Embracing Rest: D’Var Torah by  Rabbi Andy Gordon

I can only imagine what it was like to be an Israelite. Our ancestors, after centuries of slavery and imprisonment, were finally free. But that freedom came with a cost: they needed to spend 40 years wandering in the wilderness. Life was not easy; there was lack of food, scarce water, surprise attacks, and much infighting. Even still, I believe what was most difficult for the Israelites was uncertainty about what the future held. The Israelites couldn’t fathom what life would look like once they entered the Land of Israel. This week, we receive a glimpse of what the next chapter would entail. In Leviticus 25:4-5, the Torah teaches us about the Sabbatical year, when every seventh year the fields lay fallow:
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 Adonai: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard. You shall not reap the aftergrowth of your harvest or gather the grapes of your untrimmed vines; it shall be a year of complete rest for the land.
How exciting that our ancestors received a forecast of their future lives! They would become farmers, with the ability to sow and plow their own fields. I imagine that this was beyond their wildest dreams! After years of enslavement and wandering from place to place, they realized that they would soon possess a field to farm and a place to call home. Yet, with this vision also came great uncertainty. For six years, they would find sustenance by plowing their fields, but what about the seventh year? What were they supposed to eat during that year if they were unable to sow or grow crops? How would they be able to make this new reality work? Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger, a 19th century Chassidic rabbi known by his major work “The Sefat Emet,” addresses this very question! He teaches that when our ancestors were about to receive the Torah on Mount Sinai, they were prepared to become like the angels. The name for an angel is mal’akh which can also mean messenger. The role of an angel is to listen to the message of God. Angels have no possessions and have only one role: to listen while being fully present. Our ancestors hoped to live this way too. Unfortunately, the sin of the Golden Calf changed this trajectory. We learned quickly that we were not angels! Instead, we recognized that we were human beings with human frailties. The Sefat Emet connects these thoughts to our lives today. Even with our human nature and the ability to make mistakes, we too possess the capability to be angelic. Each week, on Shabbat, we can seize the opportunity to put everything aside and to be just like the angels. Like them, we can spend Shabbat resting and doing holy things. Although we can’t eat manna like the angels, our Shabbat meal can still be something special and holy. The Sabbatical year is an entire year we can be like the angels. Like them, we are asked not to work, plant, or harvest. According to the Sefas Emet, this is the answer to the Israelites’ question: “What are we going to eat during the seventh year?” During this year, we become angelic and live in a world filled with miracles. Like the angels, the Sabbatical year can become a time filled with abundant blessings. Now, I don’t personally believe that God provided our ancestors with an additional yield of blessings during the seventh year. I think this misses the miracle! I hold the view that the sabbatical year was an opportunity to recognize our blessings and become more angelic. How incredible would it be if every seventh year (or even better, once every seven days) we did our best to be like the angels? What would that look like? Like the angels, we would be able to listen more intently and be fully present. Like the angels, we would be able to see the abundance that surrounds us. Like the angels, we wouldn’t focus on the minutiae or be distracted by mundane things like planting, sowing, or pruning. Instead, we’d focus our time on what matters most: family, friendship, justice, and community. At this moment, so many of us are filled with uncertainty about the future. Instead of fear, may we take time to search for the many blessings that surround us.