Losing It for a Blessing

I reached into my jacket pocket… and froze.

Empty.

I checked the other pocket. Nothing. Trousers? Empty.

Standing at the ticket counter of the Underground station, a small queue of London commuters watched as I performed a frantic, full-body search. My first ever wage envelope — gone.

Heart racing, I retraced my steps up Tottenham Court Road. Halfway back to the shop, I spotted two beggars I’d passed earlier.

And there they were — clutching my wage envelope, arms linked, dancing a little jig. Judging by their grins, I knew exactly where they were headed next: the pub. On me.

Part of me wanted to wrestle them there and then. My heart pounded — anger, frustration, and helplessness all tangled together.

But before I tell you how that ended, let me take you back to where it all began.

My First Job — and First Lesson

Laskys’ flagship Hi-Fi store was my dream job. As a music lover, my days were spent stacking amplifiers, wiring turntables, balancing graphic equalizers, and testing speakers loud enough to blow pigeons off Nelson’s Column in nearby Trafalgar Square.

Finally, Peace and Quiet
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At long last, payday arrived. I proudly collected my wages, slipped them into my pocket, and dashed to the Underground… only to learn my first lesson about giving before enjoying.

Back at Laskys, I told the manager what had happened. Bracing myself for a lecture, I waited — but instead, he called in the wages clerk. To my surprise, they quietly arranged to advance me next week’s wages — deducting 10% from each future wage until the loan was repaid.

I walked away stunned and embarrassed.

I didn’t know it then, but this small, painful moment was preparing me for a bigger lesson in life.

Ki Tavo — Giving Before Enjoying

This week’s portion opens with the mitzvah of בִּכּוּרִים — bringing the first fruits to the Beit HaMikdash in Yerushalayim.

When a farmer plants a tree, the countdown doesn’t begin immediately. It starts only when the tree first bears fruit. From that moment, an extraordinary journey begins:

• For three years (Orlah), the fruit is completely untouchable. Not one fig, not one olive, not one grape.

• Imagine the struggle: months under the blazing sun, praying for rain, pruning branches, guarding against pests — all without tasting a single bite.

• In the fourth year (Neta Revai), the farmer finally brings his fruit to Yerushalayim, where he eats it only in holiness, dedicating it first to Hashem.

• Only from the fifth year onwards can he enjoy his fruit freely. But even then, the first act isn’t to take — it’s to give.

The Farmer’s Labour of Love
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This is true giving. It’s not just about patience — it’s about perspective.

The farmer learns that blessing doesn’t come from what we take. It comes from recognizing where it comes from. And that recognition transforms restraint into gratitude — and gratitude into joy.

Giving 100% — And Finding Joy

Each week, as I saw that quiet 10% deduction from my wages, I realized I was learning to give before enjoying. At first it felt like loss, but over time it became natural. Later, when I built my own business, it no longer felt like something taken away — it came with joy.

בִּכּוּרִים teaches the same lesson: when we give first, we make space for blessing. We discover that generosity isn’t subtraction — it’s multiplication.

Because sometimes, holding back isn’t about losing.
It’s about making space for joy.

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