Parshas Behar-Bechukosai 5783
“I’m not just a Jew at heart.”
This is the mantra of every Jew dedicated as much to the fine print of halacha as to the broad concepts that comprise the Jewish ethic. We believe firmly that that the love for G-d one may feel in his heart is inadequate; love must be demonstrated in the nitty-gritty of halachic demands.
Which makes the association between Har Sinai and Shemittah understandable. At least partially.
The opening passage of Parshas Behar, dedicated to the laws detailing observance of Shemittah, is introduced with the statement that these laws were given at Har Sinai. Being that all mitzvos were related at Har Sinai, this sort of declaration for one particular mitzvah appears odd. Rashi explains that Shemittah is chosen because it is a mitzvah that contains both broad principles as well as minutia, and the Torah is conveying that it was not only the general outline of the mitzvos that were given at Sinai, but all the individual details as well.
But then, couldn’t the same be said of all mitzvos? Couldn’t every mitzvah both be painted in broad strokes and also analyzed for all the small details it contains? Aren’t eating matzah, honoring parents, or giving tzedakah also replete with fine details? Why Shemittah, specifically?
Parshas Bechukosai contains the infamous Tochacha, the rebuke ominously presented to the Jewish People describing all the punishments that will befall them should they veer from Hashem’s expectations of them. Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky notes that the Torah identifies not one specific sin, but two, as responsible for triggering the Tochacha.
The Torah introduces the Tochacha with the words “אם בחקותי תמאסו—If you will reject My laws. (26:15)” From Rashi’s analysis of the first words of the parsha, we know that the term בחקותי refers to engaging in Torah study, suggesting that a lack of Torah study is the reason for the nation being punished.
Yet later on (26:34), the Torah describes how the barren state of the Land following the punishments of the Tochacha will allow the Land to “recoup” its lost Shemittah years that went unobserved. So which is it? Does the Tochacha come about because of laxity in Torah study, or due to violation of the mandate of Shemittah and refraining from agricultural work every seventh year?
Rav Yaakov explains that it is both. What happens when one lets his land lie fallow? What does he do with all the time ordinarily spent out in the field? Towards what endeavor does one now channel all the energies usually expended on wringing produce from his field? The answer must be Torah study. For six long years, he’s worked and labored. Due to the realities of agricultural work, the farmer likely had little time to dedicate to understanding Hashem’s Torah. But now the opportunity has presented itself. How will he now spend his time?
Chazal say that a person’s true mettle may be detected in three ways—בכוסו, בכיסו, ובכעסו—through his drinking, through his wallet, and through his anger (Eruvin 65b). Where in one’s wallet—one’s expenditures—do we find sufficient grounds for sizing him up as a person? It’s on the margins. Two people in the same neighborhood will largely have the same expenses. Their resources will overwhelmingly go towards food, gas, and mortgage. What differentiates one from the other is in what remains. How’s the rest spent? On the functional or the frivolous?
The same goes for time. Time is easily gobbled up on work, family, and religious obligations. The true test is in what remains, the excess. How many hours are spent on hobbies and relaxation, how many hours are spent on family and spiritual enrichment? How many hours over a sefer, how many hours in front of a screen?
In giving the farmer a year off, a year of forced vacation, the Torah’s assumption is that that time will be used wisely. That in creating that measure of excess time, the farmer will go back to the fields not only having spent more time in the hammock, but having spent more time in the Bais Medrash. Will his greatest achievement be the number of masechtos he’s learned, or the number of novels he’s read?
Shemittah is the Torah’s example of a mitzvah that was given at Sinai—the place where the covenant between Hashem and His People was solidified—because it is representative of the relationship as a whole. If we truly love another person, we’ll make time for them. It is understandable that the bulk of our day will be dedicated to other necessary pursuits, but if we’re not making time at the margins, in the excess, it says something about our dedication at large.
The same is true of our relationship with Hashem. It is not only the כלל, the general principle, that counts, but the פרט, the individual detail. That the vast majority of the farmer’s life needs to be dedicated to cultivating his farmland makes perfect sense. But what about the excess, the seventh year, when he’s freed up? Does that window of opportunity get squandered by habit, or does he really make it count?
It’s easy to give a general glance and see everything as fine. How much time really exists for more Torah, more chessed, more tefillah? But if we look at the particulars, there’s surely more we can accomplish. Five or ten minutes here and there. Days when we’re off from work. Vacation time that can be leveraged towards a bit of spiritual advancement. The פרטים, the details, of Shemittah is what the Torah wants to highlight. The details of our lives is oftentimes where the greatest growth can be achieved.