Parashat Behar, Leviticus 25:1- 26:2

Too often in our society, when it comes to a choice between time and people, the latter loses.

One of my favorite books as a child was Cheaper by the Dozen, a memoir by a brother and sister who grew up in a family of twelve children. Other than the challenges of growing up in such a clan, what was most memorable about the memoir was the occupation of the parents. Frank and Lillian Gilbreth were motion experts. In fact, they were pioneers in the field and often used themselves and their children as subjects for their studies.

The Gilbreths broke down motion into 18 basic components. From this they were able to help bricklayers, typists, surgeons and others perform more effectively. Efficiency was the key. While much analysis has been done in getting people to work faster, working better and more efficiently was the focus for the Gilbreth husband and wife team. They viewed their concern as being the welfare of the worker rather than the bottom line of the business. They never forgot that they were dealing with people.

Too often in our society, when it comes to a choice between time and people, the latter loses. It is our own fault. We take on too much and are afraid to say "no" because it could cost us a promotion or even our jobs. Unfortunately, we train our children in the same manner, as we ferry them from one afterschool activity to another. Is it any wonder that stress-related ailments are taking their toll on children as well as adults?

Whether it is called hyper-parenting or over-parenting, the micromanaged child or the over-scheduled child, it means the same thing: a generation of children signed up in utero for the right preschool; primed for early brain development with Baby Einstein and the like; embarked on a scheduled life in babyhood with play groups in French immersion, kindergym and infant music sessions; enrolled in tutoring by the age of three; every school day book-ended with a loaded program of scheduled activities and organized games.

Anna Marie Owens, Back to Baby Basics, National Post, May 10, 2008

What we need is a different attitude to time, an attitude that is found in this week's parasha, Behar. Last week's portion introduced us to the importance of the number seven in terms of Shabbat, holidays and counting the Omer. This week, the concept is supersized. Instead of dealing with Shabbat as the seventh day of the week, we are introduced to a shnat shabbaton, a sabbatical year that occurs every seventh year. Six years you may sow your field and six years you may prune your vineyard and gather in the yield. But in the seventh year the land shall have a sabbath of complete rest, a sabbath of the Lord…it shall be a year of complete rest for the land. But you may eat whatever the land during its sabbath will produce… (Leviticus 25:3, 7)

Beyond this, there is also the concept of seven times seven years (similar to the seven times seven weeks of counting the Omer). The counting of weeks is followed by Shavuot on the fiftieth day, the counting of years is followed by the Yovel, the Jubilee in the fiftieth year: And you shall count seven sabbaths of years to you, seven times seven years; and the space of the seven sabbaths of years shall be to you forty and nine years. Then shall you cause the shofar to sound on the tenth day of the seventh month, in the Day of Atonement shall you sound the shofar throughout all your land. (Leviticus 25:8-9) Sifra explains that just as we formally count the days of the Omer, so too the priests were to count each year until the Yovel. Clearly, it was something to be anticipated.

On the Jubilee, land reverted to its original holder, and indentured servants were set free. In addition, the land was to remain fallow:

Leviticus 25 demands that the land, like the people, have a Shabbat in the fiftieth year (in addition to every seventh year). Such legislation symbolizes the intimate bond between the Land of Israel, the people, and God.

The Torah: A Women's Commentary, p. 751

Most interesting is how the beginning of the Yovel is heralded by the sounding of the shofar on Yom Kippur. Sforno teaches that sounding the shofar on the Jubilee is sign of joy because slaves are set free and the land returns to its original holders. Saadia Gaon created a "top ten list" for what the shofar represents. Rambam's explanation of the shofar as awakening our morality is found in the Mahzor, the High Holy Day prayerbook:

Wake up, wake up, you sleepers, wake up from your sleep! Sleepers, wake up from your napping and examine your deeds, return in teshuvah, and remember your Creator! Those of you who forget the truth in your playing around with the latest frivolousness, spending all year in vanity and meaningless things, which neither profits nor saves you, you, look to your souls, improve your ways and works. Abandon the path which is bad and get rid of all your vain goals.

(translation from Kolel website)

Probably the most common connection we make is between the shofar and the story of the Akedah, the binding of Isaac. The Mahzor also explains that the shofar is not solely a wakeup call for us. It is also a reminder to God of what nearly happened to Isaac, and how God was roused to mercy. Somehow, as pawn in the Akedah which was a test of Abraham, Isaac not only came close to losing his life but his humanity as well. The shofar serves as a reminder to step back, take time out, reassess the situation, and redress wrongs. It cries out to remember that you are dealing with people, not goals, objectives, numbers, statistics, or the bottom line, but relationships.

The shofar on the Jubilee deals with more than space, the land that is redeemed. The shofar is a symbol of time. Blowing the shofar on the Jubilee teaches us that dealing with the bonds of God, land and people takes more than one day, even if that day is Yom Kippur. Think of what could be accomplished if you were to take an entire year to devoting as much energy on focusing on human interactions as you normally devote to your occupation. Both the sabbatical and the Jubilee point the way: it is all a matter of time, of setting aside time.

Fortunately, some modern trends are changing.

There is evidence -- in the parks, the play-dates, the homework schedules and even Hollywood magazines -- that the end is at least near for the pattern of modern parenting that has in recent years dictated highly scheduled lives for children and spawned the species described as helicopter parents.
It can be found in the stories of mothers at playgrounds and schools, who no longer spend so much of their days scurrying their children from one activity to another; in the experiences of parents who successfully lobbied Canada's largest school board to introduce a radical policy that bans homework on holidays and sets limits for work; in the shelves of the nation's bookstores, no longer filled with sprawling racks of angst-filled tomes about how to make a better baby, but smaller now and more likely devoted to simpler topics such as play.

Anna Marie Owens, Back to Baby Basics, National Post, May 10, 2008

The key is simplicity. Trends are changing not only in how we raise our children, but in some other basics of life: for example, in how we eat. The rise of the slow food movement is a sign of this. Respect for the land and those who till the soil is evident in the "One Hundred Mile Diet" or "eating locally."

I am reminded of a classic Twilight Zone episode called Time Enough at Last in which Henry Bemis, an avid bookworm, just wanted time to read. He found out that when he pressed a stopwatch time actually stopped around him and he could indulge himself. Tragically, when the watch got stuck, and time stopped forever, his glasses broke; and his paradise turned to hell. Bemis got it wrong by trying to impose his will on time. It is the time we share with others that is a priceless gift.

Shabbat shalom,
MS