Rabbi Yoseph Kahanov Shliach to Jacksonville, FL
Two men living in the same town came into significant wealth. Both decided to bury their fortune in their backyard. Each picked a landmark on their respective properties, paced 20 steps and dug a hole.

Chaim, the more anxious of the two, kept looking over his shoulder to make sure there was nobody watching as he placed his treasures in the ground. By contrast, the more trusting Berel didn’t bother with such precautions. Unbeknownst to him, he was spotted by a dishonest neighbor who eventually stole his entire nest egg.

A week later Chaim the worrier, whose fortune was fully intact, decided to check up on his hidey-hole. By accident he counted the wrong amount of paces from the landmark and dug into the ground. Imagine his horror when he realized that there was nothing there.

The Weekly Sedra – Behar – What Will We Eat?
Faith vs. Anxiety

Rabbi Yoseph Kahanov Shliach to Jacksonville, FL

Two men living in the same town came into significant wealth. Both decided to bury their fortune in their backyard. Each picked a landmark on their respective properties, paced 20 steps and dug a hole.

Chaim, the more anxious of the two, kept looking over his shoulder to make sure there was nobody watching as he placed his treasures in the ground. By contrast, the more trusting Berel didn’t bother with such precautions. Unbeknownst to him, he was spotted by a dishonest neighbor who eventually stole his entire nest egg.

A week later Chaim the worrier, whose fortune was fully intact, decided to check up on his hidey-hole. By accident he counted the wrong amount of paces from the landmark and dug into the ground. Imagine his horror when he realized that there was nothing there.

Convinced that someone stole his entire treasure, he could find no peace. The stress got the better of him as he gradually deteriorated and withered – his fortune safely in the ground.

Berel, on the other hand, whose stash was in fact long gone, never thought of checking. He lived a long happy life, believing all along that he was the wealthiest man on earth.

Is man ever satisfied with what he has? Is there ever enough? Human nature, it seems, has us forever wanting.

I’m reminded of a remark made by renowned mogul John D. Rockefeller, upon the media’s recognition of him as being the wealthiest man in the world. Asked how it felt to be so rich – whether he was finally satisfied, or if he aspired towards even greater riches – Rockefeller indicated that his appetite was not quite sated and that he intended to actively pursue even greater wealth.

When pressed by the curious reporter as to how much money it would take to satisfy him, how much was enough, Rockefeller replied with a twinkle in his eye: “Just a little more son, just a little more.”

The following Talmudic assertion, made in tractate Avos, appears to capture this perplexing human trait: “He who has one hundred wants two, he who has two hundred wants four.” But is our constant need for more, real, or is it psychological? Is it healthy or destructive? The sabbatical – Shmittah – year phenomenon, as presented in our Parsha, appears to shed considerable light on this subject.

This week’s Torah reading – Behar, instructs that every seventh year the land of Israel must lie fallow – no harvesting or planting is permitted.
The Torah proceeds to reassure the residents of the land that if they keep the Divine directives of the Shmittah and the Jubilee years, “The land will yield its fruit and you will eat your fill and you will dwell securely upon it.”

In light of this definitive Divine pledge, the following verse seems exceedingly peculiar: “If you will say, ‘What will I eat in the seventh year? Behold! We will not sow and not gather-in our crops . . .!’” (Leviticus 25:20).

Why would the Torah anticipate this type of question when it has already guaranteed the Al-mighty’s intention to sustain and provide for the inhabitants, despite (and because of) their observance of the laws of Shmittah? Furthermore, the Torah states that the Divine blessing of abundance will begin in the sixth year; accordingly, there would never be a need to ask this question, since the silos would always be filled.

Even more curious is the fact that in presenting the question, the Torah makes reference to the seventh year. This is troublesome because normally the harvest of the previous year serves as provisions for the following year. Consequently, in the seventh year there should naturally be abundant supplies from the sixth year’s harvest. If at all, it is with regards the eighth year to which the concern should apply.

The commentaries note that, as is often the case, the Torah alludes here to a profound psychological phenomenon – the ever-common travail known as anxiety.

There is a fundamental difference between fear and anxiety. Fear, say mental experts, is a normal emotion that occurs when a person is confronted by a legitimate threat. Anxiety, on the other hand, is a pathologic emotion that appears even when there is no real danger or legitimate cause for worry.

Other than chemical imbalance, which requires medical attention, the anxiety we experience in life is, for the most part, the result of insecurity and lack of faith in G-d.

A person of faith trusts that the Creator of all beings will take care of him, as is so poignantly stated in the first chapter of the Grace After Meals: “Blessed are you . . . who, in His goodness, provides sustenance for the entire world with grace, kindness and mercy. He gives food to all flesh, for His kindness is everlasting. Through His great goodness to us we continuously do not lack and shall never lack food. . . For He, benevolent G-d, provides nourishment and sustenance to all. . .”

A person who has trust in the Al-mighty is confident that no harm will become him; certainly not as a result of the fulfillment of His explicit commandments, i.e., the laws of Shmittah or Shabbos. The person of faith is hence not likely to ask the question: “What will we eat. . .?”

The question to begin with, is posed by the one who lacks faith. This individual, says the Torah, not only worries about the results of the Shmittah, e.g. the eighth year, but is concerned with the seventh year as well.

In other words, the Torah uses the seventh year as the object of undue apprehension to relate a profound message: If you are a man of faith, you will forever experience peace of mind – you will be as secure about tomorrow as you are about today.

On the other hand, if you lack faith in G-d, you will never enjoy true serenity. You will likely be as worried for today as you are for tomorrow. You will be as anxious of the present – despite the full granary or bank account – as you are of the unforeseen future.

How remarkably accurate is the Torah’s prediction. We often encounter people of limited means who are entirely content with their simple lifestyle. By contrast, many who are in possession of substantial wealth are paralyzed by fear and anxiety.

There is a story about a wealthy man who complained to a great sage about the pressures incurred from his vast financial enterprises. “Tell me,” said the sage, “why don’t you just sell all your holdings and relax? Don’t you have enough to last you for the rest of your life?”

“Certainly I do,” replied the rich man. “But by amassing all this wealth I can secure the financial future of all my children and grandchildren as well.”

“Is that so?” mused the sage, raising his eyebrows. “So what will happen when your grandchildren grow up and come to inherit all your wealth, will they live a life of leisure or go to work as well?” The rich man thought for a moment, “I expect they will go to work.”

“But why?”

“Well, to ensure that their own grandchildren are also taken care of.” “Aha!” sighed the sage. “And what about your grandchildren’s grandchildren? They too will obviously work hard to ensure the future of their grandchildren. I would give anything to set eyes on this grandchild, for whose benefit all these generations have been working so hard.

No, my friend. That is not the reason why you work so hard. The real reason is that no matter how much money you have you do not feel secure. Deep in your heart, you feel that the more money you pile up the greater your guarantee of being wealthy for the rest of your life. You are living in a fantasy.”

The lesson of the Torah’s narrative regarding the distressed individual – the one who is apt to ask: What shall I eat? – is that life demands faith. Faith is as necessary and indigenous to man as water is to fish. He who has faith is not prone to distress and anxiety.

On the other hand, he who believes that his fate is in his own hands will never enjoy a moment of true peace and tranquility – he will forever be dogged by fears and concerns, and rightfully so. For what ability does the human possess to know or control what tomorrow may bring? Anxiety is hence inevitable.

The Noam Elimelach takes the idea a step farther. He asserts that the lack of faith is not only a distorted and unhealthy mindset that leads to anxiety and distress, but that it actually acts as a blockage to the Heavenly flow of energy and blessing. And that only through faith are the Divine channels of kindness and blessing opened to their fullest measure, allowing for the abundant flow of energy from His generous and gracious hand.

May we all experience true faith and abundant blessings in a revealed and tangible manner.

The author welcomes your feedback and input: rabbi@chabadjacksonville.org

4 Comments

  • SHARA

    THE LESSON ABOUT FAITH WAS EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED TO READ TODAY. I OFTEN GET ANXIOUS ABOUT LIFE, BUT I KNOW IF I CONTINUALLY TRUST GOD THE ANXIOUS FEELINGS WILL GO AWAY. ENJOYED THE READING

  • shmuel s

    it’s like the story of the melamed in Europe who would say “If I had Rothschild’s money, I’d be richer than Rothschild because I’d give bar mitzva lessons on the side” someach b’chelko? I think not!

  • Tamar

    Thank you Rabbi Kahanov. We love you
    and miss you. Trully chadimims of yours
    Eliyahu and Tamar.