Part 1 – Ois Aleph
Why Does the Torah Delay the Question: “What Will We Eat?”
We will review a sichah from Likkutei Sichos, Chelek Chof-Zayin, the second sichah on Parshas Behar. This is a classic Rashi sichah, yet within it the Rebbe reveals remarkable and profound insights into the commentary of Rashi.
The central question of the sichah is not only what Rashi explains—but why Rashi remains silent where an explanation seems necessary.
The Rebbe begins with a fundamental principle in learning Rashi. Rashi’s purpose in his commentary on Torah is to answer every difficulty that arises in peshuto shel mikra—the simple meaning of the verse. Whenever something in the text requires clarification according to the straightforward reading, Rashi addresses it.
And when Rashi cannot provide a satisfactory answer on the level of peshat, he sometimes says openly: “Eini yodeia”—I do not know.
Therefore, when we encounter a strong question in the text and Rashi says nothing, we must understand why. If Rashi does not comment, it means that according to the simple meaning there is an answer already present in the text itself.
With this principle, the Rebbe turns to the opening of Parshas Behar.
The Torah first teaches the laws of Shemittah: in the seventh year the land must rest. One may not sow the field, prune the vineyard, or work the land in the normal manner. The produce becomes ownerless and available to all.
Afterward, the Torah continues with the laws of Yovel, the Jubilee year, which arrives after seven cycles of Shemittah. The fiftieth year carries its own unique laws, including the return of ancestral fields and the freeing of servants.
Then the Torah adds further laws: when buying and selling land, one may not cheat another person, and all transactions must be conducted honestly.
Only after all of this does the Torah say:
“And if you will say: What will we eat in the seventh year? Behold, we will not sow and we will not gather our produce. Then I will command My blessing for you in the sixth year, and it will produce enough for three years.”
This order is difficult to understand.
The question “What will we eat?” arises immediately when the Torah first introduces Shemittah. The moment the Torah says that one may not sow or harvest in the seventh year, the obvious question is: how will people survive?
If so, why does the Torah wait so long before addressing it?
Why first discuss Yovel? Why continue with laws of commerce? Why speak of blessings for keeping the mitzvos? Only then to return and answer the most basic concern that should have been raised at the outset?
If the promise of blessing were stated as a general reward for keeping Shemittah and Yovel, the order would be understandable. The Torah would simply be listing blessings that come through obedience to Hashem’s commandments.
But that is not how the verse is written.
The blessing appears specifically as an answer to a question:
“And if you will say: What will we eat?”
Since it is framed as a response to a concern, it would seem to belong immediately after the laws of Shemittah—at the moment that concern first appears.
Some commentators explain that the verse is referring not only to Shemittah, but also to a case when Yovel follows Shemittah. In such a situation, there are two consecutive years during which the land is not worked—the forty-ninth year (Shemittah) and the fiftieth year (Yovel). Therefore, the blessing for three years is mentioned only after Yovel, because it addresses both years together.
This would indeed explain the placement of the verse.
However, the Rebbe points out that Rashi does not learn this way.
Rashi explicitly explains that the promise of blessing applies to all Shemittah years in general, not specifically to the Shemittah immediately preceding Yovel.
According to Rashi, the verse is not limited to the rare case of two consecutive fallow years. It is speaking about the regular cycle of Shemittah itself.
If so, the question returns in full force:
Why does the Torah delay this discussion until after the laws of Yovel and other subjects?
And if this is such a strong question in the simple reading of the text, why does Rashi remain silent?
This is the opening challenge of the sichah.
The Rebbe will show that the Torah’s question—“What will we eat?”—is far deeper than it first appears. It is not merely the worry of hunger or survival. It reflects a much more subtle and profound question, and once that is understood, the placement of the verse will become clear.
Part 2 – Ois Beis
Why Does the Torah Say “When You Will Say”?
In Ois Beis, the Rebbe raises a second major question. Not only is the placement of the verse difficult—but even the language of the verse itself requires explanation.
The Torah says:
“V’chi somru ma nochal…”
“And when you will say: What shall we eat?”
At first glance, this wording is surprising.
The verse does not say “If you will say”—as though this concern may or may not arise. Instead, it says “When you will say,” implying certainty. It sounds as though the Torah expects this question to be asked.
Why would the Torah phrase it that way?
Such a question seems to reflect weakness in trust. If Hashem commands the Jewish people to observe Shemittah and let the land rest, surely He will also provide for their needs. Why should the Torah present the question as something natural and inevitable?
The Rebbe notes that if the Torah merely meant perhaps someone might ask, it should have used the word “im”—if.
We find this expression elsewhere in Torah, such as:
“V’im amar yomar ha’eved…”
“If the servant shall say…”
There, im clearly means possibility: if such a case arises.
But here the Torah uses “chi.”
Rashi himself explains in another place that chi can mean certainty. Regarding the verse about a false prophet, the Torah says:
“V’chi somar bilvavecha…”
“And when you say in your heart…”
There Rashi explains: “Asidim atem lomar”—you are destined to say this. In other words, this question will certainly arise.
If so, here too the expression “v’chi somru” means: you will indeed ask.
But that deepens the problem.
Why would the Torah present the Jewish people as certain to ask: “What will we eat?”
It sounds as though doubt and anxiety are expected. It seems to imply a lack of complete reliance on Hashem.
The Rebbe compares this to Avraham Avinu.
When Hashem promised Avraham descendants and blessings, the Torah says:
“V’he’emin baHashem”
“He believed in Hashem.”
What demonstrated Avraham’s faith? He accepted Hashem’s promise without demanding proof. Trust itself means resting in the Divine word without fear.
If so, asking “What will we eat?” appears to be the opposite of faith.
Why then would the Torah formulate the question as a certainty rather than a possibility?
The Rebbe strengthens the question even further.
Immediately before this verse, the Torah has already promised extraordinary blessings.
The verses say:
“The land will give its produce.”
“You will eat to satisfaction.”
“You will dwell securely upon it.”
Rashi explains that dwelling securely means there will be no fear of famine or shortage.
And on the words “You will eat to satisfaction,” Rashi comments that there will be blessing even within one’s innards. Even a small amount of food will satisfy completely.
This is not merely a promise of enough food. It is a promise of supernatural blessing.
If so, the sequence becomes astonishing.
First the Torah assures abundance, security, and satisfaction. Then immediately afterward it says:
“And when you will say: What shall we eat?”
How can such a question arise after such clear promises?
And especially according to the wording “when you will say”—as though this concern is expected and built into the very process.
Once again, the deeper issue is not only the verse itself, but Rashi’s silence.
Why does Rashi not address what seems to be a powerful question in the simple reading of the text?
The Rebbe therefore leads us to a new understanding.
The question “What will we eat?” is not, in truth, a challenge to faith.
It is not the complaint of someone doubting whether Hashem can provide.
Rather, it is the question of a thoughtful and intelligent person who fully believes in Hashem’s blessing—but seeks to understand how that blessing will be revealed.
If the fields are not planted, and nothing is naturally growing, through what form will the blessing come?
The question is not whether there will be blessing.
The question is how the blessing will become visible in the world.
This new approach will be developed further in the next section, after the Rebbe first analyzes another Rashi in Parshas Bo.
Part 3 – Ois Gimmel
Why Does Rashi Bring the Four Sons Here?
The Rebbe now begins to explain why Rashi does not comment directly in our parshah on the questions raised earlier—both regarding the placement of the verse “V’chi somru ma nochal” and regarding the surprising language, “when you will say.”
The Rebbe introduces a beautiful principle:
Sometimes Rashi does not repeat an explanation in the current parshah because the answer has already been taught earlier. When the child learning Chumash reaches this verse, he is expected to remember a similar verse he learned before, and through that earlier Rashi the present question is automatically resolved.
That is what happens here.
When the ben chamesh l’mikra learns the words “V’chi somru ma nochal”—“And when you will say: What shall we eat?”—he remembers a similar expression from the end of Parshas Bo.
There the Torah says:
“Vehayah ki yishalcha bincha machar leimor mah zos…”
“And it shall be when your son will ask you tomorrow, saying: What is this?”
The wording is similar: a future question introduced with the language ki.
Therefore, to understand our verse in Behar, we must first understand Rashi’s explanation there in Parshas Bo.
The Child Who Asks “Mah Zos”
The son in Parshas Bo asks only two simple words:
“Mah zos?”
“What is this?”
He does not ask clearly. He gives no details. He does not formulate a structured question. He simply reacts: “What is this?”
Rashi explains that this is the question of a tinok tipesh—a foolish or undeveloped child who does not know how to ask intelligently or specifically.
He senses that something is happening, but he lacks the ability to express himself properly.
Then Rashi adds:
“U’bemakom acher hu omer…”
“In another place the verse says…”
There, in Parshas Va’eschanan, the son asks:
“Mah ha’eidos v’hachukim v’hamishpatim…”
“What are the testimonies, statutes, and laws…?”
That child asks with clarity, depth, and precision.
This is the wise son.
Rashi then brings the famous principle:
“Dibrah Torah k’neged arba banim.”
The Torah speaks corresponding to four sons:
- the wise son (chacham),
- the wicked son (rasha),
- the simple son (tam),
- and the one who does not know how to ask (she’eino yodeia lishol).
The Rebbe’s Question
The Rebbe asks: why does Rashi need to bring all of this here?
In Parshas Bo, Rashi is explaining only the words “mah zos.” If so, it would seem sufficient to say that this is the question of a simple or undeveloped child.
Why bring in the wise son from another place?
Why suddenly introduce the idea of four sons?
And if Rashi wants to teach that the Torah speaks about four different types of children, why wait until here?
Earlier in Parshas Bo, the Torah already mentions another son who asks:
“Mah ha’avodah hazos lachem?”
“What is this service to you?”
There Rashi explains that this is the wicked son.
Soon after that, the Torah commands:
“V’higadeta l’vincha…”
“You shall tell your son…”
There Rashi explains that this refers to the child who does not know how to ask, and therefore the parent must begin the conversation.
So Rashi had already identified two sons earlier:
- the wicked son,
- and the one who does not know how to ask.
If Rashi’s purpose were simply to inform us that there are four sons in total, he should have said so there.
He could have explained that in later verses we will also meet the simple son and the wise son.
Why wait until the verse of “mah zos” to introduce the full structure of the four sons?
A Deeper Purpose
The Rebbe therefore concludes that Rashi is not merely giving us a list of four sons.
Rather, the placement of this explanation here is exact and necessary.
The verse “mah zos” and the contrast to the wise son contain a deeper lesson that will help us understand not only Parshas Bo—but also our question in Parshas Behar.
Through this Rashi, we will come to understand that not every question in Torah comes from rebellion or lack of faith.
Sometimes two people ask similar questions, yet one question comes from confusion and limitation, while another comes from wisdom and depth.
And with that key, the Rebbe will soon explain that “What shall we eat?” in our parshah is not a complaint of disbelief—but the thoughtful question of a believing and intelligent person seeking to understand how Hashem’s blessing will become visible in the world.
Part 4 – Ois Daled
The Four Sons Are Found Throughout the Torah
In Ois Daled, the Rebbe begins a major shift in understanding. Until now, we have assumed that the teaching of the Four Sons belongs only to the Pesach Seder. The Rebbe explains that according to Rashi, this is not so. The concept of the Four Sons applies to the Torah as a whole.
The Common Understanding
Usually, when we hear the phrase:
“Dibrah Torah k’neged arba’ah banim”
“The Torah speaks corresponding to four sons,”
we immediately think of the Haggadah.
We imagine four children sitting at the Seder table:
- the wise son,
- the wicked son,
- the simple son,
- and the child who does not know how to ask.
The obligation of Sippur Yetzias Mitzrayim is then to answer each child according to his level and personality.
That is certainly true in the realm of Midrash, Halachah, and the Haggadah.
But the Rebbe explains: this is not the intent of Rashi.
Rashi’s task is always to explain peshuto shel mikra—the straightforward meaning of the verses. Therefore, when Rashi quotes the phrase “Dibrah Torah k’neged arba’ah banim,” he means something broader and deeper:
The Torah itself addresses four different types of children throughout its text.
Not only on Pesach night.
The “Mah Zos” Child Is Not Asking About Pesach
The Rebbe points out something fundamental.
In Parshas Bo, the verse says:
“Vehayah ki yishalcha bincha machar leimor mah zos…”
“And when your son asks you tomorrow, saying: What is this?”
We usually associate this with the Haggadah and the simple son.
But in the context of the Chumash, that verse is not speaking about the Seder at all.
It appears in the section discussing the mitzvah of Bechor—sanctifying the firstborn and redeeming the firstborn son.
The child is asking about Pidyon HaBen and the laws of Bechor.
That means that according to Rashi, the “Mah Zos” child is not asking about matzah, maror, or the Pesach night rituals. He is asking about another mitzvah entirely.
This changes everything.
It means the Four Sons are not limited to one evening or one mitzvah. The Torah encounters these four personalities in different areas of Jewish life.
Why Rashi Calls Him a “Tinok Tipesh”
This also explains why Rashi uses an unusual phrase.
Instead of calling this child a tam (simple), Rashi calls him a:
“Tinok tipesh”
“A foolish child.”
Why the stronger term?
The Rebbe explains:
When it comes to the Seder, a person may be confused even without being foolish. Pesach night contains many details:
- matzah
- maror
- korban Pesach
- Hallel
- many rituals and categories
A child who says “What is this?” in that setting may simply be unsophisticated or inexperienced. He is a tam.
But here, in the section of Bechor, the mitzvah is relatively straightforward and contains fewer complexities.
If a child still cannot formulate any question beyond “What is this?” it reflects a lower level of understanding. Therefore Rashi calls him a tinok tipesh.
The wording is exact.
The Wise Son Also Asks Beyond Pesach
The Rebbe extends the same principle to the wise son.
When the Torah says:
“Mah ha’eidos v’hachukim v’hamishpatim…”
“What are the testimonies, statutes, and laws…?”
According to the plain meaning of the verse, the wise son is not asking only about the Seder either.
He is asking a broad question about all of Torah:
What are these categories of mitzvos that Hashem commanded?
And the answer given in the verses is likewise broad:
We were slaves in Egypt, Hashem took us out, and He commanded us these laws.
This is not a narrow Pesach conversation. It is a Torah-wide conversation.
Why Rashi Did Not Mention the Four Sons Earlier
Now the Rebbe answers a previous question.
Why did Rashi wait until the verse of Mah Zos to mention the Four Sons? Earlier in Parshas Bo, Rashi had already discussed:
- the wicked son,
- and the child who does not know how to ask.
Why not say then that there are four sons?
Because those earlier verses deal specifically with the mitzvos of Pesach night.
By contrast:
- the tinok tipesh is asking about Bechor,
- the wise son is asking about mitzvos in general.
These are different subjects and different contexts.
Therefore, it would have been incorrect to group them together earlier.
Only here, once the Torah has shown multiple types of questions across multiple mitzvos, does Rashi reveal the larger principle:
The Torah speaks to four kinds of children throughout Torah life.
The Deeper Direction
This insight now prepares the way for our original question in Parshas Behar.
If the Torah speaks differently to different types of questioners, then not every question reflects the same inner attitude.
Some questions come from rebellion.
Some from simplicity.
Some from confusion.
Some from wisdom.
And therefore, when the Torah says:
“And when you will say: What shall we eat?”
we must ask not only what the question is—but who is asking it.
That will be the next step in the Rebbe’s explanation.
Part 5 – Ois Hei
Why Does Rashi Suddenly Bring the Wise Son?
In Ois Hei, the Rebbe returns to the powerful question raised earlier. If the wise son’s question is about a completely different subject than the tinok tipesh who asks “Mah zos?”—then why does Rashi place them together? Why, after explaining the foolish child’s question, does Rashi immediately add: “In another place the verse says the question of a wise son”?
At this stage, the question is even stronger than before.
We already established that the two sons are not discussing the same topic:
- The tinok tipesh is asking about the mitzvah of Bechor and Pidyon HaBen.
- The wise son is asking about the categories of mitzvos in general: eidos, chukim, and mishpatim.
If so, what connection is there between them?
And if the only connection is that both are sons asking questions, then why did Rashi not mention all four sons earlier—when discussing the wicked son and the one who does not know how to ask?
The Rebbe now reveals a beautiful explanation.
Why Earlier Only Two Sons Were Mentioned
In the earlier verses of Parshas Bo, the Torah addresses:
- the wicked son, who distances himself from the community,
- and the son who does not know how to ask.
Why does the Torah speak specifically to them?
Because these two children are spiritually vulnerable.
The wicked son may not participate at all. Since he excludes himself from the community, he risks disconnecting from the mitzvah of Pesach entirely.
The child who does not know how to ask is also in danger—not because of rebellion, but because of ignorance. He does not even realize there is something to ask about. Without help, he may remain uninvolved and unaware.
Therefore the Torah commands:
“V’higadeta l’vincha”
“You shall tell your son.”
Rashi explains that one must open the conversation with words that draw the heart. We do not wait for such a child to ask. We reach out first.
These two sons require special intervention.
That is why the Torah speaks to them earlier.
What About the Other Sons?
By contrast, one might assume that the other children—the wise son and the simple or foolish son—do not need special attention.
They are already engaged.
They ask questions.
They are present.
They are interested.
Perhaps they do not fully understand, but there is no concern that they will abandon the mitzvah entirely.
If so, one could think that the Torah is not obligated to spell out how to answer them.
But then comes our verse:
“Vehayah ki yishalcha bincha machar leimor mah zos…”
“And when your son asks you tomorrow, saying: What is this?”
Now the Torah reveals something new.
The Torah cares not only about children in danger of disconnecting. The Torah cares even about a child who is already involved but lacks understanding.
Even the tinok tipesh must be answered.
Even a child asking a weak or undeveloped question deserves explanation, guidance, and education.
This teaches two major principles:
1. The Obligation to Educate Extends Beyond Pesach
Until now, one might have thought the special obligation to answer children applies only to the mitzvah of telling the story of the Exodus on Pesach night.
But here the Torah commands education regarding another mitzvah entirely—the laws of Bechor.
So we now see that this is a Torah-wide principle.
2. Every Type of Child Must Be Taught
If the Torah requires an answer for a tinok tipesh, then certainly the Torah must also provide guidance for the wise son.
If a child with limited understanding deserves response, how much more so a child whose mind is deep, searching, and refined.
And that is why Rashi now says:
“U’bemakom acher hu omer…”
“In another place the verse says…”
There too, the Torah addresses the wise son.
The Meaning of “The Torah Speaks to Four Sons”
Now Rashi’s concluding phrase becomes clear:
“Dibrah Torah k’neged arba’ah banim.”
This does not mean only that the Haggadah has four sons at the Seder table.
It means that throughout Torah, we find instruction for how to guide every kind of child:
- the wise child,
- the wicked child,
- the simple or foolish child,
- and the one who does not know how to ask.
The Torah leaves no child behind.
Some need encouragement.
Some need answers.
Some need inspiration.
Some need challenge.
Some need patient explanation.
Some need to be drawn in with warmth.
But every child has a place in Torah.
The Educational Message
The Rebbe’s insight carries a timeless lesson.
Jewish education is not one-size-fits-all.
Different souls ask different questions.
Different personalities need different approaches.
Different minds open through different doors.
The Torah itself models this truth.
It speaks in many voices because it speaks to every Jew.
And once we understand that Torah questions come from different kinds of questioners, we are ready to return to our verse in Behar:
“And when you will say: What shall we eat?”
That question too must now be understood not merely by its words—but by the kind of person who is asking it.
Part 6 – Ois Vav
“What Will We Eat?” — The Question of the Wise Son
The Rebbe now returns to our original verse in Parshas Behar and applies the principle established earlier: whenever the Torah records a question about a mitzvah, we must determine which type of “son” is asking. Not every question reflects rebellion, doubt, or weakness. Sometimes a question is the mark of wisdom.
The Torah says:
“V’chi somru: Mah nochal bashanah hashevi’is?”
“And when you will say: What shall we eat in the seventh year?”
At first glance, the question sounds troubling. It appears to express anxiety: How can we survive if we do not plant or harvest?
But the Rebbe explains that this is not the question of a skeptic or a doubter. It is the question of the ben chacham.
Not Every Question Is a Challenge
When a wise child asks about Torah, his purpose is not to reject the mitzvah. He asks in order to understand.
He seeks clarity.
He wants to grasp the details.
He desires insight into how the Divine command will function in practical reality.
This is exactly the nature of the wise son’s question:
“What are the testimonies, statutes, and laws?”
He is not refusing to obey. He is asking thoughtfully and precisely.
So too here.
The question “What will we eat?” is not a complaint against Shemittah. It is not an attempt to avoid the mitzvah. It is a sincere inquiry into how Hashem’s blessing will become manifest.
Why the Torah Places the Question at the End
This explains why the Torah does not ask the question immediately after introducing Shemittah.
Had the Torah said right away:
“You must let the land rest… and if you ask, what will we eat?”
it might sound as though the concern is practical fear:
How can we manage?
How can we possibly keep this mitzvah?
That would suggest a weak or resistant question.
But the Torah delays the question until after:
- the laws of Yovel,
- the commandments of honesty in commerce,
- and the promises of blessing and security.
The Torah has already declared:
- the land will give its produce,
- you will eat to satisfaction,
- you will dwell securely.
Only then does it say:
“And when you will say: What shall we eat?”
Now the meaning is transformed.
The question is no longer whether Hashem will provide.
The question is how He will provide.
The Wise Son Wants to Understand the Mechanism of Blessing
The wise son hears the promises and believes them fully.
He knows Hashem can sustain His people.
But he asks:
In what form will this blessing come?
Where will the food come from if nothing is planted?
How does abundance emerge in a year of rest?
Could Hashem send manna from heaven again, as He did in the wilderness for forty years?
Could sustenance come through a miraculous new channel?
The wise son is not challenging the promise. He is exploring its expression.
Hashem’s Answer
The Torah responds:
“V’tzivisi es birchasi lachem bashanah hashishis, v’asas es hatvuah lishlosh hashanim.”
“I will command My blessing for you in the sixth year, and it will produce enough for three years.”
The blessing will come not through manna, but through the natural world itself.
The sixth year’s crop will contain extraordinary abundance.
The earth will yield more than expected.
The ordinary channel of agriculture will become the vessel for supernatural blessing.
This itself is a profound lesson.
Hashem often works through the world rather than outside the world.
He places infinite blessing into finite vessels.
A Deeper Message
The Rebbe’s explanation teaches a timeless principle in avodas Hashem.
There are two kinds of questions:
One question seeks escape.
Another seeks understanding.
One asks because it does not want responsibility.
Another asks because it wants to fulfill responsibility more deeply.
The Torah honors the second kind of question.
Judaism does not fear thoughtful inquiry. On the contrary, the wise son is praised for asking.
Faith is not silence.
Faith includes the desire to understand how Divine truth enters human life.
So too in every generation.
A person may ask:
How will I grow spiritually in my circumstances?
How will I support my family while keeping Torah values?
How will blessing reach me through the realities of life?
Such questions, when asked sincerely, are not weakness.
They are the questions of the wise son.
And the answer remains:
Hashem’s blessing will come.
Sometimes in ways beyond nature.
Sometimes through nature itself.
But always with Divine purpose and precision.
Part 7 – Ois Zayin
Why Does the Wise Son Ask Again Every Shemittah?
The Rebbe now turns to a deeper question. If we have already explained that “What shall we eat?” is the question of the wise son, then another difficulty arises.
Why would this question return again and again?
Once the Jewish people have already experienced earlier Shemittah cycles, they have seen the answer fulfilled. They have witnessed Hashem’s promise:
“I will command My blessing for you in the sixth year.”
If so, why does the Torah continue to frame this as an ongoing question?
Should not experience settle the matter once and for all? Why ask again: “What shall we eat?”
Why the Torah Uses Questions and Answers
The Rebbe first notes a broader principle.
Many times in Torah, matters are presented not merely as statements, but in the form of question and answer.
Why?
Because Torah is eternal.
If the Torah records a question, that means the question itself carries an eternal lesson. It is not only an ancient concern that once existed and then disappeared. It is a living issue that can arise in every generation and within every person.
So too here.
The question “What shall we eat?” remains part of Torah because it remains relevant.
The Earlier Explanation: The Presence of Yesh
Elsewhere, the Rebbe explains that Shemittah represents bittul hayesh—the surrender of selfhood and ego before Hashem.
Ordinarily, a person experiences himself as an independent being, a yesh—a separate entity with needs, plans, and concerns.
Through Shemittah, he lets go of control.
He stops planting.
He stops managing the field in the usual way.
He releases ownership.
He trusts Hashem.
Yet as long as a person still feels himself as a separate being, there remains room for question and concern.
Therefore, each cycle the Torah reassures him anew:
“I will command My blessing.”
However, the Rebbe notes that this explanation fits more naturally if the question were one of anxiety or resistance.
But we have already established that this is the question of the wise son—not a selfish or fearful challenge.
So why does the wise son ask again?
Because the Miracle Is Beyond All Logic
The Rebbe answers with a profound insight.
The blessing of the sixth year is not merely greater than nature.
It is the opposite of nature.
Normally, land becomes weaker through continuous use. Year after year of planting and harvesting drains the soil.
Indeed, one of the practical benefits of Shemittah is that the land rests and regains strength.
Yet the Torah says that specifically in the sixth year—after years of cultivation, when the land should be at its weakest—it will suddenly produce enough for three years.
This is not simply unusual.
It runs directly contrary to the expected pattern of nature.
The weakest year becomes the most abundant year.
That is why the wise son asks again.
Not because he doubts Hashem.
Not because he resists the mitzvah.
But because he recognizes that this blessing transcends ordinary logic completely.
His question expresses wonder.
How can such a thing be?
How does blessing appear in a form so opposite to the normal order?
The Meaning of the Repeated Question
Even after seeing the miracle before, the wise son still asks.
And that itself reveals the greatness of the miracle.
Some miracles become familiar. They can be absorbed into habit.
But a miracle that stands entirely beyond reason remains astonishing every time it occurs.
Each new Shemittah cycle renews the same sense of amazement:
How can the weakest produce the greatest?
How can limitation become abundance?
How can surrender become security?
The answer remains:
“I will command My blessing.”
A Personal Lesson
This teaching applies far beyond agriculture.
There are moments in life when a person feels depleted, exhausted, or empty—the “sixth year” state, when one seems to have the least strength left.
And yet, precisely there, Hashem can reveal the greatest blessing.
The place that appears weakest may become the source of unexpected abundance.
The challenge that seems impossible may become the opening for Divine help.
The wise person does not stop asking.
But his question is not despair—it is awe.
How can this happen?
And Torah answers:
Because when blessing comes from Hashem, it is not bound by the calculations of nature or the limits of logic.
Part 8 – Ois Ches
The Sixth Millennium and the Blessing of Redemption
In the final section of the sichah, the Rebbe reveals the deeper spiritual dimension of the mitzvah of Shemittah and its relevance to our own generation. The cycle of six working years followed by the seventh year of rest is not only an agricultural law—it also reflects the entire history of the world.
Chazal teach that the six years and the seventh year correspond to the six thousand years during which the world exists in its present state, followed by the seventh millennium—the era of rest, holiness, and Divine revelation.
Thus:
- Six years of labor correspond to the six thousand years of human history.
- The seventh year corresponds to the seventh millennium, the age of redemption and peace.
The Eternal Question in Our Time
With this in mind, the verse takes on a new meaning:
“V’chi somru: Mah nochal bashanah hashvi’is?”
“And when you will say: What shall we eat in the seventh year?”
This becomes the question of our generation.
We stand at the close of the “sixth year,” near the end of the six thousand years of exile and labor, awaiting the coming of Moshiach and the dawn of the seventh millennium.
And we ask:
How can we possibly reach that stage?
How can our generation bring the Geulah?
We see our own weakness compared with earlier generations.
Previous generations possessed towering scholarship, greater spiritual sensitivity, and greater clarity. By contrast, we often feel ourselves diminished by the decline of the generations.
How then can we be the ones to usher in the era of redemption?
This is the inner meaning of the question:
“What shall we eat in the seventh year?”
How will we have the spiritual nourishment, strength, and merit to enter the age of redemption?
Hashem’s Promise to the Final Generation
To this the Torah responds:
“V’tzivisi es birchasi…”
“I will command My blessing.”
The Rebbe explains that our avodah in the final stage of exile may appear weak and limited, like a worn field in the sixth year.
Yet it carries a unique quality: mesirus nefesh, perseverance, and service beyond logic.
We continue to serve Hashem despite darkness.
We continue to learn, pray, and do mitzvos despite confusion.
We continue to believe despite exile.
That itself draws a special blessing from Above.
The very weakness of the generation becomes the setting for extraordinary Divine assistance.
Produce for Three Years
The Torah continues:
“V’asas es hatvuah lishlosh hashanim.”
“It will produce enough for three years.”
The Rebbe explains that these “three years” allude to multiple stages of future revelation.
Not only will there be redemption—but ascending levels of redemption, revelation after revelation, higher and higher manifestations of Divine truth.
This is reflected in the verse:
“Yechayenu miyomayim, bayom hashlishi yekimeinu v’nichyeh lefanav.”
“He will revive us after two days; on the third day He will raise us up, and we will live before Him.”
The “third day” represents the highest stage of renewal and closeness to Hashem.
Thus the blessing of “three years” hints that from the labor of exile we will merit not merely survival, but abundant and expanding revelation.
A Message of Hope
This final teaching transforms the entire parshah into a message for our time.
We may look at ourselves and ask:
Are we strong enough?
Are we worthy enough?
How can such a generation bring Moshiach?
The Torah answers:
Do not measure only by visible strength.
The sixth year appears weak, yet it contains the greatest blessing.
The final generation may appear diminished, yet it carries the power to complete history.
What matters is not external greatness alone, but faithful service, endurance, and dedication to Hashem under difficult conditions.
The Final Lesson of the Sicha
The cycle of Shemittah teaches:
- Human effort matters.
- Trust in Hashem matters.
- Questions can be holy when they seek understanding.
- Divine blessing can transcend all limits.
- And the weakest stage may become the doorway to the greatest revelation.
May we merit speedily to see the fulfillment of the promise in its fullest sense—with the coming of Moshiach, the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash, and entry into the eternal “seventh year,” the era of peace and redemption.