This week's Parsha is a dramatic departure from almost everything we have read in the book of Leviticus up until this point. In our previous eight portions, topics included sacrifices, skin diseases, rules for priests and sexual prohibitions.
Now, all of a sudden we get hit with something surprising and exciting - making Aliyah! (Lev 25:2)
דַּבֵּר אֶל בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל וְאָמַרְתָּ אֲלֵהֶם כִּי תָבֹאוּ אֶל הָאָרֶץ אֲשֶׁר אֲנִי נֹתֵן לָכֶם וְשָׁבְתָה הָאָרֶץ שַׁבָּת לַי־הֹוָ־ה:
"Speak to the children of Israel and you shall say to them: When you come to the land that I am giving you, the land shall rest a Sabbath to the Lord."
What?!? I thought we were given this land as an inheritance, now there are even rules for when we can harvest "our" land? B'nai Yisrael is just beginning to realize there is something very special about this land, apart from the flowing milk and honey. It is spelled out most clearly a few verses later (Lev 25:23)
וְהָאָרֶץ לֹא תִמָּכֵר לִצְמִתֻת כִּי לִי הָאָרֶץ כִּי גֵרִים וְתוֹשָׁבִים אַתֶּם עִמָּדִי:
"The land shall not be sold permanently, for the land belongs to Me, for you are strangers and [temporary] residents with Me."
This must have come as quite a shock to a people fervently waiting to inherit their promised property. It turns out that the "property" isn't really theirs at all!
As we read on, we learn the rules of the seventh year, where the land must lie uncultivated. This is perhaps a bit worrying, especially for a people all too used to food scarcity, but the next verse has it beat: (Lev 25:10)
וְקִדַּשְׁתֶּם אֵת שְׁנַת הַחֲמִשִּׁים שָׁנָה וּקְרָאתֶם דְּרוֹר בָּאָרֶץ לְכָל יֹשְׁבֶיהָ יוֹבֵל הִוא תִּהְיֶה לָכֶם וְשַׁבְתֶּם אִישׁ אֶל אֲחֻזָּתוֹ וְאִישׁ אֶל מִשְׁפַּחְתּוֹ תָּשֻׁבוּ:
"And you shall sanctify the fiftieth year, and proclaim freedom [for slaves] throughout the land for all who live on it. It shall be a Jubilee for you, and you shall return, each man to his property, and you shall return, each man to his family."
The שנת יובל, or Jubilee Year, is a truly revolutionary concept. Every 50 years, all slaves are to be freed and all land sales are declared null and void. That is to say, all land is returned to those who inhabitated it originally, when B'nai Yisrael conquered the land and the plots were divided according to the Torah.
The Jubilee year serves as a restart button - all the economic progress that a person has made is almost completely erased. More than this, it reminds us that we are not really owners, in a permanent sense, of anything in this world, let alone property in Eretz Yisrael.
These days, the Jubilee Year is not binding, due to a few technicalities including the high amount of Jews living in the diaspora, the fact that we are not in control of the entire promised land, the destruction of the Temple and the dissolution of the Sanhedrin, who were charging with keeping track of the counting.
That being said, the lesson of the Jubilee Year is very current. Most of us spend inordinate amounts of our precious time and energy in order to accumulate material wealth, possessions and status in society. We feel that when we work hard, we can use the money that we earned to buy something, which will be ours for the rest of our lives, or at least until we want an upgrade.
This is the American Dream, and a universal vision of success - work hard, find a spouse, and eventually buy a nice house with a picket fence in the suburbs for your family to grow up in.
In many ways, these goals are truly noble and can bring immense satisfaction. לבנות בית בישראל, to build a home in Israel, is in itself a holy act and a big mitzvah. However, the Torah comes to remind us that we are here for a higher purpose, larger than ourselves. Today I am speaking about the specific Jewish role, but I believe there is a important, God-given role for all peoples to play. But this is a topic for another day.
Anyhow, God didn't bring us out of Egypt simply so we could dwell in an over-priced-white-picket-fenced-apartment in Jerusalem. We were brought here, and given the Torah, in order to build a model society. More than that, we are here to elevate ourselves and those around us to a higher level - even to bring the Messiah.
The Messiah - a difficult, and perhaps even uncomfortable subject for many of us. What exactly does it mean? What role can we possibly play in an event of such cosmic signifigance? Can I really believe in such a far-fetched idea?
Very clearly, I am not going to pretend the I have even the faintest clue as to the answers. However, I was once told a story by Rabbi James Maisels that gives a bit of insight into this great mystery. I'll try to reproduce it here.
There was once a great house of study in the old country. This yeshiva was located in a small town, and all the best students from the surrounding villages came to study there. The best teachers around taught there. The learning was passionate, deep, and spiritual. The students were engaged, excited, and always stayed after classes to learn more.
However, as the years dragged on, the atmosphere in the Bet Midrash began to lose some of it's electricity and passion. It wasn't that the teachers had dropped in quality - they hadn't. It wasn't that the students lost their energy - they hadn't. The building itself was in fine shape. Nonetheless, something was missing.
This truly vexed the Rosh Yeshiva, a most learned and compassionate man. One day, he called a meeting of all the students and teachers to talk see what could be done. They talked all day and all night, but no one could put a finger on what was the matter. Just as the morning sun was rising, one of the older teachers suddenly had an idea. He told the Rosh Yeshiva "you must visit the Rebbe of the forest - he will be able to help."
The teacher was referring to an ancient man who lived in the nearby forest outside of town. He lived alone, and hadn't been seen for many years. Even though he wasn't sure the Rebbe was even still alive, the Rosh Yeshiva took the suggestion and set out that very day, a Friday.
He walked and walked and walked, until eventually he came to an broken down old hut. He was afraid to go any further, but the Rebbe of the forest burst out of the door and greeted him excitedly. "It is so wonderful that you came to spend a Shabbat with me! Come on in!" He gave the Rosh Yeshiva a huge hug and bundled him inside the door.
That night, the pair prayed, sang, danced, and feasted on the chicken that the Forest Rebbe had prepared, having the feeling that a guest was coming to visit. The Rosh Yeshiva was having a great time, but his joy was not quite full. The question that he had come to ask lingered in the back of his head. Of course, the Forest Rebbe noted this, and as the night was coming to a close, asked the Rosh Yeshiva what was on his mind.
The Rosh Yeshiva, whose name was Shlomo, told his tale of woe, and how he had come for advice. The Forest Rebbe sat back in his simple wooden chair, listening attentively. After Shlomo finished, a great silence filled the room. "A most troubling problem indeed," said the Forest Rebbe. "I don't know what to tell you. Perhaps something will come to me later. Come, drink another glass of wine."
The next morning, the pair prayed the deepest morning prayers of Shlomo's life. Afterwards, they went for a long, beautifully peaceful walk in the woods. The Forest Rebbe told stories, and they sang and laughed. At an appropriate time, Shlomo asked if the Rebbe had thought of any solutions. "Nope," said the Rabbi. "Come, let's sing another song."
Finally the duo returned to the hut, ate lunch, drank wine, sang, studied, and danced some more. The afternoon passed very rapidly, and soon it was time for a final bite to eat and Havdalah. The Forest Rebbe lit the candle under the pale light of the moon. Shlomo was sad to see to see this wonderful Shabbat come to a close.
Shlomo gathered his possessions and said "Rebbe, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity. This Shabbat was truly magical, and you are an amazing teacher. However, before I go, I need to ask you one more time if you have thought of any suggestions for our yeshiva."
The Forest Rebbe paused. "Unfortunately, nothing has come to me." Shlomo's eyes fell to the ground. "However," continued the Rebbe, "I had a strange dream last night. I dreamt that someone in your yeshiva is the Messiah." With that, he wished Shlomo 'shavua tov' and sent him on his way.
All the way home, Shlomo turned this over and over in his mind. Who in the Yeshiva could possibly be the Messiah?
He thought of one exceptionally bright young man, Herschel. He always knew the right answer and asked the most insightful questions. 'Maybe it's Herschel,' thought Sholomo.
He then thought of Moshe, another student. Moshe was very quiet, and kept to himself. He tended to the vegetable garden and when he did speak, he only had nice things to say. 'Maybe it's Moshe,' thought Shlomo.
He then thought of an older teacher, Yosef. Yosef was a very learned man, but extremely humble, and always looked out for the younger students, making sure they felt comfortable and tutoring them long into the night. 'Maybe it's Yosef,' thought Shlomo.
He then had another thought. "Could it be? No way. Well, just maybe. Who knows?" He was thinking of himself.
Finally, he made it back to the Yeshiva. Everyone greeted him excitedly, chomping at the bit to hear the words of the legendary Forest Rebbe. Shlomo told them the story, that the Rabbi hadn't been able to come up with anything, but at the very end of the Shabbat, had told of his dream that someone in the Yeshiva was the messiah.
From that day on, the spirit of the Yeshiva returned, rose to new heights, and never again weakened in all its many years.
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