In this week’s parsha, the Torah introduces one of the most unique and challenging mitzvot, Shemitah, the sabbatical year.
Every seven years, the land of Israel is meant to rest.
Fields are left untouched.
Ownership softens.
The natural rhythm of productivity is interrupted.
It’s not just an agricultural pause.
It’s a complete shift in how a person relates to work, to security, and to Hashem.
And it’s here that the Torah presents a command that feels, at first, almost impossible.
The Torah says:
וְשָׁבְתָה הָאָרֶץ שַׁבָּת לַה׳
“The land shall rest—a Sabbath to Hashem.”
— Leviticus 25:2
For an entire year, the Jewish people were commanded to stop working the land.
No planting.
No harvesting.
No control.
And naturally, the question arises:
What will we eat? What will be?
The Torah answers:
וְצִוִּיתִי אֶת־בִּרְכָתִי לָכֶם… וְעָשָׂת אֶת־הַתְּבוּאָה לִשְׁלֹשׁ הַשָּׁנִים
“I will command My blessing for you… and it will produce enough for three years.”
— Leviticus 25:21
This isn’t just about farming.
It’s about perspective.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe teaches that Shemitah is meant to reshape how we see the world, not as something we control but as something entrusted to us by Hashem. When a person truly internalizes this, life becomes less about pressure and more about purpose.
Then comes Bechukotai:
אִם־בְּחֻקֹּתַי תֵּלֵכוּ
“If you walk in My statutes…”
— Leviticus 26:3
The Torah doesn’t say “if you keep,” but “if you walk.”
Because Judaism isn’t meant to remain in theory.
It’s meant to move with you, into your decisions, your conversations, and your daily life.
In the Rebbe’s approach, this pasuk is not just about observance; it’s about immersion. A life in which Torah isn’t something you visit but something you live within.
And then, right in the middle of these weighty ideas…
comes a day of fire.
Lag BaOmer.
A day of joy.
Of unity.
Of light.
A day connected to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, a Talmudic sage, a student of Rabbi Akiva, and one of the great transmitters of the inner dimension of Torah. He spent years in hiding from the Romans, immersed in Torah at the deepest level, eventually revealing what we now know as the teachings of the Zohar.
Lag BaOmer marks the day of his passing, but not as a day of mourning.
As a day of revelation and joy.
The Talmud records a striking statement about him:
יכול אני לפטור את כל העולם כולו מן הדין
“I have the ability to exempt the entire world from judgment.”
— Talmud Sukkah 45b
At first glance, it sounds bold, almost impossible.
But with a bit of context, it becomes something far more powerful.
This wasn’t a statement of authority.
It was a reflection of who he was.
Rabbi Shimon lived at a time of exile, instability, and Roman oppression. The world around him was anything but perfect. And yet, he developed a way of seeing reality that went deeper than the surface.
Rabbi Shimon’s perspective was so refined, so aligned with G-dly truth, that he saw the inner goodness within every Jew, and within the world itself.
And when you truly see that level of goodness…
Judgment begins to fall away.
Not because the world changes overnight,
but because you’re seeing it differently.
Rabbi Shimon didn’t deny the darkness.
He revealed the light within it.
And that’s why Lag BaOmer is not just a celebration of what he taught,
It’s a celebration of how he lived.
Now the pieces come together:
Behar teaches us to release the illusion of control
Bechukotai teaches us to live with alignment and purpose
Lag BaOmer shows us what it looks like when that becomes real
A life with less fear.
More trust.
More clarity.
Not because the world changed…
But because you did.
But there’s another reason Lag BaOmer carries such powerful meaning.
It marks the turning point in a painful chapter, the loss of Rabbi Akiva’s students. And the Talmud tells us the root cause:
שלא נהגו כבוד זה לזה
“They did not show proper respect to one another.”
— Talmud Yevamot 62b
This isn’t just historical context.
It explains why a day like Lag BaOmer, so filled with light and unity, matters so deeply.
Because spirituality is not only about our relationship with Hashem.
It’s about how we show up for each other.
Ahavat Yisrael, genuine care, dignity, and respect for another person, is not an added value.
It’s the foundation that allows everything else to exist.
So what does this week actually ask of us?
Not something abstract.
Something real.
To trust a little more, even when things feel uncertain
To live our values, not just believe in them
To bring light into someone else’s world
Because redemption is not just something we wait for.
It’s something we practice.
In small moments.
In quiet decisions.
In how we show up for others.
On Lag BaOmer, Rabbi Shimon referred to the day of his passing as a day of joy.
Because when a person reveals the inner light of Torah,
when they live with clarity, purpose, and connection, darkness doesn’t have the same hold.
And maybe that’s the takeaway for all of us:
You don’t have to wait for things to feel perfect.
You don’t have to wait for the world to change.
You can bring light - right now.
A phone call.
A kind word.
A moment of connection with Hashem.
Don’t wait for inspiration.
Create it.