This week’s parashah introduces the commandment of a sabbatical year, a time when the land is given a period of rest to recover. Following this comes the jubilee year, an additional year in which the land lies fallow.
For many of us the idea of leaving the land uncultivated would pose little real threat. Our cupboards are stocked and we have access to abundant resources. We could be sustained for some time without stepping foot inside a supermarket, let alone relying directly on the land.
But for our Israelite ancestors, who did not have access to such modern conveniences, this commandment caused not just an inconvenience but a time of deep trepidation.
The jubilee year meant that a single harvest had to last three years, the current year, the sabbatical year and the jubilee year that followed. Their lives depended entirely on forces beyond their control, on crops at the mercy of nature, and of God. For even with the greatest care a bout of bad weather could devastate the yield, leaving them barren for three years. This was not merely an inconvenience; it was a source of profound anxiety.
A midrash reflects on how the Israelites may have reacted to such a test of faith. It teaches that when a person sees their field abandoned, they should supress their passions and not speak to show true strength. For as we are taught in in Pirkei Avot (4:1): “Who is mighty? One who subdues their passion.”
Faced with such uncertainty it would have been natural for the Israelites to cry out in fear, or even to defy God’s orders and work the land. To relinquish control required immense faith, the belief that they would survive the period of hardship, and that God would provide.
Though most of us are not farmers, the emotional experience is familiar. We know what it is to feel overwhelmed, to react in a moment of panic when we are confronted with a crisis, to grasp for control when it feels beyond our reach.
The jubilee year teaches us that true strength lies not in immediate action, but in restraint, in the ability to take a step back, to suppress the passions that swell inside us and to trust. In doing so, we might cultivate a stronger relationship with God and a deeper understanding of ourselves.
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