Parashat Behar - English

Rabbi Mario Gurevich 
Beth Israel Synagogue – Aruba

It seems like we Jews are always counting.  

Last week we were ordered to count the Omer: seven weeks that begin on the second night of Pesach and end on the 50th day with the holiday of Shavuot.  It is an ascending count that brings us from the celebration of liberty to the high point of our history, the Revelation at Mount Sinai. 

This week (Parashat Behar) in Lev. 35:1 we are ordered that upon arriving to the land of Israel, we should count a week of years and then celebrate the Shabbat of the earth (Shmita) and then count a week of weeks of years and on the 50th year celebrate a Jubilee (Yovel).

I once read that the number seven is the DNA of the Jewish people and I am tempted to believe that it is so.  Why so many sevens?  Why the insistence on the week? 

Because each of these counts brings us back to the story of the Creation and in this way to reflect on the peculiar relationship between G-d and man.  

Our weekly Shabbat is the singular Jewish way of sanctifying time and recognizing G-d as the author of the Universe and our lives.  

But the repetition of the counting, for example in the seven weeks that go from Pesach to Shavuot, from the liberty to the Revelation, also has the same purpose.  Divine will was a key component of our exit from Egypt and liberty would not have made sense without a Law that would guide our lives and make us worthy.
 

The counting of the years of the Shmita and the Yovel introduce a new perspective.  The objective of letting the earth lie fallow, even more than the obvious advantages to an agricultural society, was to show our respect for the equilibrium of nature and consequently for our Creator.
 

There was also the social justice aspect of the jubilee in which land returned to its original owners, debts were pardoned, and slaves were liberated from servitude.  The lesson is that neither poverty nor wealth are unavoidable destinies transmitted from generation to generation.  There are fluctuations in social condition and the economy, and above all should reign harmony among people, moral conduct, and love for your neighbor.   

Maybe this is a little utopian, but this is the model of harmony presented to us by the Torah and to which we should aspire. 

Ben Gurión once said that in Israel, one who does not believe in miracles is not a realist.  

I would dare to add as a corollary that utopia is the unwritten commandment of the Torah and in some way the sustenance of our messianic belief.  In spite of all the evidence, we can aspire to and hope to see a better world, without the inequality, pain, and conflict that still overwhelms us today.
 

Shabbat Shalom.