Leviticus 25-27
On the mountain of Sinai, God communicates to Moses the laws of the sabbatical year. Every seventh year, all work on the land should cease, and its produce becomes free for the taking for all, man and beast.
Seven sabbatical cycles are followed by a fiftieth year — the jubilee year, on which work on the land ceases, all indentured servants are set free, and all ancestral estates in the Holy Land that have been sold revert to their original owners.
This passage also contains additional laws governing the sale of lands, and the prohibitions against fraud and usury.
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Filed under: Weekly Readings
This week’s passage lays out perhaps the most socially radical element in the Scripture, the laws of the Sabbatical and Jubilee years. Paralleling our personal rest and liberation from work every seven days on Sabbath, we are commanded every seventh year to cease our productivity, our work, and not only to rest ourselves, but also to allow the land to rest, to return to its natural, primordial, un-worked state.
In the Jubilee year, the 50th year which completes seven sabbatical cycles, not only is the land allowed to rest and return to its natural un-worked state, but society rests as well, returning to its natural primordial state of equality and liberation. In the Jubilee year, all slaves go free, and every person returns to his ancestral holdings (Leviticus 25:13-17).
Radical Redistribution
As landownership was the foundation of economic and political power in ancient Israel, the Scripture mandates a radical and equitable redistribution of wealth and power every 50 years. Rest, return (to a primordial state), and liberation are then all achieved, personally, naturally, and socially, through the trinity of Sabbath, Sabbatical year, and Jubilee.
What is it that allows this return and liberation? What is it that makes possible this radical redistribution? One of the Scripture’s central insights is the ultimate lack of human authority over personal (Sabbath), natural (Sabbatical Year), and social (Jubilee) entities–all are owned only by God.
We are told in this passage that “the land must not be sold beyond reclaim, for the land is Mine, you are but strangers and residents with me (Leviticus 25:23).” Similarly, Israelite slaves must be freed in the Jubilee year for “they are My slaves, whom I freed from the land of Egypt; they may not give themselves over to servitude (Leviticus 25:42).”
Land, property, other people, and even one’s own self can never truly be controlled by any human, for there is already a divine lien on every object and every person. God ultimately owns them all and has the power, through restricting their sale, purchase, or use (such as commanding rest on the Sabbath), to decide their fate.
Our Money is not Our Own
The radical result of this underlying fact is that the Jubilee year does not require one to return that which he has acquired, for in fact he has never truly acquired it and only acts as steward over it to the extent that he follows divine law.
So too, a person’s obligation to give charity is not an obligation to give ten percent of her income to those who need it. That ten percent was in fact never hers, and she is only entitled to use the remaining 90 percent of what she earns after she has distributed the requisite ten percent. This underlying sense of divine ownership is the basis for the biblical vision of responsibility and transforms our own understanding of obligation.
Our obligation to give ten percent, or to attempt to achieve the radical redistribution described in this week’s passage, then cannot be limited by our own needs or desires (we give ten percent if we have enough left over), but is what defines whether we, in fact, have any moral right to that which we think we possess.
Every Land and Every People
Despite the surface meaning of this week’s passage, this obligation does not only apply to the land of Israel or to other Jews. Rather, in view of why the Scripture begins with the creation of the world instead of with the first commandment, it does so in order to make clear that all people on earth, and the entire world itself, are literally creatures, created by God and therefore at God’s disposal to do with as God wishes.
When God says “the land is Mine” and “they are My slaves,” this is true of every land and every people. This rejection of ultimate human authority is then global in reach, and the equalizing mandated in our passage operates not only between family units in Israel but between social units the world over, between the Global North and the Global South, and effectively demands a return of the entire world to its primordial equality.
Our challenge, then, as we decide how much to give and how much to contribute is not to consider how much of what we own we can afford to give up, but rather to ask what we must give to be able to say that we have any entitlement, no matter how limited, to what we in fact possess.
Our challenge is to ask this question from the deeper realization that nothing we possess is truly ours. It is all on loan from the Divine which permits our use of it only insofar as we live up to divine responsibilities in that use.
It is this realization, and the actions that flow from it, that truly leads to the liberation of both the giver and the receiver and that allows the possibility that one day we will hear the trumpets blow for the Jubilee to “proclaim liberty throughout the land (Leviticus 25:9-10).”
Citizens or Strangers?
God makes an intriguing statement in the opening chapter of the first passage:
“The Land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is Mine; for you are strangers and sojourners with Me” (25:23).
He has accomplished a mighty feat in bringing His people to the Land He had promised them, and the God of Israel is now making it unequivocally clear that the Land remains His. They are to remain ‘strangers and sojourners’ – as were their forefathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. The final two words of the verse, ‘with Me’, present us with a clue to the solution of the paradox. He is indicating that the goal of their miraculous arrival and possession of the Land of Promise was not the Land itself, it is rather to be viewed as the place God had chosen as His dwelling place. It was a place to be ‘with God’. Their unwavering focus and devotion were to remain primarily and fully upon the One Who promised – the Landowner Himself.
God did not give the revelation of Himself and the gift of His Torah in the land of milk and honey but in the wilderness at Mount Sinai. This was to be a reminder that the true home of their hearts was not the Land itself but the Kingdom over which He was King. Before their love for, and commitment to, the Land promised as their eternal inheritance, they were to be loyal citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven. This poses a similar challenge to us today, as it has through the centuries since Sinai: Where does the deepest loyalty of our hearts lie? Of which kingdom are we a citizen?
Once we enter the Kingdom of God, and wholeheartedly accepted His Kingship in Jesus Christ, we too are set free from the Pharaohs of this world. In the embrace of our Father in Heaven, no other power may legitimately lay claim to our lives. In a very real sense we become ‘strangers’ in this world. We can no longer identify with the ideals and rules of any society that is in conflict with the ways and commandments of God. In fact, as stated by Lawrence S. Kushner:
“The measure by which one feels oneself distant, alien, a stranger in this world of lies, by that measure does one feel close to Heaven. And the opposite is also true.”
The mastery of the world is an illusion. Reality is measured in relation to one’s proximity to Heaven – to God. The goal of repentance is to turn away from the bondages of this world, from the ‘slave-drivers’ who ‘lord it over’ their subjects, and to enter the freedom and peace of serving one’s true Master – the Father and Creator of all.
How then do we Walk?
“If you walk in My statutes (b’chukotai) and keep my commandments (mitzvot) and perform them (26:3)… I will walk among you and be your God” (26:12).
“And after all this, if you do not obey Me but walk contrary to Me then I will walk contrary to you in fury; and I, even I, will chastise you seven times for your sins” (26:27-28).
The repetition of the verb ‘walk’ in the opening section of this final passage in the book of Leviticus emphasizes the concept of movement in relation to obeying the statutes and commandments of God. There is a movement and change that occurs in one’s spirit in accord with the physical choices one makes and the direction one takes in life. It is a movement closer towards or further away from God.
In the light of the above, the question is raised: “How then do we walk in His statutes and keep His commandments?” How do our actions comply with God’s will? Walking indicates forward movement. It is a conscious action, one step following the previous step and each step brings us closer to our final destination. The key to the journey is to ensure that one is moving in the right direction. Each step is therefore an action that brings us into greater fulfillment of our identity as a child of the Holy God, or it can lead us further away.
David Blumenthal comments on the writings of Levi Yitzchak regarding the definition of a “spiritual” act, or an action performed according to the will of God:
“To qualify as spiritual, an act must be done only because God commanded it… a deed must be an act of obedience, of servanthood. The only justification for doing any religious deed is that God wants us to do it.” [2]
This is, indeed, a difficult concept for those immersed in the modern, independent, “My way or the highway!” approach to living. Everything is judged on the basis of: “What do I think is right?” “What suits me?” The ‘little me’ attempts to over-rule the ‘great I AM’ and then wonders why it is suffering in a ditch of disappointment and despair.
David the Psalmist, the sweet singer of Israel, depicts the beauty, serenity and strength of the bond between a shepherd and his sheep as he leads them to green pastures and still waters. He describes the Lord as the shepherd, and himself – and, by extension, all who know His voice and follow Him – as His sheep. The Good Shepherd leads us in paths of righteousness for His Name’s sake. And even though we walk through valleys darkened by the shadow of death, we need have no fear for the Shepherd is with us. His rod and staff comfort and protect us.
The rod and staff are tools used by a shepherd for guidance and correction, and for protection and prevention of harmful attack by predators. A sheep that needs correction might not understand the sharp prod that will prevent it from taking the wrong path. However, if it humbly responds to the shepherd’s rod, it will remain on the sure path, safe from harm and secure in the shepherd’s care.