Lessons about the Days and Weeks of the Counting of the Omer

As we have just transitioned out of the world and experience of Pesach observance for this year and re-entered our day to day world of Chametz, work and the myriad of tasks on our AFTER THE CHAG list, it is important to step back and consider the lessons we might want to carry with us into the coming days, weeks and months. We even have a frame for them, dictated by our practice. During Sefirat HaOmer, we remain in a heightened state of awareness that will culminate in the celebration of Shavuot and the receiving of Torah, the very reason for our leaving Mitzrayim. On one hand, the cycle is all too familiar and could become dangerously regimented if we are not careful to sometimes walk away from what we already know and be prepared for some new and amazing insight and dimension to the experiences of this season as we move forward. In fact, we are familiar with the many efforts made from Hassidic masters to those in the more liberal lanes of our community, environmentalists, and so many others to do exactly that.

Rambam, in Hilkhot Temidin uMusafin, Chapter 7, states as follows regarding this practice: 22: It is a Mitzvat Aseh to count seven complete weeks from the day of the bringing of the 'Omer, as it says: You shall count for yourselves, from the day after the Shabbat, seven weeks. It is a Mitzvah to count the days along with the weeks, as it says: You shall count fifty days; and we count from the beginning of the day, therefore, he should count at night, from the night of the 16th of Nissan. 23: If he forgot to count at night, he should count during the day. We count standing up; however, if he counted while seated, this is valid.

Many of our Rishonim note that, while this commemorates the land- and sacrifice-based chapters of our history, is it enough to continue this practice just for the purpose as stated by Amimar, “Zecher LeMikdash Hu?” Is it enough to just remember this chapter of our past and the Temple worship that characterized it, or does our counting have an intrinsic and relevant meaning specific to today as well, reflective of our contemporary reality and challenging us in new ways to be and do better?

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks speaks at length about the two different Mitzvot indicated here – to count both the days and the weeks. In the latter case, we are looking at the cycle of life with the end in sight – the way Shammai perceived the time of each week, always pointing towards Shabbat, sometimes missing the opportunity individual days might bring for awe and celebration. In the counting of the days, however, we live for the moment and its value as Hillel taught, and in so doing, we are open to the amazement of that moment which will redefine, heighten and bring more meaning to the cycles as they continue to evolve.

I remember many years ago in my Comparative Religions and Cultures readings during university years, coming across something quite interesting in the Chinese tradition as reflected by the I Ching, or the Yi Jing also known as the Book of Changes, an ancient Chinese book of practice.

There is the prescribed formation of the ancient hexagon, in which fifty yarrow stalks are used in formations of six corners (or in substitution, bamboo skewers or wooden sticks may be used) for the purpose of creating this formation. One stick is to be removed and used as the observer stalk, while placing the rest of the stalks in a prescribed formation, with extremely precise and ordered instructions provided.

As Eliot Weinberger explains:

The I Ching has served for thousands of years as a philosophical taxonomy of the universe, a guide to an ethical life, a manual for rulers, and an oracle of one’s personal future and the future of the state. It was an organizing principle or authoritative proof for literary and arts criticism, cartography, medicine, and many of the sciences, and it generated endless Confucian, Taoist, Buddhist, and, later, even Christian commentaries, and competing schools of thought within those traditions.

As such, it was very detailed and precise in a number of matters relevant to daily living and belief, as well as the maintaining of community. It was reflective of land-based culture, while also holding much more pervasive meanings for its practitioners.

Returning to our own context, Rabbi Sacks compares the individual details of various mitzvot to the cells in our body – with so many parts of each cell and if one part is off, there can be dire consequences. Our challenge is to try to have all parts of each whole element in our lives work together. He teaches as follows:

THE HUMAN BODY CONTAINS 100 TRILLION CELLS. Within each cell is a nucleus. Within each nucleus is a double copy of the human genome. Each genome contains 3.1 billion letters of genetic code, enough if transcribed to fill a library of five thousand books. Each cell, in other words, contains a blueprint of the entire body of which it is a part. The cumulative force of these scientific discoveries is nothing short of wondrous. In ways undreamt of by our ancestors, we now know to what extent the microcosm is a map of the macrocosm. From a single cell, it may be possible to reconstruct an entire organism.

Does this apply to Judaism? I want us to … [consider] an apparently tiny detail of Jewish law – a single cell, as it were, of a highly complex structure. Could it be that patient and detailed study of this fragment will reveal to us something of the totality of Judaism’s spiritual world?

Why do I always find these comparisons so fascinating – because we are all blessed with practices that teach so much if we only pay attention – with some lessons potentially universal in meaning and other elements specific to our journey.

Dr. Avigdor Shachan provides an important examination of Jewish History and the places it has taken us in his book entitled, In the Footsteps of the Lost Ten Tribes. He makes the point that Jewish influences and practices have been found in cultures and groupings with whom the Israelites traded long ago, amongst whom they lived and had contact. Specifically, he analyzes four regions to which the Israelites migrated after the Assyrian exile in 586 bce: Afghanistan, India, Japan and China. These shared and adapted practices are not coincidental as much as causative. I do not believe it is an accident that the numbers and counting of the I Ching Hexagon and Sefirat HaOmer are similar and that both celebrate the produce of the land.

In considering China, Shachan writes as follows:

For almost ninety generations, the remnants [of the Ten Lost Tribes in China] managed to survive…preserving… a handful of customs and commandments… some 150 years before the establishment of the Jewish state, after withstanding the perils of destruction and assimilation, the[se]… last remnants flickered and died.

Yet during that long history of maintaining their identity, there is no doubt in Shachan’s mind that the practices that were brought with the Ten Lost tribes influenced those around them and may even be found in some adopted and adapted versions within the host culture’s practices and traditions. There were temples and gathering places for the Israelite people and their architecture was admired. Sacrificial practices were continued as this group was cut off from the developing Jewish community as we have come to know it in 586 bce and did not bring any awareness of Rabbinic traditions with them. Seasonal sacrifices and practices such as those associated with Pesach and the Omer were practiced with particular attention to detail, serving as critical markers of the community. The Temple of Kaifeng was built by the Israelite population with the same orientation and many features of Solomon’s Beit HaMikdash. Community positions and practices clearly reflected the influence of other cultures with whom there was contact as well as heralded memories of their own Israelite past.

Similar familiar elements are found in other cultures explored by Shachan, such as the conflict between the Pashtus and Pathans which wore on in Afghanistan through modern times, with the Pashtus accusing the Pathans of not being true and loyal Muslims; actually, they were not incorrect, as originally the Pathans are thought to have been from the She’arei Yisrael – the Israelite remnants as indicated by elements maintained from their cultic practice. These B’nai Yisrael would both adopt cultural practices of their host lands while some of their own traditions would become Islamicized and taken on by others. In Japan, Shinto priests continue to wear an overshirt garment that has a striking resemblance to our own Tallit Katan or Tzitzit. In India, more recently, we note that members of the B’nai Menashe would give their little boys at the age of three an Upshirin with a significant twist – namely the hair cut would be placed in a metallic bowl and burned, a nod to the notion of gifts to the gods of the host culture’s religious groupings. This by the way, was the backstory of the panic around Indian hair sheitels some years ago.

So here we sit today, enveloped by our period of mindfulness that comes with Sefirat HaOmer, both evoking our past and continuing to be relevant in our present, reminding us of our own practices and those of communities far away from us in years and physical space, thinking of the cycle of the seven weeks and the individuality of each day anew. Rambam encourages us to engage in this practice as he makes the distinction of some of our Mitzvot, specifically ritual practices as being Mikdash-oriented without being Mikdash-dependent. The Karbanot, for example, are Mikdash-dependent; therefore, not part of our religious life today, for the vast majority of the Jewish world. However, facing Mizrach during prayers, taking of Challah, Sefirat HaOmer and other practices which we continue to maintain these many generations later are Mikdash-oriented, still commanded through their D’araita roots. They remind us of the cycle of Jewish life and history while having a tangible impact on the days we live.

I consider myself truly blessed to do the work I do on so many levels. In my Interfaith work, this season with its cycles and days contains heightened awareness and meaning for our Christian and Muslim friends in faith as well – lessons that I find that cross Lent, Ramadan and Sefirat HaOmer. We are charged to remember that everything comes from God, that we are still dependent on the land and the resources that God gave us, and are charged to protect and tend them well and modestly, as well as act according to our foundational values of respect and honor for all human beings who are God’s created beings are indeed important – yet, we can forget and even worse, ignore them if we do not continue to tend and guard that element of our lives.

As some of us look at values of Chesed, Tzedek, Emunah, Gevurah, Tiferet, and so on, and their interfacing with each other during each day of the cycle of weeks, we can think of new ways these values add meaning to our lives. As we look inside ourselves and take on the challenge to make each day special and consider the meaning of each count of the Omer, we are indeed encouraged to be comforted by the familiarity of the cycle of weeks while being challenged to make each day count.

What would our Rabbis from long ago think of how our society works today?

Last week I completed learning Tractate Avodah Zarah (for this time around, for those of us who understand how study of Gemara works). What just absolutely encouraged and fascinated me and caught my eye repeatedly is how the text and the teachers who are represented in it know that Jews will live amongst people who are not Jews and will have business dealings with them and daily contact. They will see each other on their days of holy and meaningful observance, they will be in the market with them and there will be ongoing interactions. There are many rules and dictates that are to govern those interactions, considering differences in worship, schedule of the week, nature of business conducted, matters of eating together, and so on. In other words, we do not learn that people who are different than us are horrible or harmful or otherwise supposed to be avoided or maligned. Rather, we interact with those around us with respect and regard, honoring our own standards and acknowledging that they have their own modes of practice and behavior as well.

What a critical and valuable lesson for us to take into serious consideration today. Sunday, I had the honor of seeing the work of a wonderful group of people with whom I have been involved come to fruition as we conducted an Interfaith program which is part of a year-long project of learning how to speak with someone different than yourself as well as, and more importantly, how to listen to and validate that person. We acknowledge, as did the Rabbis referenced in the discussions above, that we do live in an integrated community where we are all juggling the maintaining of our core identity with the acceptance and validation of others, in the hope that we will receive the same, and more importantly, because this is what the foundational principles upon which our texts are based teach us to do.

This is to me the most appropriate approach we are to take, especially for those of us who hold ourselves accountable to The One Who Created Us to inhabit and protect and guard this world, its resources and the many people who are part of our human family collective. Yet, we continue to be bombarded by the reporting and impact of incidents that do not honor this foundational truth of our existence and purpose for being here – to honor God and the many different peoples and resources God created. Coming together to learn about one another, share stories and interact in appropriate ways throughout our lives is constructive. It is healing. It allows us to accomplish many wonderful things. It is the way that I and many others think that God intended for this world and the lives lived in it.

I know many people who have stopped watching the news or reading newspapers. Why? Because, too much is subjectively sifted, histrionics have taken over, and we have forgotten how or just don’t want to listen any more. Too many would rather just shout out those who disagree with them, living in the myth of their own determined and exclusive truth, and in so doing close themselves off from the many wonderful people who are all around us, from whom we can learn and with whom we can have serious meaningful interactions or just take a walk and enjoy each other’s company. WE ARE TIRED!

I get up every morning and I see the URGENT messages that invade my inbox about the tragedy from the perspective of the left or the emergency and dangerous situation from the right. What I find dangerous and tragic is the complete break between those in our society who cannot come together for civil conversations. That is the name of the project in which Sunday’s program was a part – Civil Conversations. It is not a new phenomenon – I have participated in many iterations of this intentional bringing together of people who are not all the same for dialogue, to share some good cookies and to laugh a bit, cry a bit and hug each other in friendship and a feeling of belonging with each other through the years. What is sad to me is that for too many, WE HAVE FORGOTTEN again how to do this in too many corridors in our world.

The people who came together Sunday either know how to connect with another human being, whether you agree or disagree, in kindness and in empathic concern; or they were willing to learn some skill sets to widen their own worlds. The question we always ask is how to we get everyone who really needs to be at the table to come there and join us? Here is a surprise – they probably will not come. BUT, if those of us at the table can take our skill sets and practice kind words, careful listening and validation of the other in our daily lives, in our business dealings, while walking around our neighborhood and in every aspect of our lives, we will all be spreading random acts of kindness (remember that phrase?!) and words of caring to others.

Then we will not be forgetting the lessons of our past, but remembering that the reality of living together with others was accommodated and that there are even standards of how we do so meaningfully and intentionally…. And then perhaps we can focus more on the human beings we are supposed to be instead of shouting out and losing our connection to each other, while our identities and practices remain intact. I think the Rabbis of the Talmud would approve.