Parshas Behar starts off with the mitzvah of counting the years until shmitah. Seven years are counted, and the seventh year is actually the shmitah year. We then count again seven cycles of shmitta years, and the fiftieth year is the year of yovel. There seems to be a difference between these two countings. The first counting is seven years that are counted and then the seventh year that we count is itself the sanctified year of shmitah. The Yovel year on the other hand comes after we've finished counting the seven cycles, and after that the fiftieth year is yovel, which we need to establish by proclaiming it. It seems as if our counting did not quite accomplish the ‘yovel’ year. This is eerily reminiscent of the sefira counting, where we count seven weeks of seven days each, and with that our counting is finished. The fiftieth day is then shavous. It seems as if there are two systems in place regarding ‘counting’, which we need to better understand.
One more event reminiscent of this is the yom tov of Sukkos. There are seven days of yom tov, followed by an eighth day which is somewhat connected and yet somewhat disconnected. It seems as if the yom tov proper is seven days and then there is another day of yom tov following our count of seven.
Let us understand the purpose of ‘counting’ as a mitzvah. Counting can be simply a mechanical act of trying to find an aggregate sum. For instance, certain types of halachik “counting” like ziva require seven days of waiting before one can purify oneself. That “counting” is simply a mechanical noting of how many days and how much time has passed. There is no real act of counting that one is obligated to do; as long as the appropriate time period has elapsed that's good enough.
However, both sefiras haomer and the counting towards the yovel require an active counting. When we have a group of pieces, which will together form a greater entity, we have the act of “counting” as a meaningful establishing of the role of each piece in the greater whole. Thus, when a person is assembling a machine of some sort, and he has individual parts, each part is allocated a description of where it fits into the bigger picture. Thus, every single piece has both its own identity and its role as part of the greater structure. Counting Israel’s population is similar. Klal Yisroel consists of twelve distinct tribes, different families in each tribe, and unique individuals in each family. When we count them, we make note of each individual, each family, and their specific tribe, as well as the total of Klal Yisroel. This means that each and every one has a unique place, and together they integrate to form Klal Yisroel. This counting is the way in which we impose the overarching structure so that all the pieces and elements add up to the whole that they're supposed to create.
But then there is a unique phenomenon, where the whole supersedes the sum of its parts. The gemara (Yoma 39a) says that when it comes to the attribute of kedusha, translated loosely as sanctity, a person's actions can never achieve the totality of kedusha. Instead, it says a person does actions that build kedusha in this world, and Hashem endows him with more kedusha from above. The attribute of kedusha required effort on our part, and on top of that an endowment from above. That is how kedusha works. Because kedusha is a quality that really goes beyond our world, it can never be obtained and achieved from within ourselves alone, rather it requires a partnership of our efforts combined with Divine benevolence.
In the Torah, the number seven refers to the totality of our world and existence. The world was created within seven days and therefore the unit of seven days is a description of the totality of human effort and achievement. Whenever the Torah commands us using the number seven, it is there for us to dedicate the totality of our efforts. But then there is another achievement and that is the ‘eighth’ day. It is a day not inherent in our world, but rather endowed from above. It expresses the idea that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Thus, if we count seven full cycles, then on the fiftieth year we are granted yovel from above. Yovel possesses a sanctity that transcends our world; it takes the process that we've been engaged in, the commerce of buying and selling houses and slaves, and undoes it. It restores the world to its natural order as ordained by the Divine. Shmitah, on the other hand, is still within our world. It is a respite and rest from activity but it's not a reversal of the natural economic order.
The same is true of Shavous. Torah is a set of behaviors, that first of all is meant to bring out the best of our accomplishments in this world. A person is supposed to achieve and attain the best character possible to be developed within this world. And thus, we count forty-nine days so that we bring out the best of our middos. But Torah is a lot more than that. It brings in an otherworldliness. It presents not only the laws that make us more moral people within the context of our world, rather it also opens up to us another world of spirituality far beyond the human world. Thus, Torah was given on the fiftieth day rather than the forty-ninth day.
It is an idea that is worthy of bearing in mind as we interact with the world around us. There is an awful lot of noise about how the Torah is meant to make us the most moral people possible. That is certainly true. But those people who trumpet the Torah’s position on every aspect of current events need to remember that Torah is far more than that. Much of the Torah cannot be explained - and should not be explained - in terms of this-worldliness. It is an aberration, truncating the higher part of Torah.
Torah is given on the fiftieth day. It requires forty-nine days of genuine preparation making ourselves better people with our efforts and in the context of this world. But then there is a fiftieth day. It is a gateway to a world beyond.