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One of the overriding themes that is reflected in this week’s parsha is the impermanence of all human ownership, reflected in its accompanying agreements and contracts. The Torah specifically states that property in the Land of Israel cannot be sold in perpetuity. The laws of shemitta and yovel preclude permanent sales of land, and as far as houses in walled cities are concerned the seller has a year long right of redemption and repurchase.
The Torah emphasizes the reason for this overriding value which restricts permanent sale, that “all of the earth belongs to Me.” As long as people are convinced that somehow their property really belongs to them and that that they somehow are more than temporary dwellers, then they will have a false view of life and society.
The only permanence in human affairs is its impermanence, just as the only certainty in human life is its uncertainty. God told us that we are only strangers and sojourners within His realm. To think otherwise is hubris of the worst sort.
By limiting our control of property and curtailing our proprietary rights, the Torah emphasizes to us the view that a person should have regarding one’s life and possessions. We are no more than tenants, trustees if you will, but never the real permanent owners of what we temporarily possess and enjoy.
That is really the import of the famous first comment of Rashi to the Torah – that the Lord owns all property and territory in this world and He distributes and redistributes it amongst nations and peoples as He so desires.
Judaism is a this-world oriented faith. Nevertheless, one of its basic tenets is its belief in the immortality of the soul and its place in the World to Come – the eternal world of the spirit. There is a Chasidic legend about a wealthy man who was travelling and found overnight lodging in the hovel of an impoverished Jew. The bed was hard, the blanket was flimsy, the house was cold and the breakfast consisted of meager gruel and water. The wealthy visitor complained to his poor host: “Is this the way you live always?” The poor Jew replied: “And are these your usual accommodations?” In response the rich man replied: “Certainly not. I have a sixteen-room home with heat and food aplenty where I truly reside. But I am now travelling and on the road as a such I must accept whatever accommodations come my way.”
The poor Jew then said: “I also have a mansion for my permanent home. It is being built for me in the World to Come. In this world I am but a traveller so I also must accept whatever accommodations come my way.” We are all only travellers on this journey of life. A traveller always has a sense of impermanence, of living out of a suitcase, of being merely a tenant or guest in the great hotel/inn that we call this world of ours.
Mount Sinai and the Torah that emanated from there emphasized this truism of life to us. Would that we would see ourselves this way and thereby spare ourselves needless frustration and aggravation.
Shabat shalom.
Rabbi Berel Wein