Behar-Bechukotai 5772

This week’s double parsha begins with the mitzvah of shemitah (sabbatical year), the commandment to leave fields fallow for an entire year, every seven years. This is a tremendous test of the farmer’s faith in G-d that there will be enough food to sustain him and his family during the seventh and eighth years of the agricultural cycle.

Torah interrupts its discussion of shemitah to introduce the prohibition of onaah, wrongdoing. “When you sell to your fellow or buy from your fellow, do not wrong each other…And you shall not wrong, one man his fellow, and you shall fear your G-d, for I am the L-rd, your G-d.”

Why does Torah introduce the prohibition of onaah in the midst of laws about shemitah? If the first prohibition refers to behavior during sales and purchases, what form of onaah does the second address?

Rabbi Yissocher Frand cites the Beis Av who explains that the point of shemitah is to remind us that what we have, and how much we have of it, comes from G-d.  By extension, there can be no point of cheating. Writes Rabbi Frand: “A person may think that he can beat the game. He may think that his underhanded methods will bring him additional money that he would not have otherwise. But if he honestly believes that everything comes from G-d, he certainly cannot expect to outsmart Him…In the end, the bottom line will be what G-d wants it to be.”

The commentators interpret the second verse as referring to the prohibition of onaat devarim, doing harm with one’s words. Why does this injunction appear in the midst of laws about shemitah? Rabbi Frand makes this connection: “The motivation behind snide remarks is really a lack of satisfaction with one’s own portion in life. It reflects an insufficient trust and faith in G-d.”  When we speak badly about a person, it is just as if we have cheated him in a business transaction – we have diminished him in order to enrich ourselves.  The verse concludes with “I am the L-rd, your G-d” in order to remind us that only G-d has the ultimate say on one’s portion in life.

Talmud (Bava Metzia 58b) provides examples of onaat devarim. One is not permitted to remind a penitent of past transgressions. To a person who has rectified his behavior, such a reminder can be painful and embarrassing. As parents, we should keep this in mind when speaking to our children, or when sharing humorous stories about them. No child is comfortable recalling how difficult he was as a toddler; no young adult wants herself or others to hear about the trouble she got into as a teen. Once children have matured and moved beyond old behaviors there is no need to embarrass them with outdated stories.

Behar 5771

This week's parsha begins with the mitzvah of shemittah (the Sabbatical year), which commands that every seventh year in Israel, the land must be left uncultivated. "When you come to the Land that I am giving you, the Land should rest a Sabbath to G-d. You may sow your field for six years, and for six years you may prune your vineyard and gather its produce, but in the seventh year, the Land should have a complete rest, a Sabbath to G-d."

The parsha gets its name, Behar, which means "on the mountain," from its opening. "G-d spoke to Moshe at Mount Sinai." This is puzzling. We know that G-d gave all of the commandments at Mount Sinai. Why does the verse emphasize that the mitzvah of shemittah is given at Mount Sinai?

The laws of shemittah are an excellent way to prove that no human being could have written the Torah, or invented the laws of Judaism. Only G-d could have done this, from Mount Sinai. Shemittah sounds illogical and impractical. The seventh year, we cannot till the ground, plant for the following year or harvest what has already grown. Essentially, this means that what we harvest the sixth year must last for three years (the sixth, the seventh, and the eighth, since we do not work the land in the seventh.)

It seems that G-d anticipates our concern, our natural tendency to worry. "When you will say, 'what will we eat in the seventh year, if we will not sow, and we will not gather our produce from the crops which grow on their own?' I will direct My blessing to you in the sixth year and it will yield produce [sufficient] for three years." G-d tells us, "Do not worry. Trust Me. If you are patient and trust Me, I will sustain you."

It is a great test to maintain trust in G-d. We must trust that all obstacles will disappear in due time – if we believe in G-d and that He is in control. We must consciously decide to release ourselves from the pressures of our natural tendency to worry. The great Chassidic master, the Baal Shem Tov, says that fear creates walls around us that bar the light from shining through. We must consciously banish the fear and open ourselves to trust.

As parents, it is natural to worry about our children, no matter how old they are. Knowing this, Jewish law urges us to take precautions: for example, the Talmud (Kiddushin 29a) obligates us to teach our children to swim; Torah in Parashat Ki Tetze requires us to fence our rooftops. Modern law insists upon seatbelts and recommends helmets. But after all is said and done, and we have provided all we can for our children's welfare, we should not waste time and energy worrying about what may happen to our children. We only plant the seeds and nurture the plants; the rest is up to G-d.