or erecting a statue of a king, Bnei Yisrael were charged to build a monument that would show the whole world the source of their strength and success - the Torah.
There is a difference of opinion amongst the commentators as to what was written on the stones. Ibn Ezra quotes Rav Saadiah Gaon who explains that Bnei Yisrael were not required to write the entire text of the Torah on the stones, but rather a listing of the mitzvot. However, it seems from a literal reading of the text, "You shall inscribe on them all the words of the Torah," that Bnei Yisrael were commanded to write the entire Torah beginning with Breishit and ending with the conclusion of Sefer Devarim. The Gemara (Sotah 32a) explains that not only did they have to write the entire Torah, but it had to be written as the Torah says (Devarim 27:8), "well clarifed", which Chazal interpret to mean, all spoken languages.
If one takes the position that the entire Torah had to be written on the stones and that it had to be written in all spoken languages, seventy in total, it would seem that Bnei Yisrael were given a task that would take generations to complete! In fact the Ramban (27:3) writes,

ויתכן שהיו האבנים גדולות מאד, או שהיה ממעשה הנסים
And it would follow that they had extremely large stones, or that there was a miraculous act

A rational approach to this dilemma is offered by Rabbi Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenburg (1785-1865) in his work, Ha'ketav V'HaKabblah. Rabbi Mecklenburg writes that when it comes to the mitzvah of mezuzah the Torah tells us (Devarim 6:9),

וכתבתם על מזוזות ביתך ובשעריך
And write them on the doorposts of your house and upon your gates

We know that the Torah does not mean that we should literally write the text of the Shema on our doorposts. Rather, we are required to write it on a piece of parchment and place the parchment on our doorposts. So too, writes Rabbi Mecklenburg, God did not command the people to literally write, or in this case chisel, the words of the Torah onto the stones. Rather, they could write it on parchment and place the parchment onto the stones, thus making this mitzvah a much less time consuming. Perhaps this is the reason why God also commanded the people to cover the stones with plaster - in order to protect the parchment from being damaged by the elements so that they could be an eternal reminder of our true source of strength.

Parshat Ki Tavo: The Mitzvah of Bikurim and its Connection to the Chet Ha'Meraglim

Parshat Ki Tavo begins with the mitzvah of bikurim, the commandment for all landowners in Israel to bring the first fruits of their crops of the seven species to the Beit Hamikdash as an offering to Hashem (Devarim 26:1-4). One of the unique elements of this mitzvah is the mikra bikurim, the passage that must be said when bringing the fruits to the Beit Hamikdash. The passage retells the story of the Jewish people from the days of Yaakov Avinu in the house of Lavan, to the slavery in Egypt, all the way to settlement in the Land of Israel (Devarim 26:5-10).
Many reasons are given for the mitzvah and the declaration that goes along with it. Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim 3:39) writes that the mitzvah teaches us humility; even though we now have land and enjoy the fruits of our labor, we must always remember where we came from. In a similar vein the Torah constantly warns us to remember the fact that we were once slaves in Egypt. Remembering our humble beginnings, will ensure that we are grateful for all that we have received. According to the Rambam the goal of bikurim is to instill in us feelings of hakarat ha’tov, gratitude.
While the Rambam’s explanation is intriguing, it renders this mitzvah generic by grouping it together with all other mitzvot that pertain to firsts - the first shearings of sheep (reishit ha'geiz), the first kneadings of dough (challah), and trumah. Rabbi Menachem Zemba, a Polish Torah scholar, who was murdered by the Nazis in the Warsaw Ghetto, offers an alternative explanation. Rabbi Zemba writes in the name of the Rabbi Yitzchak Luria, the Arizal, that the mitzvah of bikurim serves to counteract and atone for the chet ha’meraglim, the sin of the spies. Rabbi Zemba brings a proof from a Mishna in Masechet Bikurim (3:1)

כיצד מפרישין הבכורים יורד אדם בתוך שדהו ורואה תאנה שבכרה אשכול שביכר רמון שביכר קושרו בגמי ואומר הרי אלו בכורים
How does one separate bikurim? A person goes into their field and sees a fig that has just ripened, a cluster (of grapes) that has ripened, a pomegranate that has ripened, he ties it up and says, “these are bikurim”

Rabbi Zemba notes that the examples of fruits that the Mishna uses when describing how one declares his fruits to be bikurim are significant in light of a pasuk from the story of the sin of the spies (Bamidbar 13:23):

ויכרתו משם זמורה ואשכול ענבים אחד...ומן הרמונים ומן התאנים

And they cut from there a vine with one cluster of grapes...and of the pomegranates and of the figs

When Chazal decided to describe the way in which a person declares his fruit to be bikurim they used the fruits that the spies brought back from Eretz Yisrael to show the people. Rabbi Zemba writes that the author of the Mishna did this with full intent to show that there is a connection between bikurim and the chet ha’meraglim.

Rabbi Elchanan Samet (Iyunim L’Parashot Ha’Shavua Volume 1, pp. 398-399) provides further proof for the approach of the Arizal and Rabbi Zemba. He first notes the time of year in which the spies went on their mission (Bamidbar 13:20),

והימים ימי ביכורי ענבים
The days were the season of the first ripe grapes

Next he points out a number of linguistic parallels between the two parshiyot. When Moshe sent the spies on their mission he told them (Bamidbar 23:20),

ולקחתם מפרי הארץ
And you shall take from the fruits of the Land

while in the commandment to bring the bikurim to the Beit Hamikdash we are told (Devarim 26:2),

ולקחת מראשית כל פרי האדמה אשר תביא מארצך
You shall take from the first of every fruit of the ground that you bring in from your Land

More parallels can be found between the report of the spies and the mikra bikurim. The spies told the people (Bamidbar 13:27),

באנו אל הארץ אשר שלחתנו
We arrived at the Land to which you sent us

While in the mikra bikurim we say (Devarim 26:3)

באתי אל הארץ אשר נשבע ה’ לאבותינו לתת לנו
I have arrived in the Land which Hashem swore to our forefathers that He would give us

Finally the spies described the land as being (Bamidbar 13:27)

וגם זבת חלב ודבש הוא וזה פריה
And it also flows with milk and honey and these are its fruits

While in the mikra bikurim we say (Devarim 26:9-10),

ויתן לנו את הארץ הזאת ארץ זבת חלב ודבש. ועתה הנה הבאתי את ראשית פרי אדמה

He gave us this land, a Land flowing with milk and honey. And now behold! I have brought the first fruit of the ground...

In putting everything together and explaining the connection between the chet ha’meraglim and the mitzvah of bikurim, Rabbi Samet explains that the first encounter that Bnei Yisrael had with the fruits of the Land it was destined to inherit took place as part of the sin of the spies. In that case the fruits were brought from the Land to the desert, with the intent to delay our destiny and cause the people to seek a return to Egypt. Rashi (Bamidbar 13:23) explains that the spies did not bring the large fruits of the Land back to excite the people about the promising agricultural climate of their future homeland, but rather to dissuade them from continuing on their journey. They told the people that just like the fruits of the land were abnormally large, so too were the inhabitants of the Land. However when it comes to the mitzvah of bikurim, the fruits of Israel are brought from the four corners of the country inward, to the Beit Hamikdash, the heart of the Land. When everyone brought their fruits together, as one nation, to the Beit Hamikdash it was a unique experience, one that brought about a great sense of national pride and love for the Land. When a person reads the mikra bikurim and recounts the history of our people he expresses the fact that we overcame the trials and tribulations of psychological torment at the hands of Lavan, physical oppression in Egypt and the years of wandering in the desert to reach the Land we were destined to inherit. By expressing our love for the Land and our appreciation for what we had to go through in order to get it, we repair and atone for the chet ha’meraglim.