Dear TBZ Community:
Since the second night of Passover, we have been in the process of counting the forty-nine days of omer. An omer was a unit of measurement in the ancient Temple, most associated with the omer offering or offering a sheaf of grain. “Counting the omer” refers to a period of daily counting, between Pesach and Shavuot, that marks the journey from Egypt to Sinai and the receiving of Torah. We read about the omer in this week’s Torah portion, parshat Emor, as part of the section that describes all the holidays.
Noah Weinberg, TBZ’s Musical Prayer Leader, shared an inspiring kavanah (intention) last Shabbat Nariya about the Omer. He said:
As we gather here tonight, spring is in full swing and we are in the midst of the counting of the omer, the counting of sheaves of grain. From Pesach to Shavuot, we count 7 weeks of 7 days; we count, day-by-day, sheaf-by-sheaf, mystical sefirah (emanations) by mystical sefirah. Unlike the countdowns to the last day of school which are common at this time of year, the Omer we count up. We journey from spring to summer, from freedom to responsibility, from barley to wheat, from flowers to first fruits, from birth to weaning.
In this way the omer is a time of some anxiety, it represents our journey through the desert wilderness, from leaving Egypt to arriving at Sinai, a journey through the unknown. In our ancient agricultural world, this time of harvesting the barley crop and waiting for the wheat crop to ripen was a vulnerable time. An omer is literally a sheaf of barley, and our ancestors, as well as farmers in the Middle East today, watched and waited all winter and early spring as the grain grew, anticipating a harvest that would need to last them the entire next year. The wrong weather or pest, or inability to get the entire done harvest on time, could spoil the crop. Counting each omer, celebrating the harvest of each day, was perhaps a way to stay grounded and take this fraught time of the year one day at a time.
Faced with uncertainty, whether agricultural or from plague or violence, our people have responded by counting each day. Taking this time of year step-by-step.
I have always found the ritual of counting the omer, stopping for a moment each evening to say the blessing and count, to be fulfilling and meaningful, even when done in a rush or what seems to be without the proper kavanah (intention). The practice itself holds its own intention: a routine that lasts forty-nine days and has just one purpose, to count. Although the journey for the Israelites in the desert was filled with uncertainty, I have always found that the counting experience holds the opposite: not just certainty, but the promise of arrival. It is forty-nine days, seven weeks. Not a day more or less. It is concrete with a beginning and an end.
But, I have a confession to make:
This year, I have not been able to steadily count the omer. And as I have been reflecting on that, I feel that something is missing for me, that perhaps I am a bit “lost in the calendar.” The typically grounding experience that allows me to walk in between Passover and Shavuot, from the spring months towards summer, is not steady this year. But this doesn’t like a coincidence: in a way, it mirrors my current state of mind and experience, one of uncertainty and unsteadiness. Since October 7th (222 days ago), the counting has been different, a counting with no end on the horizon (as I write these words, my hands shake and my tears flow). Each day that passes is one too many. The uncertainty of knowing when the last day of this terrible counting will be, makes counting unbearable.
Perhaps the counting of the omer is what I need right now. It is hard to jump in midway through (today is the 23rd day of the omer), but perhaps the practice is one that could remind me that there will be a place of arrival. Maybe as Noah wrote, counting each omer, celebrating the harvest of each day, is the way to stay grounded and take this fraught time of the year one day at a time.
Maybe I will try to jump into this year’s counting as a way to remind myself that even when it is easy to despair, to give up, we find ways to stay grounded, in ritual, in community, in prayer, in action, in celebration, in living meaningful and intentional lives… one day at a time.
I pray that we may have the audacity to build, to believe, to love, to forgive, to create, and to imagine a better world for all human beings, as we count the days of our lives and we count the days ahead of this uncertain time.
May this Shabbat bring blessings and consolation to all of you and your loved ones. May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity. May all those who are ill find healing.
And may the hostages soon be returned to their families and friends; may the Israeli and Palestinian peace workers in the land continue their sacred work and not be deterred or turn away from the vision of peace and dignity for all.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia