The Holy Secret Inside ‘Six-Seven’

My son Shaya loves saying “Six-Seven.” He says it often, with full confidence, as if everyone in the room is supposed to understand exactly what it means.

If you are a parent, teacher, or have been around children recently, you probably know exactly what I am talking about. It is one of those strange little trends that appears from nowhere, takes over the world for a few minutes, and makes adults feel very old.

And to be honest, every time I hear him say this incredibly ridiculous phrase, I do feel a little older. I am reminded of the fact that I am now an “old person” who just doesn’t get it.

However, the Baal Shem Tov taught us that everything a person sees or hears is a lesson in serving G-d. Nothing is random. If something enters our world, even something small, even something that seems silly, there is a message we can learn from it.

Not because every trend is deep on its own. But because Torah teaches us to search for the spark of truth and the message from G-d inside everything we see and hear.

The truth is that this week’s Torah portion of Behar is all about “Six-Seven”.

As I was learning the Torah reading, I could not help but think about this strange little phrase that actually describes the very rhythm with which the world itself was built.

Six days of creation. Then the seventh day of Shabbos. Six days of work. Then the seventh day of rest.

And in this week’s Torah portion, that rhythm is brought into the land of Israel itself.

We are introduced to the mitzvah of Shmita, the sabbatical year. Just as every seventh day is Shabbos, every seventh year in the Land of Israel is a year of rest for the land. For six years, the farmer works hard. He plows, plants, hopes, harvests, sells, and then starts all over again.

But then comes the seventh year when G-d says the land must rest. The farmer steps back. And the field is no longer a place of business. It becomes a place of faith. An expression of absolute trust in G-d.

Six. Seven.

If you pay attention to how the Torah tells us about this Mitzvah, you will notice something strange. The verse begins, “When you come into the land I am giving you, the land shall rest, a Shabbos for G-d.”  (Lev. 25:2)

Only afterward does the next verse say, “Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard. But in the seventh year, the land shall have a complete rest…”

That seems backwards. If the rest only happens after six years of work, why did the Torah introduce the idea of rest first? The order should reflect reality: first six years of work, and then, the seventh year of rest.

The Rebbe explains how the Torah is teaching us what our goal must be from the very beginning.

Yes, there will be six years of work. There must be. Judaism does not tell a person to float above life and ignore his responsibility. We will need to work. We will need to build, pay bills, plant seeds, answer emails, and find creative ways to take care of our families. And then we will need to find the money to cover tuition, the mortgage, payroll, and groceries.

But the Jew must know, from the very first moment he enters the land, that the six is already connected to the seven.

The six years are not separate from the Shmita year. They are not six years of stress followed by one year of holiness. They are six years that are meant to be shaped by the seventh. The faith of the sabbatical year must enter our working years too.

That is a very deep idea.

Because most of us live in the six.

We live in the weekday world. A world of pressure, noise, effort, and responsibility. So we tell ourselves that one day we will be calm. One day, after things settle down, we will have inner peace. After the house is paid off and the children are older. After this project is finished and that crisis passes, then we will breathe.

But the Torah says no. Don’t wait until the seventh year to discover your inner calm. Bring the seventh into the six.

Do not wait until Friday night to remember that G-d runs the world. Bring Shabbos into Monday.

Do not wait until everything is perfect to have trust. Bring trust into the mess you have now.

This does not mean that a person should not work hard or plan responsibly. The Torah tells us to work the land for six years. In Judaism, work is holy. Taking responsibility for our financial future is not a lack of faith.

But responsibility is not the same as worry.

A person can work very hard and still carry an inner calm. A person can build a business, raise a family, run a home, and carry many responsibilities, while still knowing that his life is held together by G-d.

Which is why the Torah places “the land shall rest” before “six years you shall plant.”

Before you enter the field, know why you are entering it. Before you begin the work, know who gives you blessing.

Before you face the six, place the seven in your heart.

As the Rebbe explains it, this Mitzvah is not only for the land of Israel, but it’s deeply relevant for every Jewish home.

When a couple begins building a family, or as you try to shape the energy felt inside your home, the first question should not be “How will we pay for everything?”

The first question to ask is “What kind of spirit will live here?” Will this be a home where the peace and serenity of Shabbos teaches the whole week how to breathe? A home where a Shabbos-energy is felt all week long?

Our homes will still have bills, deadlines, carpool, homework, and a never-ending list of things to do. But from the beginning of it all, we know that G-d is here.

That is Shmita. That is Shabbos. That is seven entering the six.

Because the Jewish way is not to escape the six. It is to sanctify it.

To work, but without becoming owned by work. To plan, but with trust. To build, but without forgetting where the blessings really come from.

And when Shabbos comes, do not treat it as a break from real life. Shabbos is not an escape from reality. Shabbos is the ultimate truth of life.

It is the weekly reminder that beneath all our effort, there is deeper peace. Beneath all our doing, there is a soul. Beneath all our work, there is G-d’s blessing.

So, the next time you hear a child in your life say “six-seven” for the thousandth time, let it remind you of something holy.

Six and seven inherently belong together.

May we bring the faith of Shmita into the labor of our hands, the calm of Shabbos into the work of our week, and the presence of G-d into every corner of our homes.

That is the gift of seven inside six.

Good Shabbos!

Rabbi Yankie & Chana Denburg