In Philadelphia hangs a famous bell with a great crack running down its side. The Liberty Bell is inscribed with the King James translation of a verse from this week’s Torah portion, Behar: “Proclaim Liberty Throughout All the Land Unto All the Inhabitants thereof.” This bell was commissioned in 1752 to celebrate fifty years since William Penn’s charter of privileges in what became the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Central to the charter was the extension of freedom of religion for all monotheists. The bell can be said to have been rung first as a symbol of religious freedom. 

Twenty five years later, in the Revolutionary period, the bell came to represent the liberation of the American colonies from British rule. It was rung in Philadelphia to celebrate the Declaration of Independence in July of 1776. In the 19th century, the Liberty Bell symbolized efforts to abolish slavery in America. During the funeral procession of President Lincoln, his body lay in state by the bell, linking his status as the liberator of American slaves to the bell and its biblical proclamation of liberty for all inhabitants throughout the land.

But the task of liberation was not completed, and in the 20th century the Liberty Bell came to symbolize the great cause of civil rights. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s 1963 speech “I have a Dream” is best known for its opening, but it reaches its crescendo at the end when he quotes the old hymn, “My Country ‘Tis of Thee,” and repeats ten times its phrase “let freedom ring” until the entire crowd, and the entire country echoed his great call to freedom.

One broken bell in Philadelphia; four American meanings. But there’s more. The verse from Leviticus 25:10 itself has multiple applications. The full verse reads:

וְקִדַּשְׁתֶּם אֵת שְׁנַת הַחֲמִשִּׁים שָׁנָה וּקְרָאתֶם דְּרוֹר בָּאָרֶץ לְכָל יֹשְׁבֶיהָ /

יוֹבֵל הִוא תִּהְיֶה לָכֶם וְשַׁבְתֶּם אִישׁ אֶל אֲחֻזָּתוֹ וְאִישׁ אֶל מִשְׁפַּחְתּוֹ תָּשֻׁבוּ: 

“And you shall hallow the fiftieth year and call a release in the land to all its inhabitants. A jubilee it shall be for you, and you shall go back each man to his holding, and each man to his clan.”

The jubilee, or yovel, was a super-sabbatical. Like a normal seventh year sabbatical, it canceled debts between people, and terminated terms of indentured servitude. In addition, it canceled all land purchases from the past half-century, allowing poor families to reclaim their ancestral lands. It functioned as a corrective to generational inequality, making an adjustment to give the poorest families in Israel the chance to make a fresh start. 

The yovel law is what the rabbis call a מצווה התלויה בארץ–a commandment that depends on being in the Land of Israel. There are quite a few mitzvot of the Torah that are observed only in the Land of Israel, and yovel is one of them. Actually, there is one part of the mitzvah that applies also outside of Israel. The rabbis noticed how in the middle of our verse, the Torah unnecessarily states יובל היא–it is the jubilee–and asked, but don’t we already know this? 

In the Talmud, Tractate Rosh HaShanah 9b, they said that these extra words teach that part of this mitzvah, the release of indentured servants, applies even outside the land, but only when it is also observed in Israel:

בזמן שנוהג דרור בארץ – נוהג בחוצה לארץ, בזמן שאינו נוהג בארץ אינו נוהג בחוצה לארץ. 

When the release is in practice in Israel, then it is also in practice abroad; when it is not in practice in Israel, then it is not in practice abroad. 

This is a pretty obscure bit of Torah–so why bring it up? First, because I love obscure bits of Torah! But I mention it today because the ancient rabbis were making a very relevant point. What happens far away in Israel affects what we experience everywhere. When there is freedom in Israel–and security, and justice, and prosperity–then these blessings radiate to the entire world. But when there is strife, and inequity, and insecurity in Israel, then Jewish communities all across the world suffer in parallel. This reality has been keenly observed since October 7, reminding us that our fortunes, our future, are inextricably bound together with those of our people in Israel. 

Your class has forged a deep connection to Israel over the years. Many of you spent the past three months in the Land, and all of you have been there and learned its language, history and culture. There are things that you just can’t understand about Israel until you are there. The opposite is also true–there are things that you can’t understand until you leave the land, and experience life as a far-flung minority. Last week I spent time with an Israeli friend who runs a pre-military academy on Kibbutz Hannaton. He told me that there are things about Israel that he is seeing and hearing here in America that had not occurred to him at home. 

What’s true of the Jewish experience in Israel and the diaspora is also true for every person when they leave home and make a fresh start somewhere new. Whether your next home will be in Maryland, Michigan, or Mississippi, Wisconsin, Washington, or wherever–the new perspectives you gain there will allow you to appreciate what you learned in earlier stages of life. There are things that you simply can’t see until you gain some distance. This is why we travel, and it’s why we seek out higher education after high school. Each one of you carries certain precious ideas that are like seeds in your soul, ready to flower in the rich soil of a new school. Your GOA education will continue to mature in college, so long as you continue to nurture your curiosity, and your commitment to community and Jewish identity.  

All of us at GOA are proud of you as individuals and as a group.  For those who participated in Neshama, we have been following along with the journal entries and photographs posted by your class to share your experiences and insights. I was moved to tears by reflections from the concentration camps in Poland, and was impressed by the sensitivity that you showed to displaced Israelis in volunteering on farms and kibbutz kitchens. During my brief visit with you in Jerusalem, I enjoyed singing Kabbalat Shabbat with you outdoors, imagining that the people and the land of Israel were awakening to your presence.

I listened closely to the presentations of those who completed internships, and to your speeches at the banquet Tuesday night. Each in your own way has taken the senior experience seriously, using this final year to test a hypothesis of what you might like to do after school, and thus how you might prepare.

As I read your words, I noticed a deep truth that many of you have perceived already at a young age. Imperfection is not a curse but an opportunity. This country is not perfect. Israel is not perfect. I am not perfect, and neither are you. Like the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia which reportedly cracked at its very first sounding, we each have imperfections. But the crack on this bell has not stopped it from inspiring the expansion of freedom, century after century, and generation after generation. 

The great modern poet and songwriter Leonard Cohen captured the positive power of imperfection very well in the chorus of his song, Anthem: 

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in

And so, class of 2024, embrace the challenge of imperfection, and allow your powerful and beautiful light to shine.