ORTHODOX JUDAISM

Making sense of the sedra: Behar-Bechukotai

What sustains a civilisation?

Pausing to reflect can help build a sustainable world
Pausing to reflect can help build a sustainable world

“If you follow my statutes and keep my commandments…” (Leviticus 26:3). This is one of the most understated openings to one of the most dramatic passages in the Torah. No thunder, no revelation at Sinai, no splitting of seas. Just a simple conditional: if. And yet, from that single word flows a vision of blessing and curse, harmony and dissonance, a society either in tune with itself or fractured at its core.

Behar and Bechukotai ask a question that could not be more contemporary: what sustains a civilisation? Not wealth alone, nor power, nor even technological brilliance, but something far less tangible and far more enduring – a shared commitment to moral limits.

In Behar, the Torah introduces Shemittah and Yovel, laws that interrupt the natural human instinct to accumulate. Every seven years, the land rests. Every fifty years, it resets. Ownership dissolves, hierarchies soften, and society is reminded that no one truly owns anything indefinitely. “The land is mine,” says God. It is a statement that redefines economics as ethics. We are not proprietors of the world, but its custodians.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks would often speak of Judaism as a protest against the idea that might makes right. Nowhere is that clearer than here. The Torah embeds dignity into the structure of society itself, ensuring that inequality never becomes destiny.

Bechukotai then describes what happens when a society lives by its values – and what happens when it forgets them. The blessings are not supernatural interruptions of nature, but its fulfilment. Rain falls in its time. The land yields its produce. People live without fear. The curses, by contrast, are not arbitrary punishments, but the slow unravelling of a moral order neglected.

The message is both ancient and urgent. A society that respects limits thrives. One that erases them ultimately erodes itself.

In an age defined by speed, excess, and the illusion of control, the Torah offers a different rhythm – one of pause, perspective and responsibility. The question is not whether we can build a successful world, but whether we can build a sustainable one.

It begins with a single word: if.

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