What the laws of bikkurim teach us about Shavuot

In our prayers, we describe Shavuot as “Chag Matan Torateinu,” but this name is not mentioned in the Torah. Indeed, the Torah never expressly confirms the festival coincides with the date of the revelation on Mount Sinai. The Torah descriptions of Shavuot focus on other aspects of the festival: Chag Shavuot (weeks), Chag HaKatzir, and Yom HaBikkurim.1 

The term Chag Shavuot, literally Festival of the Weeks, is apparently derived from the count of seven weeks (shavuot) from the Omer offering until we celebrate the festival.2 The Omer offering is one of three Torah mitzvot of bikkurim, the command to bring the first of the seven species of produce that distinguish the land of Israel to the Temple.  

What we call the Omer is a measure of the first of the barley crop, that is reaped and brought to the Temple as a communal offering on the second night of Passover: 

“When you come to the land that I give to you and reap the reaping, and bring the Omer, the first of your reaping, to the Priest… You shall not eat bread, parched grains, and groats until that same day, until you bring the offering of your God, an eternal law for your generations in all your settlements.” 

The Torah tells us that we may not eat from any of the new crop of grains until after we bring the Omer. It then brings the mitzvah to count seven full weeks from the time of the Omer offering to the Shtei HaLechem, Two Loaves offering, a communal offering from the first of the wheat:  

“And you shall count for yourselves from the morrow of the Sabbath, from the day you bring the waved Omer offering, seven full weeks… and you shall offer a new offering to the Eternal. From your settlements (mi’moshvoteikhem) you shall bring a Two Loaves, a waved offering, two-tenths measures of fine [wheat] flour, they should be baked leavened (chametz), first fruits to the Eternal… And on this day you shall declare a proclamation of holiness for yourselves, you shall not do any creative work, an eternal law in all your settlements for generations.”3 

The Torah describes Shtei HaLechem before it tells us that the day of the offering should be declared a holy-day, a festival. The Torah’s phrasing, both here and in Bamidbar 28:26, make it seem as though the day is a festival because it is the day the Shtei HaLechem is offered.4 This makes sense considering that this offering is the only Torah mitzvah that is unique to Shavuot, and the Torah never mentions that the festival is also the anniversary of the giving of the Torah.  

If we look closer at the Torah descriptions of Shavuot, it seems they all revolve around the Shtei HaLechem. Chag HaKatzir – because it is the time the wheat is reaped, and Yom HaBikkurim, because Shtei HaLechem are made from the first of the wheat. Occasionally, the Torah combines all these aspects into one verse – “Chag HaKatzir Bikkurei Maa’sekha,” “Festival of the Reaping, the first fruits of your work that you plant in the field.”5 

Reaping generally refers to grains, but “first fruits” in Hebrew can refer to both grains and fruits of the tree. Several commentaries point to the verse “You shall make for yourself a festival of Shavuot, the first of the reaped grain” as proof that Shavuot is called Yom HaBikkurim due to the offering of Shtei HaLechem, the first of the wheat, and not the fruits in general.6 

“A new meal-offering” 

The Torah calls both the Omer of barley and the Shtei HaLechem of wheat “mincha chadasha,” a new meal-offering. The term makes sense for the Omer, as we noted the Torah expressly prohibits eating from the new crop of grain before it is offered at the Temple. After we bring the Omer, we are permitted to eat from all new grains, including wheat. If it’s possible we’ve been eating the new wheat for the past seven weeks, what’s “new” about the Two Loaves of wheat bikkurim?  

The rabbis explain that the Omer permits us to eat from the new grain, but we may not bring offerings to the Temple from the new grain until the Shtei HaLechem is offered. Since the meal-offerings in the Temple must continue to be brought from last year’s harvest, the wheat bikkurim is a “new meal-offering” – new to the Temple.7  

Why this disparity? If anything, shouldn’t we bring the offering at the first moment possible? 

This may be an important reminder of the perpetual disparity between what God does for us and what we do for God. The seven weeks between these two offerings highlight the simple truth that God puts us first – allows us to bring the new grains into our own homes before requiring us to bring it to the House of God. 

Many rabbinic explanations of the count leading up to Shavuot exclusively refer to the aspect of Chag Matan Torateinu. This is the time Israel prepare to receive the Torah – and the count reminds us of their anticipation, or of the process of purifying themselves beforethe revelation and giving of the Torah.8 These opinions rely on the traditional explanation of the date of Shavuot, but they still have to explain why the count begins with the Omer, and not the first day of Pesach.  

None of this is found in the Written Torah, which presents us with a very clear reason for the count – it goes from the Omer offering from the first barley and concludes with the Shtei HaLechem from the first grain. How to explain the count from this point of view? On the simplest level, it seems to reflect the anxiety of a farmer counting the days between the ripening and reaping of the barley and the ripening and reaping of the wheat.  

The midrash notes how much people must do for their crops to grow, and how much the Israelites did to ensure the Omer was prepared with honor and dignity, but it also points out that everything is dependent on God’s favor – people can do their utmost, but if the wind is wrong, it will all fall apart.9   

The midrash highlights the general lack of parity in the relationship between God and Israel. Everything we have is from God – life, strength, and sustenance. Throughout the forty years in the desert God gave each Israelite an omer measure of manna for every day; Israel collectively offers God one Omer of barley, the grain we give animals to eat, once a year. On the other hand, the effort it takes to produce this food is similarly disproportionate – we can assume the word effort doesn’t apply to our Creator, but people must toil all day, every day, to provide for their basic needs.  

When we count seven weeks from the exodus to the giving of the Torah, we see this period as a time of redemption and joy – when we celebrate Pesach, Yom HaAtzmaut and Yom Yerushalayim. But for a farmer counting the days between the first barley and the first wheat, this is a time of anxiety and judgement, a time with the potential for death and destruction – like the mourning we currently observe for Rabbi Akiva’s students and the Jewish victims of the crusaders.10 

This disparity may lead us to believe that the concurrence of the count leading up to the giving of the Torah and the Shtei HaLechem is coincidence. But this underestimates the depth and wisdom of the Divine Torah. So how do we connect the two periods? 

Tur explains that the reason each individual is commanded to count the days is because they are so busy in the field, dealing with their crops, they may not notice when the New Moon is determined, and could lose track of the date of Shavuot. Counting these days leading up to this mitzvah ensures we direct our anxieties to God, and recognize that, no matter how hard we toil, it is our Creator’s will that ultimately determines our success.   

“All the mitzvah that I have given you this day, you shall observe to do, so that you will live and multiply and come and possess the land that the Eternal swore to your ancestors. And you shall remember all of the journey that the Eternal your God had you go these forty years in the desert… and He fed you the manna… so you would know that a person does not live on bread alone, rather a person lives on everything that issues from the Eternal’s mouth.”11 

We should never allow the hard work and physical effort we expel to earn our daily bread blind us to the simple truth that the strength to do these things is from God alone. Yes, we must expel physical effort for our crops to grow, but they will not flourish if God does not bless our fields. On the other hand. our spiritual growth is almost entirely in our hands. And in this case, God assures us of the covenant: if we tend to our spiritual selves, God will ensure we reap the rewards of our physical toil as well, bringing the rain and the wind in the proper time.  

“And you will eat and be satisfied and bless the Eternal your God for the good land He gave to you. Take care that you do not forget the Eternal your God, and fail to observe his commandments and laws and statutes that I command you today, lest you eat and be satisfied… and everything that is yours multiplies, and your heart becomes haughty and you forget the Eternal… And you will say in your hearts, my strength and the might of my hands did this great thing for me. And you shall remember that it is the Eternal your God who gives you strength to do great things, to establish His covenant that he swore to your ancestors as on this day.”12 

The seven weeks we count the Omer are weeks full of potential. In exile, without a land of our own, the sages told us to focus on the toil of Torah and mitzvot, to bring our spiritual toil to fruition. When Israel is settled in their land, the days leading up to Yom HaBikkurim are filled with physical toil, but the counting is meant to remind us that our strength to do this hard work comes from God, that our crops need God’s favor to bear fruit. If we fulfill our small side of the covenant – observe God’s commandments and acknowledge God’s bounty – God will give us everything.