A central belief of our religion is the existence of Olam Habah. Although “Olam Habah” has a number of meanings throughout rabbinic literature, the general understanding is that it refers to the reward a person receives after his or her life in this world, a spiritual reward, exemplified by closeness to G-d. Indeed, the desire to merit a “portion” in Olam Habah is a theme one commonly comes across when studying Torah. Many of the mitzvos we perform, Chazal say, guarantee us this portion. Such observances include wearing tzitzis (Menachos 44a) and saying Ashrei three times a day (Berachos 4b). Beyond this, the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 90a) tells us, “All of Israel merit a portion of Olam Habah.”
There are sources that seem to imply that the reason we perform the mitzvos in the first place is to inherit Olam Habah – as if life were a playing field where we are to gain points. There is even much contemporary literature that seems to validate this approach. However, the words of our rabbis are clear. The intent of performing mitzvos must be solely to fulfill God’s will.
Firstly, the Mishna (Pirkei Avos 1:3) famously tells us to “be not like a servant that serves his Master for the sake of receiving a reward.” Even more striking are the words of the Rambam (Hilchos Teshuva 10:1), “A person should not say: I will fulfill the mitzvos of the Torah and occupy myself in its wisdom in order to receive all the blessings which are contained within it or in order to merit the life of the world to come.” And further, “Anyone who occupies himself with the Torah in order to receive reward or in order to protect himself from retribution is considered as one who is not occupied for G-d’s sake.” Clearly, a Jew’s motivating drive in studying Torah or doing mitzvos must not be conditional on receiving reward. His drive should be only to serve and strengthen his relationship with G-d.
But if we are meant to act so altruistically, why is the reward of Olam Habah mentioned so frequently? What good is there for us to know which mitzvos ensure our eternal reward if we are not meant to dwell on it?
This week, we read two parshiyos: Behar and Bechukosai. In each of these portions, we find two seemingly unrelated narratives. In the beginning of Behar (25:2), G-d commands the Jewish people to observe shemittah by allowing fields to lie fallow every seventh year (mirroring the weekly Shabbos). Since the Children of Israel were an agriculturally centered nation, fulfilling this mitzvah was no small feat. To willingly cease working one’s food-giving land for an entire year, which goes completely against our instinct and makes absolutely no sense economically, demonstrates an immense trust and faith in G-d. In the view of the Sfas Emes, the second Gerer Rebbe, by actively ceasing to work the land in the seventh year, the Jew boldly shows the world that the primary force in the universe is not nature and its laws, but G-d.
A true life of meaning is achieved not by running after material success but by recognizing that everything is dependent on G-d, and that spiritual growth is truly valuable. And yet, before the holy, spiritually inclined seventh year comes around, there must be six mundane work years. A Jew must live in this world, and work and toil to infuse the mundane with holiness, as the Talmud (Avodah Zarah 3a) says regarding Shabbos, “One who works during the week will be able to eat on Shabbos.”