How Should We Celebrate Shavuot in Israel Today?

The way Jewish communities observe Shavuot today bears little resemblance to how the festival was celebrated in biblical times. In the Torah, it is referred to as Chag ha-Katzir (חג הקציר)—“the Festival of the Harvest” (Exodus 23:16), and Chag Shavuot (חג שבועות)—“the Festival of Weeks” (Exodus 34:22). The term “Weeks” refers to the seven-week count from the offering of the omer—a sheaf of the season’s first barley harvest—to the presentation of the bikkurim, the first fruits of the wheat harvest, baked into leavened loaves (Leviticus 23:9–21). Shavuot, therefore, was originally an agricultural celebration—an expression of gratitude to God for the wheat harvest in the Land of Israel.

During the Second Temple period, Shavuot also became synonymous with the bringing of bikkurim, the first ripened fruits of all seven species for which the Land of Israel is praised: wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives, and dates (Deuteronomy 8:8). Farmers presented these fruits to the Temple in Jerusalem as a thanksgiving offering. Although these bikkurim could be brought from Shavuot until Sukkot, Shavuot marked the beginning and most joyous moment of the season.

The Mishnah (Bikkurim 3) paints a vivid picture of this ancient ceremony: farmers gathered in their towns and villages, carrying baskets brimming with their finest produce, often adorned with decorations. Wealthier participants presented their offerings in ornate baskets of gold, silver, willow, or palm fronds. As they approached Jerusalem, they would march to the sound of music and flutes. The city’s inhabitants, along with its leaders, would come out to greet the arriving pilgrims. In the Temple courtyard, the Levites sang, and each person recited a declaration tracing the people’s journey from Jacob’s descent into Egypt through their redemption and arrival in the Promised Land (Deuteronomy 26:5–10). The baskets were then placed beside the altar, and a thanksgiving offering was made.

In post-Temple, rabbinic tradition, however, Shavuot took on a new identity. It became known as Zeman Matan Torateinu (זמן מתן תורתנו)—“the time of the giving of our Torah”—and the central synagogue reading shifted to the account of the revelation at Mount Sinai (Exodus 19–20). As an expression of our love and appreciation for the Torah, many communities since the 16th century have adopted the custom of Tikkun Leil Shavuot  (תיקון ליל שבועות)—an all-night Torah study session. Once the domain of yeshiva students, this practice has since broadened. Today, Jews of all ages and backgrounds participate, moving from one Torah class to another as synagogues and community centers stay open throughout the night.

How did an agricultural harvest festival evolve into a commemoration of receiving the Torah? After the destruction of the Second Temple, when pilgrimages and offerings in the Temple were no longer possible, the Rabbis reinterpreted the festival to preserve its spiritual relevance. Since the giving of the Torah in the desert is traditionally believed to have occurred around the time of the wheat harvest in the Land, they recast Shavuot as the anniversary of that momentous event. This interpretation has endured throughout centuries of exile and dispersion.

With the return to the Land of Israel in modern times, however, a new expression of the festival emerged. Inspired by the biblical and Temple-era celebrations, early kibbutzim inaugurated what became known as the Chag ha-Bikkurim—the Festival of First Fruits. Kibbutz members dressed in white, adorned with garlands, paraded through their communities with the first yields of their crops, accompanied by haystacks, fruit baskets, and tractors. These offerings were later donated to the Jewish National Fund. The celebration included dance, music, and performances by kibbutz members of all ages, culminating in the public presentation of newborn children and their parents—symbolizing the ultimate “first fruits.” Over time, many other kibbutzim and moshavim embraced this modern Bikkurim festival as well.

How should we view this revival of the agricultural aspect of Shavuot? On one hand, it is commendable—a sincere attempt to reconnect with the festival’s original biblical meaning in the very land where it began. On the other hand, it appears to set aside the long-standing rabbinic tradition of honoring Shavuot as the day of divine revelation at Sinai.

So where does that leave us? Should we continue to mark Shavuot primarily as the celebration of the giving of the Torah, as we have for nearly two millennia? Or, now that we are back in our land, should we return to its agricultural roots?

Given the difficult times in which we are currently living, I believe we need as many reasons to celebrate as possible. Thus, instead of choosing one over the other, we should embrace both dimensions of this rich and multifaceted festival. Let us, therefore, continue the beautiful tradition of Tikkun Leil Shavuot, but let us not confine it to the walls of synagogues and study halls. Rather, let it spill into the open air, especially when the weather is almost always pleasant, and let us study Torah in the fields, forests, and parks that grace the Land of Israel today.

I can think of no more meaningful way to celebrate the dual gifts God has bestowed upon us: the Torah and the Land.

Chag Sameach.