Rabbi David Glanzberg-Krainin
Parshat Behar
Here is a story that I heard from my colleague Rabbi Ed Feinstein, the senior rabbi of Congregation Valley Beth Shalom in Los Angeles.
Once there was a king who collected jewels. One night, the king dreamed that, somewhere in the world, there was a ring with strange, magical powers: When one was sad, it could make him happy. When one was giddy and drunk, it could sober her up and bring her back to herself. When one was joyful, it intensified one’s joy.
The king awoke from his dream convinced that the ring really existed. Calling together his court, he recounted the dream and offered a fabulous reward for the one who found the ring.
Each of them went out to search the world. And each returned empty-handed. Except one. There was one whose love for his master pushed him onward. Years went by. This minister of the king scoured the world, searching every shop, every bazaar, for the magic ring to no avail. But before he would admit failure, he stopped, one last time, at a tiny shop near the palace. He described what he sought, and he also described his fruitless search over the past several years.
The owner simply smiled. “I have the ring,” he responded, “come, let me get it for you.” He took down an old box and handed the ring to the astonished minister. “Take it as my gift.”
The minister rushed to the palace. He entered the king’s chamber, approached the throne and, with a trembling voice, he announced to the king that he had found the magic ring. With hands that stretched out that slowly, the minister presented the ring to the king.
The king opened the box. In it, he found a plain, unadorned metal ring. Could this, after all, be the precious, magical ring? Then he saw that three Hebrew words were engraved on the ring: Gam Zeh Ya-Avor (this too will pass). The King looked at the ring quizzically and placed it back into the box …
Over time, the king came to realize the magical power of the ring. When he was sad, the ring would remind him: This too will pass, and he would be consoled. Giddy and drunk, he would look upon the ring: This too will pass, and he was sobered.
And when he experienced true joy, real happiness, the ring reminded him: This too will pass, and he recognized the preciousness of special moments. And then the fable concludes: Soon the king realized that this was indeed the most valuable ring in the world. He lost interest in the rest of his collection — all his many jewels and gems paled in the face of the plain metal ring that never left his hand.
In this week’s Torah portion Parshat Behar, we read the following words: “God spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai, saying, ‘Speak to the Israelite people and say to them: When you enter the land that I assign to you, the land shall observe a Sabbath. Six years you may sow your field, and six years you may prune your vineyard and gather in the produce. But in the seventh year, the land shall have a Sabbath of complete rest, a Sabbath to the Lord Your God. You shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard. (Lev. 25:1-4)
With this introduction of the sabbatical year, we encounter the radical notion that rest is so central to the well-being of the world, that not only human beings, but the land itself, requires regular periods of rest.
We count six years and rest on the seventh. We then count seven periods of seven years and then have a year of Yovel, a jubilee year in which the land is restored to its original owners. We mark the passing of time not only through our observance of Shabbat but through the Sabbaths for the land as well. Each act of counting is an opportunity for us to reflect on the passing of time. Gam Zeh Ya-Avor, this too will pass.
And because of that, we must sanctify time by marking the passages of our lives — both bitter and sweet.
To be a Jew is to be obsessed with time: Counting the days until Shabbat; marking the beginning of each new month; and waiting for the next holiday. And especially at this time of the year: Seven weeks of the Omer — each day is counted, each week marked. To remind us that time is passing. And to give us this gift: that time is precious. Gam Zeh Ya-Avor, this too will pass.
The magic ring is available to us all; may we use the gift wisely. Shabbat Shalom.
Rabbi David Glanzberg-Krainin is the rabbi of Beth Sholom Congregation in Elkins Park. The Board of Rabbis of Greater Philadelphia is proud to provide diverse perspectives on Torah commentary for the Jewish Exponent. The opinions expressed in this column are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the view of the Board of Rabbis.