Re-inventing the Sabbatical for our era (Behar-Behukotai)
דַּבֵּ֞ר אֶל־בְּנֵ֤י יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ וְאָמַרְתָּ֣ אֲלֵהֶ֔ם כִּ֤י תָבֹ֙אוּ֙ אֶל־הָאָ֔רֶץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר אֲנִ֖י נֹתֵ֣ן לָכֶ֑ם וְשָׁבְתָ֣ה הָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיהֹוָֽה׃
Speak to the Children of Israel and tell them: When you enter the land that I assign to you, the land shall observe God’s Shabbat.
שֵׁ֤שׁ שָׁנִים֙ תִּזְרַ֣ע שָׂדֶ֔ךָ וְשֵׁ֥שׁ שָׁנִ֖ים תִּזְמֹ֣ר כַּרְמֶ֑ךָ וְאָסַפְתָּ֖ אֶת־תְּבוּאָתָֽהּ׃
Six years you will sow your field and six years you will prune your vineyard and gather its yield.
וּבַשָּׁנָ֣ה הַשְּׁבִיעִ֗ת שַׁבַּ֤ת שַׁבָּתוֹן֙ יִהְיֶ֣ה לָאָ֔רֶץ שַׁבָּ֖ת לַיהֹוָ֑ה שָֽׂדְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִזְרָ֔ע וְכַרְמְךָ֖ לֹ֥א תִזְמֹֽר׃
But in the seventh year the land shall have a shabbat of complete rest, a God’s shabbat: you will not sow your field or prune your vineyard.
אֵ֣ת סְפִ֤יחַ קְצִֽירְךָ֙ לֹ֣א תִקְצ֔וֹר וְאֶת־עִנְּבֵ֥י נְזִירֶ֖ךָ לֹ֣א תִבְצֹ֑ר שְׁנַ֥ת שַׁבָּת֖וֹן יִהְיֶ֥ה לָאָֽרֶץ׃
You will not reap the aftergrowth of your harvest or gather the grapes of your untrimmed vines; it will be a year of complete rest for the land.
וְ֠הָיְתָ֠ה שַׁבַּ֨ת הָאָ֤רֶץ לָכֶם֙ לְאׇכְלָ֔ה לְךָ֖ וּלְעַבְדְּךָ֣ וְלַאֲמָתֶ֑ךָ וְלִשְׂכִֽירְךָ֙ וּלְתוֹשָׁ֣בְךָ֔ הַגָּרִ֖ים עִמָּֽךְ׃
But you may eat whatever the land during its sabbath will produce—you, your male and female servants, the hired and bound laborers who live with you,
(Vayikra/Leviticus 25:2-7)
Human beings have never worked harder than they do now; perhaps not physically harder, but certainly mentally. Each week we prove our worth to the soulless and heartless corporations that employ us us by clocking in for up to 60 hours of brain-burning work (often more, especially for lawyers.) We tote our smartphones and computers with us 24/7. We dare not miss an important message or risk making ourselves appear superfluous, lest our names be added to the next, predictable, corporate bloodletting.
Vacation? What a joke. For Americans especially, vacation means two grudgingly allocated weeks a year. And now it’s two weeks in which our smartphones and laptops accompany us to the beach … just in case. And there is always a case.
The Torah was far more progressive with its concept of labor law. For openers, it invented the radical notion of Shabbat, the idea that human beings, like God, need one day off each week during which to recharge their batteries.
We Jews had a hard time accepting this idea. A day off from making money was anathema to our nature. We had to be threatened with death by stoning if we did not enjoy a day of rest. I’m sure if God had offered Shabbat to the Italians or the French or the Irish they would have said “One day? How about two?”
Tragically, society is now back to a pre-Torah reality when there really is no time out. Not for Jews, not for anyone.
The Torah’s revolutionary ideas about respite, were not limited to a weekly day of rest. It also had a much grander vision for what we now call vacation. It is called Shnat Shmittah, the sabbatical year during which the agricultural fields get a year off to replenish their resources and, by extension, even human beings get a full year’s vacation every seventh year.
Yes, the Torah’s idea of vacation was not limited to allocating a yearly two weeks off, just long enough to pack a valise, unpack it and pack it again for the return flight. Instead, the Torah believed we should – other than on Shabbat and festivals – work hard for six years and then take an entire year off. Now THAT’S a vacation!
Stop for a moment and imagine what it might be like if you – over the course of your working life – could enjoy 7 or 8 complete years in which to do as you please. Or even do nothing. Those six years of labor would fly fast as you anticipate twelve months of angst-free self-indulgence.
I’d bet our life expectancy would increase, our physical and mental health would improve dramatically, and our dependence of pharmaceuticals and stimulants would greatly diminish if not disappear altogether.
Right now, such a grand vision for humanity is not realistic. Our economies are structured in a manner that makes this impossible. Nevertheless, there may be something that can be done that could alleviate some of the stress that afflicts us all.
What I’m suggesting is a Sabbatical every seven years or all R&D, and all introduction of new models and styles. Yes, every seventh year there would be no new models of cars, no new models of computers or cameras or smartphones, no new toys and games, no new styles of dress, no new restaurants or retail establishments. In other words, a complete and total standstill in human commercial creativity.
This would not mean the shutting down of factories and businesses. What it would mean is that they would could continue to manufacture and market last year’s car, last year’s dress, last year’s toy, last year’s laptop,
Think of how this might affect society as a whole. It would help cure us of needing – or worse yet craving and envying – the latest smartphone, the freshest shmattah, the newest toy, the must-have reservation at the most recent overpriced restaurant.
Such a sabbatical would have a massive salubrious effect on all of us. Jealousy, desperation, greed, striving that are so much a part of everyday life – so much a part of what drives our careers and ambition – would be mitigated by the 12 month absence of anything new to be jealous about, greedy for, or “worth” striving for.
Years ago, the introduction of the new Cadillac model would often occur on Rosh Hashanah. Nearly every synagogue would have its characters who would sneak off to see the new marvel and report this vital information back to the rest of the worshippers.
Such behavior appears quaint by comparison to our generation when the latest of everything appears instantly on our smartphones and laptops, turbocharging us to Amazon to place our order. People camp outside the Apple store for two days “needing” to be among the first to get their hands on the latest iPhone. And we Consider this normal. We admire the corporations that are able to generate and drive such compulsive behavior.
Which is why a sabbatical on new “stuff” would not only provide us with a one-year breather, it would also have a beneficial impact on the six years that follow. Having learned to live without the ‘newest’ thing for one full year, our return to the “must have” mindset will occur only gradually. And by the time the sixth year comes, we’ll be in no rush to buy the newest, knowing that we have 24 months during which to make that unnecessary purchase, or perhaps even not buy it at all.
It would well be that such a sabbatical on the “new and improved” could help retool our mindset away from unbridled consumerism and mindless ambition. It might help restore our interest in things of value, and in better ways to spend our lives. Who knows, maybe our universities will once again have students interested in philosophy, history, literature, art. Maybe smart people will once again be interested in becoming teachers.
And if you’ve read this far, may I suggest you also read my past blog on this parsha, “When too much is not enough” http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/parshat-behukotai-when-too-much-is-not-enough/ .
