Few ideas lie more at the heart of the Torah than the bond between the Jewish people and the Land of Israel. It is not merely a matter of geography or even of history, but of destiny, a relationship forged in covenant and sustained through faith. Nowhere is this more evident than in the twin portions of Behar and Bechukotai, which together lay out a sweeping vision of what it means to dwell in Eretz Yisrael not just as inhabitants, but as a holy nation.
At first glance, the laws detailed in Behar may appear technical. The Sabbatical year, known as the Shemitah, requires the land to lie fallow every seven years. The Jubilee year, or Yovel, goes even further, mandating the return in the 50th year of ancestral lands and the release of indentured servants. These commandments cut against the grain of conventional economic thinking. They disrupt cycles of accumulation and challenge the illusion of permanent ownership.
But therein lies their deeper message.
“The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is Mine; for you are strangers and sojourners with Me" (Leviticus 25:23). With these striking words, the Torah reminds us that our presence in Eretz Yisrael is conditional, anchored not in power but in purpose. We are not masters of the land, but stewards, charged with cultivating it in accordance with G-d’s will.
It is a radical notion, particularly in an age that prizes autonomy and control above all else. Yet it is precisely this humility that lies at the core of the Jewish national mission. To live in the Land of Israel is to accept that there are moral and spiritual boundaries that must guide our conduct.
Bechukotai takes this idea and sharpens it into a stark choice. “If you walk in My statutes and keep My commandments," the Torah promises, “then I will give your rains in their season, and the land shall yield its produce" (Leviticus 26:3-4). Blessing and bounty are not random; they are the product of fidelity to a higher calling.
But the converse is equally true. Should the people abandon that calling, the consequences will be severe. The Parsha outlines, in searing detail, the calamities that will befall the nation if it strays from the covenant, culminating in exile from the very land that was meant to be its eternal home.
History, of course, bears this out with painful clarity. The Jewish people were indeed uprooted from their land, scattered across the globe, and forced to endure unimaginable hardship. And yet, remarkably, the bond with Eretz Yisrael was never severed. Through centuries of dispersion, Jews turned toward Jerusalem in prayer, invoked the land in their liturgy, and yearned for the day when they would return.
In our own time, that return has become a reality. The modern State of Israel stands as a testament to the enduring power of the Divine covenant, a living embodiment of ancient promises fulfilled in our day. After nearly two millennia of exile, the Jewish people have once again taken root in their ancestral homeland.
But Behar and Bechukotai remind us that return is only the beginning.
The challenge before us is not merely to live in the land, but to live up to it. The commandments tied to Eretz Yisrael are a blueprint for building a society grounded in justice, compassion and faith. The Sabbatical year teaches restraint and trust, the Jubilee enshrines equality and renewal, and the broader covenant calls upon us to align our national life with enduring moral principles.
This is no small task. It requires us to look beyond immediate concerns and to grapple with the larger question of what kind of nation we aspire to be. Are we content to be like all other countries, driven solely by economic and political considerations? Or are we prepared to embrace the unique role that history and tradition have assigned to us?
The answer, as Bechukotai makes clear, will determine not only our prosperity, but our very presence in the land.
Eretz Yisrael is more than a place on the map. It is a crucible in which the Jewish people are called upon to refine their identity and fulfill their mission. It demands of us a higher standard, a deeper commitment, and a willingness to see beyond ourselves.
If we rise to that challenge, the blessings promised in the Torah will not remain confined to the pages of Scripture. They will be realized in the fields and cities of Israel, in the lives of its people, and in the unfolding story of a nation that has come home, not just to a land, but to its purpose.