Yovel and Reclamation — Kendell Pinkney
Over the last six-months give or take, there has been a proliferation of op-eds, think pieces, studies and reports chronicling the rampant burnout of this interminable Covid-era. In several cases, as one scrolls through the usual media outlets, it seems as if too many individuals exist at one of two extremes: either they are without sufficient work, or they are grossly overworked by both job and/or childcare. Despite the distinctly contemporary contour of this problem, many Jewishly minded individuals have turned to the concept of shemitah as a heuristic for approaching our modern lives.
We encounter shemitah (literally, “to release” in Biblical Hebrew) in the first of this week’s two portions, Behar-Bechukotai. According to the Leviticus 25:2-7, the Israelites are given the following directive for how they should engage with their land when they eventually enter it in some unspecified future:
When you enter the land that I assign to you, the land shall observe a sabbath of the Lord. Six years you may sow your field and six years you may prune your vineyard and gather in the yield. But in the seventh year the land shall have a sabbath of complete rest, a sabbath of the Lord: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard. You shall not reap the aftergrowth of your harvest or gather the grapes of your untrimmed vines; it shall be a year of complete rest for the land. But you may eat whatever the land during its sabbath will produce—you, your male and female slaves, the hired and bound laborers who live with you, and your cattle and the beasts in your land may eat all its yield.
Implicit within the text is the idea that rest and release are essential components of the agricultural cycle. To ensure the well-being of the ground one inhabits, one must step back from cultivation and let it yield what it will in its own time. This principle has been analogized year after year to the necessity for human beings to take a sabbatical from excessive business, releasing themselves from over-stuffed schedules in order to inhabit a more grounded state of self-care. This notion of “release” is only part of the story, however. More radical is the more expansive notion of shemitah that follows in the biblical text.
We learn in Leviticus 25:8-55 that every 50 years of the ancient Israelite calendar (i.e., the accumulation of seven shemitah periods) would result in a year called the yovel (Jubilee in English). During this time there was a massive shift in the social fabric: Israelite bonds people would be set free; Israelite citizens had their ancestral land holdings returned to them; Israelite individuals would redeem extended family members who were in dire straits, etc. In rereading the parasha this week, I recalled that next year (i.e. starting with Rosh Hashana) is a shemitah year in Israel. While agriculture does not come to a full stop, there are certain actions that are taken in limited measure to align with the rules and regulations of the shemitah year. Needless to say, I wondered when the next yovel year would return? As I set out to consult Rabbi Google and other commentators on the matter, I discovered what I am sure I had learned at some point over these last several years of study: the practice of yovel no longer exists. Not even in much of a metaphorical way as far as I could tell. There was some technicality that led to its obsolescence millennia ago - something about the destruction of the Northern Kingdom of Israel in the 6th century BCE or whatever. For some reason, I found this surprising. I was sad to relearn that while there was some preservation of shemitah in our modern world, it was only piecemeal and the well being of humankind was notably absent from the equation.
What would it feel like to reclaim the yovel year in Jewish tradition? What would it look like for Jewish communities to move beyond reframing shemitah as only a year of rest and personal restoration every seven years and also hold it as a year to seek the support and the concrete freedom of others? I know that so many in this sacred community put their minds, souls and bodies on the line in the pursuit of justice for various causes. Might this ancient technology of the yovel provide us with yet another way to contextualize our learning and justice work through the creation of rituals that restore and refresh? I don’t know what this process would look like, but I invite all of you to join me in considering what next year could look like if we embraced it as a time of yovel. In the meantime, may we all experience at least a small measure of release, restoration, and blessing this shabbat.
Kendell Pinkney is the Rabbinic Fellow at Ammud: The Jews of Color Torah Academy.
