There is a mitzvah discussed at the very beginning of this week's parshah that will soon be upon us in the land of Israel.  This mitzvah is the mitzvah of shemittah.  And today I want to begin by exploring this concept.

Shemittah is the commandment by the Torah to let the land lie fallow, unused, every seventh year.  On shemittah no one is able to sell their crops, the land, so to speak, returns to its original wild, state.

But when we discuss the concept of shemittah, we are not just referring to the specific commandment not to harvest your land in the seventh year, but also to a whole slew of related commandments.  First, there is also a concept known as shemittat kesafim--on the seventh year, according to biblical law, all loans that were previously lent out are declared null and void.  All debtors are absolved.  So too, with respect to the seventh year there is another concept and that is that anyone who was purchased as a slave is required to be set free in his seventh year of servitude.

So we see that surrounding the seventh year in Judaism there is a concept of freedom.  We are obligated to free our lands from work and free our debtors and free our slaves.  But we should ask ourselves, why does God command us to observe this mitzvah of shemittah?  What is the reason why we are not permitted to work the land on the seventh year?
 The Sefer Ha-Chinuch (a thirteenth c. Spanish work, probably authored by R. Pinchas Ha-Levi of Barcelona) offers two reasons for this mitzvah of shemittah.

First, kedei she-yizkor ha-adam ki ha-aretz she-motziah elav ha-perot be-khol shanah ve-shanah lo kochah u-segualatah totsi otam.  The reason for this mitzvah is so that humanity should remember that the fruits that are produced from the ground every year do not come from man's power or even the power of nature, but rather yesh adon aleah ve-al adoneah, there is a a God and true master over the land.

So the first explanation of this mitzvah according to the Sefer Ha-Chinuch is that its purpose is to cause us to understand that man is not the powerful one on this earth, but that God controls all power.  We leave the land untouched as a demonstration of our weakness and as a sign of servitude to God.

And this is what the pasuk means (25: 2), when it says ve-shavtah ha-aretz shabbat lashem, and you shall let the land rest, it is a shabbat for God.  Shemittah is a way of physically declaring that only God is the one who has power on this world.

But Sefer Ha-Chinuch also continues with a second answer:  liknot bazeh midat ha-vatranut, ki ein nadiv ka-noten mi-beli tikvah el- hagemul. Another purpose of this mitzvah is to to attain through it the quality of yielding and relinquishing.  Because there is no one so generous as a person who gives with no hope of receiving anything in return.

So according to this second approach, God commands us to relinquish all our possessions in order for us to understand what it means to really give.  People don't naturally know what it means to give charity, people have to be trained in this respect.  So God commands us, every seventh year, leave all your lands open to the poor, cancel all your debts, release all your slaves.  Learn from this example what it means to give to those in your community who are in need.

And this is what the pasuk means when it says (25: 6), ve-haytah shabbat ha-aretz lachem, and the land shall rest for you.  The land rests so that you, the people of Israel can grow and learn what it means to give and behave within a society.

So shemittah, according to the author of Sefer Ha-Chinuch, is an attempt by God to train us in these two areas: recognizing the power of God in this world and learning how to give to a community.

Now this twofold approach to shemittah is an approach that I found particularly helpful to me on a personal level this week.  And I want to share with you why I think it might be helpful to our whole community.

This past week was a very difficult one for our community.  Our community this week joins with the whole Satosky family, with Judy, Beverly, and Isaaac, in mourning the passing of Reb Stuie Saatosky, aged 42 and father to two young children.  In fact, its been a difficult few weeks for our community, as our community is still reeling from the taking of our friend Reb Tuvia Rome, just a few days before Pesach.

And so, I want to open a discussion on this very difficult topic with you today.  And I will say at the very beginning, that my thoughts on this matter are surely incomplete and unsatisfactory, and I am also sure that they will not be able to be a nechamah, a comfort, to those who are grieving.  But I believe they offer an opening into beginning to understand why God allows sickness to remain on this earth.

But what I can not do today--in no way, shape or form--is even begin to explain individual situations or specific stories.  In those matters, I believe God's ways will always be infinitely sealed to us.  So all we can do today is discuss in very general terms, why God allows sickness and terrible diseases to enter the world?  Why does God allow Cancer and AIDS and why does he allow them to remain with his Godly creatures on earth?

And what I would like to suggest is that this mitzvah of shemittah expresses in imatatio dei a system that God himself had already set up in this world.

For perhaps one reason why God allows the entire concept of sickness and tragedy in this world is in a very general sense to hold in check man's power in this world.  Look around us.  Wherever we look we see examples of humanity's great power.  The human being is the ultimate creative genius.  We have invented ways to fly, to drive, to produce surpluses of food.  On the one hand our power seems limitless and uncontrollable.

And the danger in having such great power is that we can easily become too full of ourselves.  Our power will be endless, we will have no humility, and will easily forget about our lowly status in this world.

So God allows sickness as a means of giving us the ultimate dose of humility.  With all our great power we still can't control disease and tragic events.  And make no mistake, each generation has their own disease that will hit them.  When we conquered malaria, we got polio, when we defeated Polio we got AIDS.

So that's one reason why disease exists: to teach man humility.  But there is another reason as well.  And this second reason relates to the second explanation of shemittah.  We as individuals have to learn what it means to live as a society.  This is what the concept of shmeittah is about.  And in many ways, this is what the idea of sickness teaches us.  We have with us in this world terrible diseases:  parkinsons, cancer, heart disease--The challenge of every generation is to bond together and to try to wipe out these diseases.  For as individuals we stand no chance of beating the disease, but as a community when we pool our resources we are able to devise cures and treatments.

And so too, if there is any response that is at all salutary when sickness strikes--it is community.  For when sickness strikes, the only response is community coming together and offering communal support, helping those in need.  And we as a community can be particularly proud of the way we respond when families are hit with illness and tragedy.

So perhaps God allowed sickness to remain in this world, in order to constantly remind us that our roles on this earth must be performed within a community and not as individuals, humanity can succeed only within a larger society.

So in this way the dual purpose of shemittah--limiting man's ego by making him realize God's power, and teaching us the concept of community--can also help us in trying to understand why God allows sickness to enter into this world: in order to lead man into living a life of humility and in order to inspire us to live within society.

Now I know this discussion doesn't even begin to comfort any grieving souls.  Nor does it even attempt to explain why specific individuals are singled out with terrible diseases.  But there are no answers to these questions.

This past Monday, Rabbi Sadin--a rabbi in the Bronx for over fifty two years--stood here on Monday in the middle of our beit kenesset--and shook his finger towards heaven.  He shook his finger to God and said, "God--I have a quarrel with you."  God, why did you take away the neshamah of our sweet, friend, Reb Stuie Satosky.

And I remember thinking at that moment that Rabbi Sadin was right.  I too, cannot fathom the mysteries of God's ways.  Why does God, the All Merciful, and the All Knowing, allow such terrible tragedies in this world.
 But maybe these observations about shemittah and sickness us will help us respond to sickness in general: To help us realize that we must walk humbly before God and bond together as a community.