Omer 2024 Day 1

Omer Introduction

Omer Overview

The seven-week process of counting the omer prompts us to reflect on what the journey to freedom stirs in each of us. Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) attaches seven sephirot (attributes of God) to each of the seven weeks of the omer, and one to each day, to facilitate our reflection and spiritual growth.

The first day of the omer is chesed within chesed, lovingkindness within lovingkindness.

Day 1: Chesed within Chesed, Lovingkindness within Lovingkindness

This morning, ​I asked my 6-year-old, "What is love?"
She gave me a quizzical look, but thought about it for a minute before answering, "You already know."

You already know. This who​le period of counting the omer is a study in thinking deeply about concepts we​ already know. We know lovingkindness when we feel it, just as we can feel the loneliness of its absence.

I tell my daughters I love them all the time. Sometimes I yell it loudly through the car window as they are walking into school (they are not yet old enough to be embarrassed by that), sometimes I say it quietly, or off-handedly, just a comfortable part of any sentence. Sometimes, I say "I have to tell you a secret" and then whisper it in their ear. That's my favorite, because they both look incredulously at me and respond with, "I know! That's not a secret." And, of course, they're right, but I like how closely they listen to my whisper in that moment, because what I have to say is very important and very personal, even if I sometimes also shout it for the whole schoolyard to hear.

This morning, I came back to my daughter to press her to think more deeply. Not just about what we already know about love, but about what it means. I urged her gently, "I want to know what you think."
She thought again for a moment. "You can't love anybody if you don't love yourself," she said.

It reminded me of the flight safety instructions at the beginning of every flight: if the cabin loses air pressure, oxygen masks will deploy in front of you. Put your own mask on before helping those around you.

Lovingkindness in lovingkindness requires us to love ourselves first. Showing ourselves lovingkindness means that we trust that we are deserving of the love and kindness that we receive from others. It is a measure of self-respect. But loving only ourselves would be selfish and narcissistic. We love ourselves so that we have a self-assured foundation from which to give love to others, just as we secure our own oxygen mask before helping others with theirs. Lovingkindness in lovingkindness is about being in relationship. Love is sometimes big and loud, and sometimes quiet. It is both directed inward, creating a sense of calm and worth within ourselves, and directed outward to the people for whom we care.

As we work our way through the days of the omer, we will need to look both internally to our own selves, and externally to our relationships with others and with God. We need to be kind to ourselves as we reflect on the ways we may not fully measure up to the omer's attributes of God, and show others kindness as they grow as well. To do that, we begin with a foundation of love for ourselves and for others.

Counting the Omer 2024

Skip to Day 1

Every seder looks a little different. Some are all in Hebrew, some are 15 minutes long, some use the Harry Potter Haggadah. But this week at every seder, we will all ask the Four Questions and we will all enumerate the Four Children.

On the second night, toward the end of Hallel after the meal, we will also recite the blessing for the first night of the omer. Keep an eye out for it in your Haggadah - it can be easy to miss at the end!

The omer is the seven-week period between Passover and Shavuot. Mystically, it is a time of reflection and introspection, as we move through time and space from the slavery of the Passover narrative to the covenantal relationship with God that we experience at Sinai. But we don't wait for the end of the second seder to begin self-reflecting, no! The reflection begins early in the first seder with the Four Questions and the Four Children.

The Four Questions prompt us to be aware of our circumstances. The questions all essentially ask: how does context us make us act differently? One morning, the Israelites woke up in bondage and the next morning we were free. How do the events happening around us change us?

The Four Children make us wonder: which child am I? How have I been wise or wicked? When have I been simple? What do I not even know enough to know? The Four Children are models for how to engage with the world and with the people around us.

Counting the omer places us at the seder, seeing ourselves as newly freed slaves, and asks us to reflect on what that journey to freedom and the journey to God will stir in each of us. Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism) attaches seven sephirot (attributes of God) to each of the seven weeks of the omer, to facilitate our reflection and spiritual growth.

The seven sephirot are:

1. Chesed (חסד): loving kindness

2. Gevurah (גבורה): strength, power, justice, bravery

3. Tiferet (תפארת): beauty, balance, compassion

4. Netzach (נצח‎): eternity, endurance, victory

5. Hod (הוד): splendor, majesty, glory, humility

6. Yesod (יסוד): foundation, connection

7. Malchut (מלכות): leadership

Each week and each day have an attribute. The first week is the week is chesed. The first day is chesed, the second is gevurah, and so on, so that each attribute will be paired as we count. You'll see it in action this week as we begin counting together.

Chag Kasher v'Sameach - Happy Passover!

Happy Anniversary to Me! 13 Years Since My Mikvah

On April 8, 2011, I sat before my beit din in Nashville and answered questions about why I wanted to be a Jew. What had drawn me to this religion? What was my favorite thing about Jewish life? About the holidays? Was I prepared to face antisemitism?

In celebration of my 13th year of Jewish life (happy bat mitzvah to my conversion!), I'd like to share an excerpt from my conversion essay:

My inexplicable connection to Judaism has developed over the past two years. It started with a simple convergence of beliefs - my values aligned with the principles of Judaism. The focus on family, community, learning, and curiosity are all values that I share with Judaism and that drew me to the religion. My connection felt more logical than spiritual, and I knew that I could only convert to a religion in which I could connect in every way that I needed. I would settle for nothing less than a religion that matched my values, encouraged my growth, and, most importantly, left me feeling closer to God. For a long time, Judaism fulfilled the first two requirements, but did not make me feel any closer to God.

That feeling I was looking for can only be described as awe. I wanted a religion that not only preached what I believed and challenged me to be a better person, but that also filled me with wonder and a sense of God’s presence. I thought that maybe it was too much to ask for all of these things to align for me in one religion, but for a year, that was all I asked of God. I went to temple every week and prayed that God would connect me with something in all the ways I wanted. “It doesn’t have to be Judaism,” I bargained with God, “as long as it holds the same principles and has songs as fun as V’shamru and as beautiful as Mi Chamocha. Please, God, just give me that connection.”

There were other barriers, like learning Hebrew and the fact that I struggled to comprehend the dual nature of Judaism as a religion and a culture, but with time I became more comfortable with those aspects. Eventually, everything else fell into place for me with Judaism and all I needed was the awe.

God answered my prayers without warning. It was a random weekday, not long after the High Holidays, a year and a half after I had become actively engaged with Judaism. It happened as an epiphany after an otherwise slow, methodical buildup of comfort and understanding. I think I needed that comfort before I could fully connect in the way I wanted and needed with Judaism and with God. There is a concept in Judaism that every Jew, whether Jewish by birth or conversion, is born with a Jewish soul. This sudden epiphany I experienced felt as though my Jewish soul was ignited. This is when I decided to convert.

Today, I also so clearly see na'aseh v'nishma (we will do and we will hear) in my epiphany moment. I "did" Judaism - davened and studied Torah weekly, taught in the Sunday School, kept kosher - and only then did I "hear" God, did I feel fully at home in Judaism and called to begin my conversion process. When I emerged from the mikvah 13 years ago, my rabbis marked it not as the end of my conversion process, but as the beginning of lifelong Jewish learning and growth. So, happy anniversary to me!