“The Land” is a central character in Leviticus, receiving 23 mentions in the final two chapters, and 70 altogether in the second half of this central book of Torah. We think often of Leviticus as centered on the Sanctuary, and that it is, but the Land itself is a living character, offering blessings and curses to the people of Israel. If the people live faithfully, then the Land will receive blessed rains, produce its bounty, and provide security and satiety. But if the people act as if their title to the Land is absolute, if they fail to allow the Land to rest on the sabbatical year and recognize God’s ultimate title, then they will be forced into exile.

As Jacob Milgrom notes, the previous priestly account of pollution of the Land—the flood narrative of —requires ablution, the washing away of sin with water. (Milgrom, Leviticus 23-27, 2336)That solution is unavailable now for two reasons. First, God promised never to flood the earth again. Second, the sin that occupies Leviticus is not really one of pollution but of over-extraction of natural resources. The people have ignored God’s command to observe the sabbatical year; the only resolution is for the people to be pushed off the land so that it can rest and recover. Hence, the dreaded punishment of exile.

Toward the end of the devastating reproach section of our portion, the Torah predicts a future reconciliation when the exiles will humble their hearts, and their sin will be atoned. “Then will I remember My covenant with Jacob, also My covenant with Isaac, and also My covenant with Abraham will I remember; and I will remember the Land” (). This verse has several unusual features. It reverses the order of the patriarchs; it records Jacob’s name “full” with an extra letter (יעקוב, rather the Bible’s usual יעקב); and it leaves out “remember” for the middle man, Isaac.

Each element is interesting, but let us focus on the finale of the verse, where the Land itself becomes something like a fourth patriarch. God announces, “I will remember the Land,” making it not only the destination of return but also the very foundation of the covenant. As Midrash Sifra observes, “the Covenant is linked to the Land” (Behukkotai 2:8). Thinking back to , we recall that the covenant that God establishes with Abraham is all about the Land: “Then I will give to you and your descendants after you the land where you have dwelt, the Land of Canaan as an eternal possession, and I will be your God”(). The Land is not only a place to live, but an intermediary through which to encounter God.

Elsewhere in the Bible, the Land of Israel stands as a symbol of the virtue or lack of virtue of Israel. In a time of physical exile, Jeremiah imagines the Land itself lamenting its abandonment and asking why. Let the wise come and explain, “Why is the Land in ruins, laid waste like a wilderness, with none passing through it?” (). A land that is abandoned, in ruins, is evocative of the absent human life that once flourished there. Isaiah depicts the Land pining for its people and rejoicing upon their return ().

The Rabbis imagine the Land of Israel to be something like a tough nanny. On the one hand, she is a disciplinarian, noticing the failure of the people to observe her commandments such as the neglected sabbatical, and calling these failures to God’s attention. On the other hand, she is their caregiver. In Midrash Vayikra Rabbah, Rabbi Shimon ben Lakish says that it is like a king who has three sons and a nurse for them. If he wants to know about his sons, he inquires about the nurse. So too does God care about the children—that is, Israel—but inquires only about the Land (Behukkotai 36).

This Midrash views the Land as an instrument of reward and punishment, but perhaps the truth is deeper still. The Land is more like a teacher or a parent, socializing its students to express gratitude, self-control, and respect for others. Like an anxious child who grabs more food than they really need, the people of Israel are inclined to ignore the Sabbatical. This undermines awareness of divine title and cedes self-control, so that fear guides their way, all the way into exile.

German-Jewish philosopher Hans Jonas argued that pre-modern ethics was limited to a range of proximate concern—it was always assumed that earth would rebound from any damage that we could cause. Therefore, responsibility was only for direct damage, not for the cumulative harm caused over the course of generations. (The Imperative of Responsibility: In Search of an Ethics for the Technological Age, 5) That indeed seems to be the understanding in Leviticus: After a few years of exile, the neglected sabbaticals will be made up, and the people will be welcome to return. Our fear is that this is no longer true. Our destructive powers have grown too great, and the land may not recover from the harm that we cause.

Enjoyment of the land requires us to tread lightly on it. A walk in the park, a hike in the hills, a dip in the ocean—these simple pleasures restore our relationship to the land, reminding us that we are not its owners, but rather its temporary inhabitants. More than this is required—real reductions in carbon emissions and the willingness to let the land rest. As with the ancient neglect of sabbaticals, our contemporary abuse of our home is having direct and dangerous consequences. Reading this portion alerts us to that danger and motivates us to make the changes required to live in health and joy on all the good land that God has given.

This commentary was published originally in 2019.

The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (��”l) and Harold Hassenfeld (��”l).

Part of the Learning Series, Seasons of Responsibility: Interreligious Conversations on Environmental Justice and Repair

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There are ways to exist in harmony with all of creation that cultivate the soul and a relationship with the Divine. Hussein Rashid and Rabbi Gordon Tucker bring Muslim and Jewish texts into dialogue to explore how religious traditions resist transactional relationships with the earth and with one another. Drawing on the sabbatical vision from Leviticus and a Muslim sources on overtaxation, they reflect on restraint, renewal, and the dangers of extraction. Timed with converging sacred moments—the beginning of the Jewish calendar, Persian New Year, and the close of Ramadan—this session offers a shared language for ethical living in a fragile world.

�鶹ԭ�� the Speakers

Hussein Rashid, PhD, is a free range academic, currently affiliated with Union Theological Seminary. He is a board member of the Interfaith Center of New York. He specializes in working on Muslims in US popular culture and Shi’i theologies of justice. He has served in various academic and culturally creative capacities, most recently as Project Director of The Arts of Devotion at the Smithsonian’s National Muslim of Asian Art. He has taught at Virginia Theological Seminary and Reconstructionist Rabbinical College. He is also a producer of the PBS Digital Series American Muslim Stories and of the award-winning New York Times op-doc The Secret of Muslims in the US.

As vice chancellor for Religious Life and Engagement, Rabbi Gordon Tucker focuses on enhancing Jewish life at JTS, enriching our study of Judaism with the joy and deep understanding that only lived experience can provide. A leading scholar and interpreter of Conservative Judaism, he also articulates the enduring power of JTS’s compelling approach to Jewish law and Jewish life, while strengthening JTS’s religious leadership through partnerships with organizations in the Conservative Movement and beyond.

�鶹ԭ�� the Series

Across Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Hindu traditions, spring is a season of reflection, renewal, and ethical commitment. Grounded in holidays from Tu Bishvat and Lent to Ramadan, Holi, and Passover, this interreligious series explores responsibility, repair, and leadership in the face of urgent ecological challenges. Together, participants consider how religious wisdom can inspire ethical action and collective hope. 

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From our Learning Series: Seasons of Responsibility
Join us for a timely conversation co-sponsored by the Center for Earth Ethics at Union Theological Seminary. Featuring Karenna Gore and Rabbi Burton L. Visotzky, this program explores how traditions of moral reflection can guide us.
In partnership with the Center for Earth Ethics

�鶹ԭ�� the Speaker

Karenna Gore is the founder and executive director of the Center for Earth Ethics and teaching professor of practice of earth ethics at Union Theological Seminary in New York. Karenna formed CEE in 2015 to address the moral and spiritual dimensions of the climate crisis. Working at the intersection of faith, ethics, and ecology, she guides the Center’s public programs, educational initiatives, and movement-building. She is an adjunct faculty member at the Columbia Climate School.

Rabbi Burton L. Visotzky, PhD, serves as Appleman Professor Emiritus of Midrash and Interreligious Studies at JTS, where he joined the faculty upon his ordination in 1977. Visotzky served as a dean of the Kekst Graduate School and founding rabbi of the egalitarian Women’s League Seminary Synagogue.
He currently serves as the Louis Stein Director of the Finkelstein Institute for Religious and Social Studies at JTS, programming on public policy. Visotzky also directs JTS’s Milstein Center for Interreligious Dialogue. He serves on the Steering Committee of “The Plan of Action for Religious Leaders … to Prevent Incitement to Atrocity Crimes,” for the UN Under-Secretary General for Genocide Prevention. In addition, Visotzky serves on the United Nations Inter-Agency Task-Force’s Multi-Faith Advisory Council. He is a life-member of the Council on Foreign Relations. Rabbi Visotzky participates in interreligious engagement in places as diverse as Washington, Jerusalem, Rome, Warsaw, Vienna, Madrid, Cairo, Doha, Marrakech, Fez, and Abu Dhabi.

�鶹ԭ�� the Series

Across Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Hindu traditions, spring is a season of reflection, renewal, and ethical commitment. Grounded in holidays from Tu Bishvat and Lent to Ramadan, Holi, and Passover, this interreligious series explores responsibility, repair, and leadership in the face of urgent ecological challenges. Together, participants consider how religious wisdom can inspire ethical action and collective hope.

Part of the series, Seasons of Responsibility: Interreligious Conversations on Environmental Justice and Repair

What does it mean to act responsibly when there is no guarantee of results? Jewish and Hindu traditions both turn to fasting as a practice of restraint and agency. Focusing on the Fast of Esther, alongside Hindu fasting traditions, this session explores how intentional self-restraint—held in tension with celebration—can shape ethical responses to the climate crisis. 

�鶹ԭ�� the Speakers

Gopal Patel��leads FutureFaith as Co-Founder and Board President, mobilizing faith communities for environmental action through innovative multi-sectoral partnerships. He has advised multiple UN bodies and partnered with a range of organizations, including��the Bloomberg Ocean Fund, the World Economic Forum and WWF International. Through his work, he has engaged faith leaders and communities representing over 1 billion people worldwide.��

Benjamin Kamine holds a joint appointment as Lecturer in Rabbinic Literatures and Cultures at the Jewish Theological Seminary and Assistant Teaching Faculty in Interreligious Engagement at Union Theological Seminary.  In this role, he also works as Associate Director of the Milstein Center for Interreligious Dialogue at JTS and as a Special Advisor in the Office of the President at Columbia University.  He is a PhD candidate in Midrash at JTS.  Kamine serves as 2nd Vice President of the Executive Board of the International Council of Christians and Jews and Jewish Co-Chair of the International Abrahamic Forum. 

�鶹ԭ�� the Series

Across Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Hindu traditions, spring is a season of reflection, renewal, and ethical commitment. Grounded in holidays from Tu Bishvat and Lent to Ramadan, Holi, and Passover, this interreligious series explores responsibility, repair, and leadership in the face of urgent ecological challenges. Together, participants consider how religious wisdom can inspire ethical action and collective hope. 

Part of the Learning Series,��Seasons of Responsibility: Interreligious��Conversations��on Environmental Justice and Repair

What does it mean to act responsibly when power is uneven, harm is systemic, and silence can feel safer than action? Drawing on the Book of Esther, this Catholic–Jewish conversation reflects on moral agency, ecological responsibility, and the challenges of ethical decision-making within contemporary legal and institutional systems.��

�鶹ԭ�� the Speakers

Endy Moraes, Director of the Institute on Religion, Law and Lawyer’s Work at Fordham Law School and Adjunct Professor of Law, is a Brazilian lawyer with extensive experience in interreligious and intercultural dialogue. At Fordham, she works closely with students to foster opportunities for multifaith and multicultural engagement. 

Endy holds both an S.J.D. and an LL.M., cum laude, from Fordham Law School, where her research focused on the intersection of law, technology, and religious values. A member of the Focolare Movement within the Catholic Church, Endy lives in community and brings a deeply rooted commitment to dialogue and service to her academic and professional work. 

Rabbi Jan Uhrbach is founding director of the Block / Kolker Center for Spiritual Arts. She brings her passion for prayer and teaching to the JTS community. Through her work as director of the Block / Kolker Center for Spiritual Arts, she has developed and overseen programs and discussions, as well as prayer services on Shabbat and festivals, for the JTS community and the general public.

�鶹ԭ�� the Series

Across Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Hindu traditions, spring is a season of reflection, renewal, and ethical commitment. Grounded in holidays from Tu Bishvat and Lent to Ramadan, Holi, and Passover, this interreligious series explores responsibility, repair, and leadership in the face of urgent ecological challenges. Together, participants consider how religious wisdom can inspire ethical action and collective hope. 

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Part of Our Learning Series,��Seasons of Responsibility: Interreligious��Conversations��on Environmental Justice and Repair

Seasons of Responsibility��begins with��Tu Bishvat. The session explored how Tu Bishvat’s meaning has evolved over time.��We discussed the gifts of Tu Bishvat for this unique moment. And we’ll see Tu Bishvat not just as a single day, but as the beginning of a springtime season that leads to Purim, Pesach and Shavuot.��

The session features Nigel Savage, founding CEO of the Jewish Climate Trust, in conversation with Rabbi Ayelet Cohen, Dean of the Rabbinical School at JTS. Jewish Climate Trust is a co-sponsor of this event.

Organized��by the JTS Division of Lifelong and Professional Studies and��Milstein Center for Interreligious Dialogue��

�鶹ԭ�� the Speakers

Nigel Savage is the founding CEO of Jewish Climate Trust, based in Jerusalem. Before JCT he worked in finance, and then founded and led Hazon (today Adamah) for twenty years. He studied at Georgetown, Hebrew U, Pardes and Yakar – and is proud to have received an honorary doctorate from JTS. 

As Pearl Resnick Dean of The Rabbinical School and Dean of the Division of Religious Leadership at JTS, Rabbi Ayelet Cohen leads The Rabbinical School and H. L. Miller Cantorial School. In this role, she works to shape the next generation of Jewish clergy, cultivating students’ spiritual and intellectual lives so they can meet the challenges of Jewish life with wisdom, creativity, and resilience. Rabbi Cohen assumed this position in 2022, becoming the first woman to hold this role. 

�鶹ԭ�� the Series

Across Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Hindu traditions, spring is a season of reflection, renewal, and ethical commitment. Grounded in holidays from Tu Bishvat and Lent to Ramadan, Holi, and Passover, this interreligious series explores responsibility, repair, and leadership in the face of urgent ecological challenges. Together, participants consider how religious wisdom can inspire ethical action and collective hope. 

Across Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Hindu traditions, the early spring season is a shared period of reflection, renewal, and ethical clarity. While rooted in different stories and practices—from Tu BiShvat to Lent and Easter, from Ramadan to Holi and Passover—these holidays collectively invite communities to consider how human choices shape the world we inhabit.

This series brings together people to explore questions of responsibility, agency, and repair in the face of urgent ecological challenges. Each session will examine pressing environmental issues through an interreligious lens, highlighting how wisdom traditions can inform ethical action and public leadership.

The series uses the spring season as a narrative frame: a moment when many communities turn inward, commit to repair, and seek renewal. Through interreligious dialogue, we aim to illuminate how diverse traditions encourage accountability, resist misinformation, and nurture hope and collective responsibility in a rapidly changing world.

Organized by the JTS Division of Lifelong and Professional Studies and Milstein Center for Interreligious Dialogue

Programming Partners include The Center for Earth Ethic, Dayenu the Institute on Religion, Law and Lawyer’s Work (Fordham University), Jewish Climate Trust

Thank You for Your Participation

I heard the sound again, re-checked my phone, but still, no message.  It took three rounds of this cycle to realize that the chirping wasn’t coming from my cell phone—it was coming from a real live bird in Riverside Park! My brain had become wired to hear “tweet” and think that the more likely option in my day-to-day urban life was a text message on my phone, as opposed to an actual bird.

This tweet was the wake up call I needed to realize how disconnected I had become from the natural world—from the land, its sounds, and native inhabitants. I was ungrounded, and the birdsong was like a springtime shofar blast for sensory overload. It was the nudge I needed to spend more time outdoors, to mute my phone’s pings and dings, and to look at the biblical concept of shemitah (release) with fresh eyes and newly attuned ears.��

In Parashat Behar, God tells the Israelites that when they enter the land that God will give them, “the Land shall observe a Sabbath of the Adonai”—veshavta ha’aretz Shabbat l’Adonai (Lev. 25:2). This becomes known as the shemitah year. For six years, you can work to your heart’s content—you can sow, prune, and gather, but in the seventh year, the land shall have a full, complete rest: shabbat shabbaton yihiyeh la’aretz (Lev. 25:4)!

The concept of shemitah was radical in its original context in the Ancient Near East. For an agrarian society, dependent on self-sustaining agricultural production, it was a bold move requiring immense faith and forethought to leave land fallow every seven years. In fact, one reason for the decline of the flourishing Neo-Sumerian economy of Mesopotamia in the early second millennium BCE was the high alkaline content of the soil in areas of the Diyala River region. Irrigation was overutilized, crop output faltered, and the economy failed.^[1] Thus, it was indeed radical for our Israelite ancestors to put their faith, fortune, and future in God’s hand. It was brave of them to trust that God’s land would produce more productively, if it had the opportunity for a shabbat shabbaton—a period of complete rest.

As radical as shemitah may have been for the ancient Israelites, perhaps the concept is even more radical for us today. We work “from the office” and “from home”—which actually means that we work wherever we are. We literally carry our work with us in our pockets. We sow at the supermarket, we prune on the pick-up line, and we gather while we wait for the green light. We toil until we can’t tell the difference between a sparrow’s trill and a sputtering social-media troll. It’s hard enough for us to stop working at 5PM, and to shut our laptops for twenty-five hours over Shabbat. But a full year of complete rest from production?! Preposterous!

The Italian commentator Seforno (1475–1549) notes that “during the shemitah year, the farmer, instead of ‘serving’ the soil which requires cultivation, will instead turn his efforts to serving God directly. Just as the weekly Sabbath is a day set aside for intensive service of God, so the shemitah year is to serve the same purpose.”^[2] Seforno seems to imply here that it’s challenging to simultaneously serve God while also dedicating oneself wholly to one’s labor. (Thanks for the validation, Seforno!) The farmers were only able to dedicate themselves fully to God when they set down their scythes.

How then might we serve God, if we don’t have our own farms to leave fallow, and if we don’t work in fields that allow us to set down our pruning shears every seven years? Perhaps we can infuse our lives with the spirit of shemitah through recognizing the blessings of nature and respecting the inhabitants of the land—from the birds that tweet to the seeds that grow. And we don’t even have to wait seven years to do so.  Shemitah offers us a vision of a world in which we can live in harmony with our environment. Perhaps it’s an idealistic dream, yet it’s one worth envisioning and pursuing for the sake of our ancestors, ourselves, and our children in generations to come.

I started with a bird, and I’ll end with a seed. Researchers at the Arava Institute for Environmental Studies at Kibbutz Ketura recently harvested a crop of dates grown on palm trees from 2,000-year-old seeds retrieved from archaeological excavations.^[3] The Ketura ancient palm grove has a few trees—the most senior, nicknamed Methuselah, was planted in 2005 from a seed found at Masada during the excavations led by Yigal Yadin in 1960s. Since then, thirty-two seeds have been planted and six germinated, miraculously reviving an ancient variety of date. These special fruits resemble modern dates, and have a very sweet taste, like honey.

These miracle seeds didn’t just rest for one shemitah year—they rested for two millennia! Imagine for a moment, a weary rebel or a tired mother near Masada, plucking a date from a nearby palm tree and sucking its honey for a boost of energy. Then dropping that seed on the ground, only for it to be re-discovered 2,000 years later, and then planted and harvested anew—so we today can savor its sweet honey and its even sweeter story.

Let the story of these date seeds give you hope: hope for a time when we can all enjoy the blessings of shemitah, and hope for a world where people live in harmony with our land and its inhabitants.

The publication and distribution of the JTS Commentary are made possible by a generous grant from Rita Dee (��”l) and Harold Hassenfeld (��”l). 

^[1] Levine, Baruch. The JPS Torah Commentary: Leviticus. Pg. 272, Excursus 10. 

^[2]

^[3] , Jerusalem Post (August 14, 2021).