Parashat Behar-Bechukotai

“Plant your land for six years, and gather its crop, but let it go in the seventh and abandon it, so the poor among you may eat it, and the remainder shall be eaten by the beasts of the field. Do the same with your vineyards and olive groves.” (Exodus 23: 10-11)
 

Letting the land lie still allows it to recharge and reset: the soil can replenish vital nutrients, roots can take hold, and new vegetation can find room to sprout. This agricultural Shabbat of sorts is certainly beneficial to the land, preserving its foundation and reminding each of us to take care of God’s creations. In fact, if we are also a creation of God, what parallels can we draw from this extended pause and can we use them to better ourselves and the world around us?

In my mind, this past year at times has felt like one unique unexpected global shemitah, with each of us being our own little field. The unknown, daily weight of the news, and break from our usual norms, made for a rough transition. We’re so used to going, doing, and producing that it took time to find our own reset buttons. However, once we gained more clarity on how to stay safe, we learned to embrace the respite and even till our own soil. 

At first glance, it’s almost unfathomable how communities are supposed to sustain themselves for such a long amount of time after ceasing important agricultural production and their usual lifestyle. Similarly, we can all remember when grocery stores started running low on goods and even toilet paper became a rare find. God says, “I will command My blessing for you in the sixth year, and it will yield produce for three years.” (25:21). That’s certainly generous, but does it happen automatically? Is it a guarantee? What if the “Sabbatical” you’re living through wasn’t planned for? The parashah explains that it requires Torah study and the observance of mitzvot for God to grant a portion to get you through. “If you follow My statutes and observe My commandments and perform them . . . I will grant peace in the Land, and you will lie down with no one to frighten you.” (26:3-6).
 

As we approach June and ease our way out of this pandemic, I believe that our school community’s commitment to observance and joyful Jewish living enabled us to push through this unique shemitah of a pandemic year. The changes in our calendar allowed all of us to rethink our approach and dream up some really special, safe in-person celebrations and experiences. Just like God promised, our efforts were rewarded with safety, peace, and a resilience that weathered the storm. 

So even with all the challenges of shemitah and the negativity in our world, the extended time in which we were required to live differently and pause from our usual routines allowed me (and hopefully you) to do some introspection and get to know myself in ways I would never have acknowledged. I let myself grow. My nutrients recharged and I too returned stronger than ever. 

Ultimately, we can’t always prepare for these pivotal years in our lives, but we can commit to responding to them with patience, resilience, and introspection. Shemitah to me is no longer about restraint, but rather another reminder in our Jewish lifecycle to constantly begin anew. Shabbat Shalom.