The Zohar portrays Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai’s death not as a separation, but as a joyous, revelatory (and fiery) union with the divine.
Lag Ba’omer (the 33rd day of the counting of the Omer) is the largest pilgrimage in the Jewish world. Every year, tens of thousands flock to the tomb of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, the undisputed hero of the Zohar.
The Zohar describes in great length the death and burial of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, also known by the moniker Rashbi, in Meron, near Safed (Tzfat). His significance and the presence of his grave in Meron seem to be the main impetus for the development of Safed as an important Jewish center of Kabbalah in the 16th century. While some scholars have explained the rise of Safed through economic developments (in particular, the burgeoning wool industry in the Galilee), these explanations underestimate the esteem in which Jews exiled from Spain in the late 15th century held the Zohar and its hero.
This text recounting Rashbi’s death and burial is recited at his grave in Meron every year, and many kabbalistic Jews also say it at the time of a person’s death. Just as the death of Moses draws the Torah to a close, Rashbi’s death appears near the end of the Zohar, creating a parallel between Moses, giver of Torah, and Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, giver of the esoteric Torah.
While Moses’ death is mournful and private, attended only by God, the death of Rashbi is marked by gathering, Torah teaching and the revelation of secrets. There is weeping, yes, but also joy and exaltation, because his death is understood as a longed-for union with the divine. For this reason, the day of Rashbi’s death is called a hillula — a wedding celebration.
The Zohar has much to say on the subject. With the assistance of the Pritzker translation, I will focus below on just a few selected passages from this 20-page homily.
On that day when the companions gathered in the house of Rabbi Shimon, and he was arranging his affairs to depart from the world — and before him were his son, Rabbi Elazar, Rabbi Abba and the rest of the companions, and the house was full …
As they were sitting down, Rabbi Shimon opened his eyes and saw what he saw; fire whirled through the house. Rabbi Shimon said, “This hour is an hour of favor, and I want to enter without shame into the world that is coming. Here, holy words that I have not revealed until now, I wish to reveal in the presence of Shekhinah — before they say that I departed deficiently. This is why they were concealed in my heart: to enter with them into the world that is coming.”
Zohar 3:287b–296b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
Rashbi’s death becomes the moment of his final revelation, complete with flames reminiscent of the smoke on Mount Sinai that accompanied the revelation of Torah. That revelation comes, naturally, in the form of an interpretation of scripture. Rabbi Shimon tells his disciples:
“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me” (Song of Songs 7:11). All the days that I have been bound to this world, I have been bound in a single bond with the blessed Holy One. Because of this, now his desire is for me — He and this whole holy entourage — to hear in joy concealed words and praise for the Holy Ancient One, concealed of all concealed. Separate, separated from all, yet not separate; for all are joined to it, and it is joined to all. It itself is all! Ancient of ancients, concealed of all concealed. Arrayed and not arrayed. Arrayed in order to sustain all; not arrayed, for it cannot be found.
Zohar 3:287b–296b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
All of Rashbi’s life, he was bound to God. Death is not separation or severing of that bond, but consummation — the fulfillment of the bond.
As death approaches, Rabbi Shimon proceeds to offer up his secrets, sharing kabbalistic wisdom until his final breath. And like his teacher Rabbi Akiva, whose soul famously departed with the word “one,” Rashbi also dies with a significant word on his lips, as reported by one of his companions:
Rabbi Abba said: The Supernal Holy Lamp had not finished saying “life” before his words subsided. I was writing, intending to write more, yet I heard nothing. I did not raise my head, for the light was too great and I could not look. Just then, I trembled. I heard a voice saying, “Length of days and years of life and peace they will add to you” (Proverbs 3:2). I heard another voice: “Life he asked of You — You gave it to him, length of days forever and ever” (Psalms 21:5).
Zohar 3:287b–296b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
Rashbi’s final word is “life.” And as he says it, Rabbi Abba, furiously scribbling notes, is unable to lift his own gaze from the page because so much light emanates from the bed.
There is no sharper paradox than marking death with the word “life,” but here it is fitting. Rashbi’s final exhalation of the word “life” emphasizes the idea that, more than physical states, life and death are spiritual ones: one may be physically alive yet spiritually dead, or physically dead yet full of life — through having lived a meaningful life close to God.
Let’s look together at one more piece of text, which describes the flames:
All that day, fire did not cease from the house. No one reached him — no one could, since light and fire surrounded him all day long. I flung myself on the ground and wailed.
After the fire disappeared, I saw that the Supernal Lamp, Holy of Holies, had departed from the world — enwrapped, lying on his right, his face smiling.
Rabbi Elazar, his son, rose, took his hands and kissed them. As for me, I licked the dust beneath his feet. The companions wanted to weep, but they could not utter a sound. Then their weeping began.
After his bier emerged, it rose in the air, fire flaring before it. They heard a voice: Come and enter! Gather for the wedding celebration of Rabbi Shimon. “He shall enter into peace; they shall rest upon their couches” (Isaiah 57:2).
Zohar 3:287b–296b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
This homily of Rashbi’s death, which is not merely studied in the abstract but, as previously mentioned, recited and even performed year after year, presents the quintessential kabbalistic model of holy death: not an ending but a completion, not a loss or separation but a union. Rashbi’s death is the final revelation of the giver of the hidden Torah. On Lag Ba’omer, people ascend to Meron not only to mourn, but to participate in the joy of that hillula.
The Zohar tells us that Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai did not leave this world through gradual decline, apathy or loneliness. He departed surrounded by his disciples, still teaching Torah and leaving behind a life fully lived. His death — with the word “life” on his lips — offers a model not only for a worthy death, but also for life itself.
Passover’s Afterglow
The Zohar reflects on the opportunity of Pesach Sheni, Second Passover.
Rabbi Ebn Leader
The Torah provides for a Second Passover (Pesach Sheni), an opportunity to make up the paschal sacrifice prescribed on the 14th day of the month of Nisan: “Speak to the Israelite people, saying: Regarding anyone, whether you or your posterity, who is defiled by a corpse or is on a long journey and would offer a Passover sacrifice to God, they shall offer it in the second month, on the 14th day of the month, at twilight. They shall eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs” (Numbers 9:10–11).
Pesach Sheni was not part of the original festival cycle. It was introduced by special request for Israelites who were unable to participate in the paschal sacrifice on the appointed day. It falls exactly one month after the original festival.
Today, we don’t offer paschal sacrifices, so Pesach Sheni has less relevance in our religious lives. But the day is sometimes marked as an optimistic celebration of second chances. For the Zohar however, this story is more complicated, as it runs up against the Zohar’s understanding of sacred time.
Regarding the mitzvah to make a Second Passover for those who were unable (to participate in the first) or who were impure at the time:
If the inner meaning of Passover, the intimacy of trust (raza d’mehemnuta) with which the people of Israel engage, is dominant in Nisan, making that the time for joy and celebration, how is it possible for those who were unable or impure to celebrate it in the second month? The time has already passed.
Zohar 3:152b
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The Zohar understands that cycles of sacred time reflect a shifting schedule of divine energies woven into the fabric of reality. At different times of the year, God makes different aspects of divinity available for us to engage with in trusting intimacy, what the Zohar calls raza d’mehemnuta. The timing of Passover, the Zohar contends, provides an opportunity to enter the presence of the divine queen, God’s indwelling presence on Earth, the sefira of Malkhut. That particular aspect of divinity is available for intimate encounters specifically on the full moon of Nisan. But as time flows, the divine energies change. The aspect of God that was ripe for connection (recall that the Hebrew word for sacrifice, korban, literally means “connector”) on the 14th of Nisan is not necessarily available a month later. So how can a paschal offering be made at that time? The Zohar offers the following explanation:
Once Knesset Yisrael is adorned with her crown in the month of Nisan, she is not deprived of her crown and her adornments for 30 days. For 30 days following the day the people of Israel ended Passover, the queen sits bedecked in royalty, and her forces all celebrate. Whoever wants to see the queen (during this time) may see the queen.
Zohar 3:152b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
Knesset Yisrael, literally the Community of Israel, is one of the symbols the Zohar uses to identify the tenth sefira, a cluster of symbols that also includes Earth, Moon, Night, the divine presence in the world, the divine feminine, the divine bride, the divine kingdom, Shekhinah, the queen and many more. It is this aspect of divinity that is accessible to us and which we celebrate on the 14th of Nisan. The Zohar imagines that during the week of Passover, the queen is adorned in her crown and invites her subjects into her presence, a notion that takes inspiration from Exodus 34:23, which employs regal reception imagery: “Three times a year all your males shall appear in the presence of the master, YHVH, the God of Israel.”
In his commentary Nitzotzei Zohar, Rabbi Reuben Margolies points out that the Zohar’s image of Passover as the crowning of a queen (and, as we’ll see in a moment, adorning of a bride) draws on earlier rabbinic sources. The Talmud states that a bride can continue wearing her wedding finery for a month following her wedding, even if a period of mourning occurs during that time. Her right to wear this finery for a full month overrides the usual mourning practices (Ketubot 4a). In a post-talmudic responsum attributed to Rav Hai Gaon (Sha’arei Teshuva, 336) this teaching is evoked to justify the practice of making a Second Passover. In other words, the Zohar is adapting both the image of Passover as a royal audience with God and the later image of Passover as a wedding day.
For our purposes, the important element the Zohar takes from Rav Hai’s responsum is that the bride’s celebration is not limited to the wedding itself. Passover may be akin to the week-long wedding festivities, but the talmudic source teaches us that the bride’s celebration continues for an entire month. This means that Pesach Sheni is the culmination of that special time, the last chance for the divine bride-queen to receive well-wishers.
A herald announces: “Anyone who was not able to see the queen should come and see her before the gates are locked!” When does the herald make this announcement? On the 14th day of the second month, when the gates are still open for seven days. After that, the gates will be locked. This is the meaning of the Second Passover.
Zohar 3:152b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
For the Zohar, holy time is not a sequence of specific days scattered throughout a non-holy year. It is rather an ebb and flow of different opportunities to connect to aspects of the divine, peaking in the times we identify as holidays, but present below the surface both as a buildup to the holiday (discussed elsewhere) and as an afterglow. The heavenly herald calling people to the Second Passover is not announcing a new holiday. She instead reminds us that even 30 days out, we are still within the flow of divine opportunity, even as it fades into something new.
Waking up to the Wonder of Hod
Part five of our Omer series: The Flour and the Wisdom RABBI VICTOR GROSS
Each sefirah has multiple meanings and end goals. Based on my understanding of Kabbalah, Hod is connected to the sensation of the sensate world. Hod is also connected to the awe, wonder and amazement of that sensation of the world. It is the very energy of perception of that world; much more than received external data.
Let me unpack this. My teacher, A.J. Heschel (with whom I had the great merit to study at the Jewish Theological Seminary) defined awe, wonder, and radical amazement as the foundational, non-rational spiritual experience of perceiving the divine in existence. He noted that as civilization advances, the essential sense of wonder declines, making intentional radical amazement—a state of being constantly surprised and delighted by reality—necessary to avoid the absence of a meaningful life.
While Heschel never wrote about the sefirot directly, his poetic, mystical language maps beautifully onto Hod. Using his language, I would say Hod is the “prerequisite of an awareness of that which is.” Hod allows for the sense of transcendence and an “intuition for the creaturely dignity of all things.” Hod is that way of perceiving “intimations of the divine.” That’s what I perceive when I look at the awesome Rocky Mountains out my back window or from the photos Reb Nadya takes of the fire of the rising sun on her early morning walks. It is what I sense with the reds and pinks of the sun setting behind the Rockies at the end of the day.
photo credit: Nadya Gross
Heschel argues that “wonder, rather than doubt, is the root of knowledge.” All these sensations and perceptions are the result of what I call Hod-ing.
Being in Hod is a state of being where one refuses to take anything for granted and recognizes the awesomeness of existence. Hod informs us that these experiences, perceptions and sensations are not just emotions but are foundational to a life of spirit.
A personal example: Prior to the birth of our four children, Nadya and I took birthing classes. We received a lot of knowledge about the process. But the birth of each child was truly the experience of awe and wonder beyond the world of knowledge.
To appreciate how central Hod is to a life of meaning, Heschel said “I did not ask for success; I asked for wonder.” He believed that while humankind might not perish from a lack of information, it could perish from a “want of appreciation” for the “grandeur of being.”
The world presents itself in two ways to us. The world is both a thing I am a part of, and a mystery I face. What I face is sublime. Hod reminds me not to miss what I face, what I sense and what I perceive. We need to take it in to expand our being.
There is an ethic flowing from Hod. It is a sense of the dignity of Creation. All of Creation is endowed with significance. Hod is there on the Tree of Life to remind us that what we cannot comprehend solely by analysis, we become aware of through awe. What we acquire by our senses and what holds us in awe and amazement is part and parcel of Creation. We are the beneficiaries of this gift. We have a responsibility, therefore, to preserve and protect that continued possibility and availability of the awesomeness of Creation. If it is true that God awaits humanity to show up, as Heschel asserts, then what other alternative do we have? To not acknowledge our responsibility would be a great offense to the Creator.
That is why we can say: Hodu l’Hod: Give thanks to Hod and through Hod.
Heschel quotes drawn from God in Search of Man and ‘Radical Amazement’ (available here).
Together Israeli and Palestinian,
we plant a new seedling.
Our tears of grief water
that young olive tree
that slowly grows
with fruit that takes generations to form.
Fragile,
it can be destroyed
by those who fail to observe the Torah commandment
to not destroy an olive tree
even during war.
Together Israeli and Palestinian,
we plant a new seedling of peace.
Embodying Shekhinah/Malkhut: Reflections on Divine Presence
Shekinah is She Who Dwells Within,
The force that binds and patterns creation.
…She is Mistress of the Seas, Tree of Life,
Silvery Moon, Fiery Sun.
All these are Her names.
She is gravity, magnetic field,
the paradox of waves and particles.
Shekinah is unseen dark, invisible web,
Creatrix of complex systems,
expanding, contracting, spiraling, meandering,
The beginning of Wisdom.
…We live here, in Her body.
She feeds multitudes from Her flesh…
Shekinah is the catalyst of our passion,
Our inner Spiritfire, our knowledge of self-worth,
Our call to authenticity…
Womb and Grave, End and Beginning.
All these are Her names.
—Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb, 1995
In Shekhinah/Malkhut, She Who Dwells Within, it all comes together. The counting of the Omer, the Jewish mystical practice many do between Passover and Shavuot, will conclude when we observe “Shekhinah/Malkhut sh’b’Shekhinah/Malkhut.” This year, my own work with the Tree of Life has become even more visceral, as I see the Divine/human attributes of each sefirah merge and dance, coming fully to life not just in spirit, mind and body but in my actions in the physical realm, Assiyah.
Shekhinah/Malkhut is in a sense the most alive of all the Divine energies for me in that it is She to whom I pray most of the time. Of course I work with the qualities embodied by all the sefirot in a variety of ways, in my daily life and my teaching on the Tree of Life, when practicing or teaching the counting of the Omer, the mystical practice many do between Passover and Shavuot. The sefirotic qualities, ranging from compassion and understanding to humility and discernment, are alive in my relationships with others and under a microscope when I am assessing whether my expression of the Tree’s attributes are in or out of alignment with my own values at any given moment.
As I began writing this piece my thoughts went to Shekhinah more than usual. And after one of my morning meditations, these words came through:
Her Presence is thus:
She is with us in every moment,
She is God as Mother, God as Protector, a major deity whom we cannot fully define but whose presence we feel.
If it is really She who was at the center of the burning bush, the cloud in the Mishkan, the energy essence we imagine in the Chariot, then She had and has more power and influence than most of us ever realized. She is not just an aspect of a male divinity, She is Source! I think some of the rabbis knew this; after all, it was they who first referred to Shekhinah as having female traits in the Talmud, a characterization developed further in the Zohar and other Jewish mystical literature. She was, unfortunately, a secret well-kept from me and most others of my generation.
As the Presence guiding Moses and the Israelites through the desert, She was always there. Yet we speak of Her as a spirit who went into and, many believe is still in, exile. If that is so, I don’t believe that She will return “when the Messiah comes” but when all genders are on equal footing, when there is justice and our world is not so dysregulated, but more in alignment with G’d’s intent.
But it is hard for me to think of Her in exile; most of the time I feel Her presence close. As a compassionate, wise and empathetic teacher, She is One who guides us, urges us on, gives us hints when we lose our way. If we’re oblivious to these messages because we are too overwhelmed or too self-centered to hear them, She lights a fire under us so that we’ll pay attention. She is the mafteyach ha-lev, the fire beneath our heart, the “pilot light” as Reb Nadya calls it that fuels our lifeforce and the sixth sense that tells us when something is right or wrong, that reminds us to be of service, to do our small but essential part in healing the world.
To flesh out our understanding of Shekhinah’s qualities further, She is in-dwelling Presence, our sense of sovereignty, manifestation, leadership, authority, majesty. In Counting the Omer Rabbi Min Kantrowitz writes, “The Zohar refers to the sephira of Malchut/Shechina as the “mouth of God”. This sephira…accepts everything, [is] a sacred container that holds all that has been received, nurtures it and passes it on.” She also writes, as I think my mother Rita Kolb Grenn believed, “The more we receive, the more we have available to give. The more we give, the more space we have available in our hearts to receive.” And She is “the sephira of God’s closeness, immanence, reminding us that divine energy permeates everything.”
If Shekhinah/Malkhut represents agency and self-authorization, what does that mean for each of us? What are we meant to manifest in this physical, material world?
How do our personalities, our own essences and in turn our actions affect others over the course of our lives? How does what we do make a difference in the world, and can we change our effect through being more self-aware and intentional?
Does it make a difference if we check in with Shekhinah/Malkhut daily? Weekly? I recently spoke to students about a Mincha practice I once created of simply stopping in the late afternoon to light a candle, to breathe, to mark the time and think about the day’s accomplishments and challenges. It was a time to acknowledge the Source of Life. And sometimes it was enough to simply stop what I was doing and to suspend linear thinking for a moment, to feel my body, to acknowledge my place in the world. Out of these moments a prayer or blessing that needed saying was frequently breathed.
If I only stood at my altar for one or two minutes, it often was enough to center me, to ground me – and if I could feel that happen, I would tend to stay longer before going on with my work, my play, my life. And I came to realize that whether I then went on to take care of my household, to finish a project, to spend time with my partner or oommune with my beloved feline beings, I did it better, with more presence, calm and appreciation. What more valuable contribution can we make to our own lives, to our relationships, to the collective energy field? Is this not embodying Shekhinah/Malkhut?
Such moments can help us to know ourselves better and so offer more to others. The energy we radiate when we pay closer attention to our relationships, especially honoring our ancestral connections can open a channel through which the presence of Shekhinah/Malkhut can manifest more strongly in this realm as a positive force felt by all. This may be one way to address the question posed by Rabbi Yael Levy in Journey Through the Wilderness. Seeing this final week of Omer counting as a time of integration, she writes: “We ask ourselves: How can I best be of service?”…
…We wove a cocoon of hope, of joy in our own presence as many lights were shone on women’s unacknowledged accomplishments, women’s theo/thealogies, revealing so much of our story through 5,000+ years that many in the audience did not know about. Seeing a visible change in women’s spirits, the light in their faces from learning about their own history, and other activities which lead to transformation are part of my raison d’etre, an organizing principle that dictates the ways I choose to serve.
She who dwells within acts at times as our moral-spiritual-emotional compass, a North Star reminding us to be of service, and often providing direction as to the best ways to do that. How do we each define service? For me, it means helping someone who is sick or in need of something material, of course, but it also means being there when someone needs us, even if it’s inconvenient or we don’t think we’re the right person to help or advise them. It means bearing witness, even if that feels difficult because it means being silent and fully present when someone shares a problem we don’t have an answer for. No doubt we each have our own conception of what we call “service” but in every case I think it means to do something selfless for another person or an entire community because it will benefit them.
As a portal bringing spiritual lessons into the earthly realm, Shekhinah/Malkhut can teach us how to embody all the emanations of holiness found on the Tree. This Ruach Ha-Kodesh can help us balance all the Divine/human qualities we embody, helping us to lead the richest lives possible, fulfilling our potential and in turn being able to be of greater service to self and others. We need to remember that our presence adds value to the world, even when we think we’re too small for our efforts to matter, when we bring our best selves to everything we do, every relationship and every interaction we have.
In closing but not conclusion since Spirit is immeasurable and never ending, I will say that Shekhinah/Malkhut for me is alive in every leaf on every tree I walk by, pray to, talk to or bless; in the honeybees extracting food from our rosemary berms while there are still flowers to feed them. She is the energy emanating from our feathered and four-legged friends, from oceans and rivers, vibrating throughout all of Nature.
She is alive in the air I breathe as I walk after my morning espresso (where She is certainly also most alive!). And of course, She is that spark of Divinity that is alive when we are in conversation with another.
She is the hope that gets me up in the morning, the spirit of Modah Ani with which I start my day, the rush of adrenaline, excitement, passion when I’m writing, dancing, singing or holding a beloved.
She is the spirit-ruach-lifeforce underlying everything I do, even when I forget to thank Her for being there or can’t feel anything but darkness.
And She is our reminder to use our gifts in service to those who need them, quietly and without asking for thanks or credit. For without those expressions of lovingkindness, compassion and empathy that push us to want others’ lives as well as our own to be better, what is our purpose?
Shekhinah/Malkhut is a reflection of us as we are of Her. She is a prime example of how we can hold opposites, embodying both compassion and anger, joy and pain, empathy and forgiveness, generosity and restraint. I pray that I may do these things well.
May Shekhinah’s qualities always inspire us, as we seek to speak and act in ways that the Divine must have hoped for when S/he created us.
Building Foundations: Reflections on Yesod in the Omer Journey
This is the sixth of seven posts, inviting us to journey through the attributes on the Tree of Life as we count the Omer—Seven full weeks, 49 days JOAN G. KAUFMAN
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We are preparing to begin the sixth week of counting the Omer—the week of Yesod. Yesod is considered the foundation upon which the world is built, both physically and spiritually. It invites us to reflect on our commitments and our ability to integrate previously learned qualities—lovingkindness, discipline, compassion, endurance and humility—into tangible actions and behaviors.
Yesod is also defined as truth or integrity. In this context it challenges us to take a long hard look at what we are committing to—and whether we are prepared to act with full integrity. This is when we try to focus on our commitment to see resolutions through, even in the face of our real and imagined doubts or challenges.
Yesod is associated with creativity, generativity, and the ability to bring ideas and visions into reality. It emphasizes the importance of self-definition and prompts us to reflect on acting with integrity. Another important aspect of Yesod is bonding—the power to connect, with oneself, with others, and with one’s spiritual beliefs.
From the teachings of Aish:
“Bonding is the foundation of life, the emotional spine of the human psyche. Every person needs bonding to flourish and grow…. It establishes trust ― trust in yourself and trust in others. It instills confidence. Without bonding and nurturing we cannot realize and be ourselves.”
We bond with our partners, siblings and other relatives, our friends, our pets—and even imaginary friends. Hopefully we also form a loving, trusting bond with ourselves.
It is not unusual for those we bond with to challenge us. They test our patience. Sometimes they do things that we feel aren’t in their own best interests. Most often it is wisest if we can let them proceed as they wish. Perhaps that means they will make mistakes, but they are making their own mistakes, and they will learn from them. It is difficult for us to sit by and watch, anticipating negative consequences. When we bond with other people — especially our children or friends — we often see them as an extension of ourselves. We have to remember that they are their own people and that despite the bonding, we have to give them space and keep a respectful distance so that they may experience life on their own terms—mistakes and all.
This is also a reminder of how important it is for us to go easy on ourselves when we make mistakes, whether silly or consequential. We should be mindful of how we react to our mistakes. We can make amends if needed and we can correct our behavior for the next time.
Whenever I want to know something more about Jewish teachings and practices, I consult the teachings of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks and Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, both of blessed memory. Here’s what they had to say about Yesod.
Rabbi Sacks viewed the week of Yesod as a time for building a strong base for growth and stability. He emphasized the importance of bonding and nurturing in relationships, as essential for personal and communal development. He saw this week as a time to reflect on the foundations of life, both individual and societal. He linked this to the concept of building a strong emotional and relational foundation. Rabbi Sacks often discussed the interconnectedness of Chesed (lovingkindness) and Yesod (foundation). He suggested that lovingkindness builds strong foundations and that a strong foundation allows for greater compassion and lovingkindness to flourish.
Rabbi Sacks encouraged individuals to examine their character and refine their attributes during the Omer period. He believed that by emulating Divine attributes, like Yesod, we can enhance our own spiritual nature.
Rebbe Nachman of Breslov taught that the Omer is a journey of spiritual transformation and self-improvement, emphasizing the importance of using this period to prepare for receiving Torah on Shavuot. He emphasized that Yesod is the foundation upon which all of our spiritual and material endeavors are built, and that it represents our moral foundation. If our morals are upright, we can build a strong and lasting life. He connected Yesod with the Tzaddik, the righteous one, who embodies the highest levels of moral purity. The Tzaddik uses the energy of Yesod to elevate himself beyond material desires and bring joy to God. Reb Nachman encouraged us to embrace the challenges and difficulties of life, seeing them as opportunities for growth and self-improvement.
The Omer count serves as a period of introspection and spiritual preparation, allowing individuals to connect with their inner selves and prepare for Shavuot. The journey from slavery to freedom, symbolized by the 49-day Omer journey, underscores the need to prepare for the gift of Torah received on Shavuot.
During this week of Yesod, let’s all think about what foundations and connections hold us, and who we can turn to for whatever needs we may have. Then turn that around and consider who relies upon you. Take this opportunity to really look at our foundations, our bonds with one another, our community. Have we neglected any important relationships? Has anything come up in a relationship that needs attention or repair? Are you feeling strength and comfort in your bonds or is anything missing? Are you nurturing yourself sufficiently? Let’s put this week of Yesod to good use as we focus on these questions and plan any actions we may need to take to create the proper balance each of us needs.
A Way In Jewish Mindfulness: Hod – Presence, Glory, Gratitude
Hod calls,
Be present,
Be patient,
Be still.
Sit and be with what is.
Even as the mind races,
Even as thoughts arise
Demanding that things be different.
Be with what is.
Take a receptive posture,
Wait. See. Notice.
Awareness brings its own transformation.
And when the present moment
Is filled with anguish,
When the heart weeps,
And the soul quakes,
Hod offers refuge
And the solace of sacred companionship.
Hiney makom iti, the Infinite Presence calls. Shemot 33:21
I am here with you in this place.
I am here with you in this moment.
I am right by your side.
Wherever you are there I am.
There is always a place for you with me.
Blessed are those who know that in each moment
They dwell at home in the Divine
Their very being offers praise, Selah
Psalm 84:5
What do we mean when we talk about a “second chance?” Is it the ability to step into a capsule, be transported to a previous point in time, jostle aside our previous, misguided self, and do it the right way this time? But if that’s all there’s to it, what has been gained? We could just as well have done it right the first time!
The Torah’s idea of teshuvah (“return”) is not just the undoing or correcting of a past error. Rather, teshuvah is about transforming the past. It means reaching back to change the significance and the consequences of what happened, so that the end result is better than what would have been had it not occurred.
Netzach: Endurance, Eternity and the Power of Presence
The journey through the Omer, thus far, has mirrored a glorious dance performance. We began in the forward-facing flow of Chesed, unstructured and uninhibited; the first dancer jumping and twirling with abandon. That one was caught in the arms of Gevurah as the second week unfolded, contained and given form, held to the limits of the stage. And this past week we experienced the harmony of the two dancers as they found their balance and moved together gracefully in Tiferet.
As we enter the fourth week of the Omer, the two dancers separate again, and we find ourselves in the flow of Netzach.
The Power of Netzach
Netzach literally means perpetuity, everlastingness. When encountering Netzach, I often recall a conversation with Reb Zalman where I was expressing judgment about the practice of naming spaces and whole buildings after the donor— wondering aloud if they would give as much if they weren’t rewarded in that way. Reb Zalman looked at me with such loving concern and asked: “Why would you want to inhibit their Netzach energy?” I was chastened by that. Don’t we all, at one time or another, imagine living on in perpetuity? Authors, artists, civic and spiritual leaders—and you can add so many other roles to this list—all are motivated by Netzach.
This week we test the limits of our endurance as our passions call us forward. Do we have the strength to follow through? Can we overcome the obstacles in our way and accomplish what we set out to do? This is Netzach at its best, leading the way and leaving an imprint on the world.
When I am in my leadership role, I am calling on all the Netzach I can muster. The best expression of this sefirah will be able to inspire and motivate others to accomplish the tasks at hand. This is a relational energy, though it is also that which awakens the life-force within and fuels the constant doing, striving, accomplishing on my journey through life.
Netzach’s Shadow
Like Chesed, its parent, sitting above it on the Tree of Life, Netzach can run amok. It, too, is uninhibited flow and can become a brutal force. Think of those all-nighters we’ve pulled to complete a task; how often did we acknowledge the risks to our health or even to the quality of the work we would produce? Likewise, when our goal is to win – another quality of Netzach – are we considering all the costs?
I simply cannot make this statement, and not reflect on what we see happening in this country and other parts of the world right now. We are witnessing Netzach out of control. The ego-driven brutality is beyond belief, and yet true. Every day I long for the mitigating energy of Hod, which we’ll hear about next week, and the balancing energy of Yesod, completing the lower triangle on the Tree. Just as Gevurah and Tiferet are in relationship with Chesed, keeping it balanced and healthy, so too, Netzach requires its relational attributes for the sake of the future of this world.
The Nature of Eternity
As we arrive at this sefirah, I find myself wondering about the nature of eternity. The forever-ness of Netzach points us to eternity. What is that? Is it a quality we can apprehend? In our lives, limited by time, what does eternity suggest? (Would that our leaders would have an interest in eternity and not just their present hunger for power and control!)
My Savta (grandmother) taught me that the present moment is an eternity. Each moment contains all that came before and all the potential of what is yet to be. Be Here Now, a popular book by Ram Dass in my generation, launched the mindfulness revolution. We were taught to peel away at the layers of the material world, to discover our true essence or soul; and that part of us, we were told, lives on in perpetuity, it is everlasting.
Anyone who calls my phone when I’m not available, hears me invite them to “have a beautiful now”. So many have left a message wondering if their now already passed them by, as they listened to my voice. I have heard many variations on ‘now’ and ‘then’, and each time I’m amused. Because the whole point of eternity is that it’s not a game of semantics, it’s an invitation to simple Presence.
Netzach in Practice
In this week of Netzach I invite us all to practice being fully present to a moment. While on the road to accomplishing a task, completing a project, winning the game, let’s stop to smell the roses. Let’s bring all of our attention and focus—all our senses—to the beauty of the natural world. Make a commitment to notice something beautiful or surprising in your world, at least once a day, and stop … be fully present to the experience. Then remember that moment and find the quality of eternity that was present as you entered into the fullness of it.
Then apply that same practice to your encounters with other humans. Let yourself witness the future unfolding with the imprint of your words, thoughts and actions. Then go and demand that of the powerful people in our world.
Our third week of counting brings us into the realm of Tiferet. Often translated as Splendor, Tiferet sits at the center of the Tree of Life, roughly mapping to the heart chakra. The secret of understanding Tiferet and all the sephirot, I’ve found, is to soften the gaze, release the “knowing” mind and allow the multiplicity of layers and paradox to ease their way into your being. Tiferet wants to be known inside, like that beauty that happens with your eyes closed. Give it a try.
Tiferet is balance like a cycle of tides—not static, but allowing flow to flow, holding the possibility of storm surge as easily as it does dead calm. It’s the place where our all-too-human clay feet meet—and are inspired by—the indelible spark of divinity with which we are endowed at birth. If it can be said that that spark has a seat in our bodies, Tiferet, the heart center, would be it. Somatically, it’s where I most easily feel divine qualities, such as love, compassion, inspiration and creativity. Archetypally, architecturally—in the Tree of Life’s scheme—it balances Chesed and Gevurah, but it would be a mistake to relegate it to the status of scale or arbiter between the two. It is, rather, a state of consciousness that transcends and includes those two seeming opposites, as in Rumi’s field.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
-Rumi
The Lower Unity
Beyond that, even, Tiferet is the drawing together of all the lower sephirotic energies that we’re counting. It is the point that lengthens to a line when, having grasped all the four surrounding sephirot, connects them to Yesod below, in the central column. This combined energy elongates into manifestation; the gathering of potential as it trips into the kinetic. I picture Tiferet as the magnificently grand train hall of all the Tree’s energies: containing the flow of multitudes in its shining ever-present essence. Glory in and of itself, Tiferet is at once way-station and destination. Destiny.
Tiferet is the apex of internality as it prepares to manifest into to the external world. And also the moment to pause in the deliciousness of it all, the beauty of it all, in a refraction of its conduit from Chesed’s effulgence to Hod’s serene surrender.
Tiferet also transmutes Gevurah’s containment strength into the strong driving action of Netzach. And also opens a direct line into the upper triad of Keter, Chochmah and Binah—whispered at, here in our counting—drawing down their rarified light into enough substance to grasp them in a more corporeal heart-knowing.
I’m integrating a powerful ceremony, reflecting on the pain in my heart as I experience the love I have for my daughter—a tightness that doesn’t fully fit in the cavity of my chest. As I re-experience that sensation, I let the lobes of my heart unfold, taking up more space in my body and my immediate surroundings. In doing so, the pain and constriction release into a fuller expression and sensation of love.
In Lurianic creation mythos, the sephirot shattered because they couldn’t contain Divine Light as it made its way into the denser realities of our dual, I-It world. We learn from that story that the tikkun/correction for this paradigm of individualism is the connection of each with each and all with all. I-Thou. Tiferet represents that possibility for correction and connection. In a somatic retelling of that mythopoetry, our heartspace is a necessary but not sufficient condition for healing and wholeness. The heart can’t do it alone, it needs to be in touch with the other five directions (Chesed, Gevurah, Netzach, Hod and Yesod) to be whole enough to reunite with Malchut/Shechina.
Just like the anatomical heart is connected to every little blood vessel in our bodies, so is Tiferet the pulse generator that connects and purifies our energy. And, just as the continuous beating of the anatomical heart is a bit mysterious in its perpetuity, so is Tiferet that spark of mystery inside us, with us as long as the heart beats in our chests.
The Universal Heart
Once again in sacred medicine space, I start to pick a the brittle dried vines encircling my lower spine and realize, “that will never do.” So I bring them into my heart, which in turn becomes a mikveh/ritual purification bath. I find I can bring anything—old family dynamics, personal grievances—into it, and they are cleansed of their poison. Getting curious, I try bringing the Orange One into my heart. I find he is too big for my pool, but at that moment, my heart connects with the Universal Heart, all one, and there is space for even him there, too. Mikveh Yisroel Hashem!
The name of G-d most often associated with Tiferet is Y-H-V-H. By the transitive property of Torah P’nimi/Inner Teachings, therefore, Tiferet is the mikveh/purifying pool of Yisrael/the G-dwrestler, as our prophet Jeremiah says.¹ It holds space for the suffering of all beings, human and more than human, transcending sect by intersecting with the Heart of the Buddha, the Christ and Krishna. It is known, simply, as Compassion.
Tiferet’s Blessing
As all of these images and ideas swirl in your mind, I invite you to breathe deeply and let go of any “trying” to make sense. Feel your breath as it passes through your chest into your belly. Feel—or imagine you can feel—your heartspace softening and opening. Feel—or imagine you can feel—your heart unfolding and connecting with all of your body. This tender impermanent vessel, short enough on this earth, houses your unique expression of Tiferet in it. While it’s there, may you be blessed to live in and through its multifaceted light and may that light shine through you. In doing so, may you find the heart to connect and be compassionate as a radical tikkun/restorative response to the shattering that surrounds us.
I woke to a room lit by a small white candle
whose flame seeks to honor the memories of too many to count.
The woman who lit the candle
is the daughter of two who survived
what millions did not;
two who lost their first families
and survived laboring in Siberia;
two, who scarred beyond any understanding
with hurts I can’t begin to name
built a new family
and passed along
the Iron Will to Thrive;
no matter what the challenge,
no matter what resource is available,
no matter what.
From the expanse of Chesed
We enter the week of Gevurah
Which illuminates boundaries, limitations,
Distinction.
Gevurah turns us toward mystery
And reminds us there is so much we will never know.
Bow in humility, Gevurah calls,
And remember that humans
Are not the center of this mysterious universe.
And although our actions have impact
We are not ultimately in control.
Gevurah teaches that with humility comes strength.
The strength to listen
And wait for discernment to rise.
The strength to make distinctions and create boundaries
So the sacred will flourish and grow.
The strength to be faithful to spiritual practice.
Gevurah urges us to take the stance of a spiritual warrior:
To call on the Infinite Mystery,
And open to its presence and power.
A prayer as we enter the week of Gevurah:
Please, help us abide in the face of uncertainty.
Infuse us with devotion, discipline and courage.
Lift us up again and again.
Let us join with the Infinite Mystery
And be forces for healing, justice, compassion and peace.
Meditation for Week of Gevurah
Receiving Strength from the Infinite Mystery
shiviti havayah l’negdi tamid
I place the Infinite Presence before me always.
Psalm 16:8
Taking our seats, we rest the attention on the breath and after a few minutes begin to recite the verse:
shiviti havayah l’negdi tamid
I place the Infinite Presence before me always
Gently, we repeat the verse over and over, letting it travel with the breath.
Engaging the imagination, we place the verse before our eyes and upon our hearts and notice the sensations in the body as we repeat the verse over and over again.
When we notice the attention has wandered, we return to the breath and the movement and vibration of the verse moving through the body.
We close the sit by giving thanks for the mysteries of life.
Questions for Reflection
What happens in my mind and body when I face uncertainty?
What boundaries/limits can I set that will support spiritual practice, discernment, stability?
What gives me strength?
What inspires the experience of awe?
We begin counting the Omer, a period of seven weeks, on the second night of Passover. This year, that will be Sunday, April 13. In Kabbalistic counting, we do not simply count the days—we also move our awareness through The Kabbalistic Tree of Life. As you will see, the Tree of Life is not just a diagram; it represents our inner world and serves as a map of the divine image in which we are created.
The Tree of Life
The Tree of Life consists of three triangles, each with three sefirot (plural)—one at each corner—and a tenth sefira(singular) at the bottom. These are connected by 22 pathways. Sefirot are spheres that denote essential attributes of our whole being. During the Omer, we progress through seven of the ten sefirot—those that relate to our physical and emotional realms—while the top three remain beyond our reach.
What is Chesed, and Why Do We Begin Here?
We begin with the sefira of Chesed. But why here—not at the top or the bottom? Each week, on Sunday night, we progress to a new sefira, working through the middle and lower triangles for 49 days until we reach Shavu’ot. This connects Pesach (Passover and the Exodus from Egypt) with Shavu’ot (the ancient pilgrimage festival of the wheat harvest and the date marking the revelation of the Ten Commandments on Mt. Sinai).
Chesed is more than just an attribute—it is an energy center of our bodies and a grand portal between ourselves and the divine. Chesed means loving-kindness. We begin here because Chesed infuses us with life and the rebirth of spring. It is one of the places where divine flow enters our physical bodies. Love is the entry point.
The Relationships of Chesed
Chesed is located in the middle triangle of the Tree of Life. To fully understand Chesed, we must see it in relation to other sefirot. In our bodies, it is found in the upper right corner of our torsos. Chesed functions best when balanced with Gevurah, which is located in the upper left. Gevurah represents inner strength and discernment. When these two are in harmony, Tiferet—the lower point of the middle triangle—becomes fully activated. Tiferet is balance, harmony, compassion, and beauty. As the center of the Tree, it also aligns with the heart, the source of our energy, love, and healing.
The Flow of Chesed’s Energy
Chesed, as loving-kindness, is an energetic flow—invigorating and enlivening. This sefira serves as a portal through which divine energy enters our physical bodies, moving into Assiyah and Yetzirah, the two lower worlds in Kabbalah, the physical and emotional realms, represented by the middle and lower triangles of the Tree of Life. Chesed is one of the primary channels through which we receive the energy of the Holy One. This is why we begin with Chesed when we count the Omer.
Physically, Chesed is associated with the right shoulder, arm, and upper right quadrant of the chest and back. We must locate this energy center within ourselves and observe its movement. Is the energy flowing smoothly? Is it broad and strong, or sluggish and thin? When we sense how it flows, we can explore its connection with Da’at—the profound knowing that unites the sefirot and connects us to the Holy One. How does Chesed speak to Da’at within you?
Reflecting on these energies within yourself can lead to a clearer understanding of your function, emotions, and how best to serve.
Chesed as a Reflection of the Whole
Chesed exists in you as a divine attribute, an energy center, and a portal. It is also a manifestation of the Tree of Life, which exists in the heavenly realms and is mirrored throughout all creation. We are reflections of this grand design—made in the image of the Tree—and each of us is a part of the great whole, the Oneness of all Being. Your Chesedconnects to the Chesed everywhere. You are part of the whole, intertwined with it. Your life feeds into the whole, and the whole feeds into you.
The Balance of Chesed
Chesed is a portal for receiving, but it is also what we give and bestow. It flows through us, gifting love and grace, which we can offer to ourselves and others. To do this without harm—to others or to ourselves—Chesed must flow clearly, unobstructed, and in balance with Gevurah and Tiferet. A triangle is a stable structure; in its balance, we find strength.
Opening to Chesed as We Begin the Omer
As we begin counting the Omer, we always start with Chesed—the place where love enters. Let us allow Chesed to flow into us, moving freely in all directions, so that we may become bright lights in this world.
We think of Netzach as victory, legacy, and persistence. It connotes leaving an impact, creating a change, or prevailing over a situation. Netzach contains the sense of working for something with determination. The function for many of us includes fighting, struggling, and striving. Is that what we want it to be? Being at the right hip it invites us to put the strong leg forward and march into service.
When we are facing obstacles and battles in our lives we call on Netzach. When those of us who have career and business challenges, serious or chronic health issues, family and relationship dilemmas, battles for justice and safety or any situation which requires effort to overcome, we call on Netzach energy, and we do battle. And who does not have some of these things? They are ever present in real life in this physical realm, in the 3D reality.
In this kind of Netzach work, we engage our nervous system in the sympathetic response of fight, flight, or freeze. We often find ourselves in long-term high alert mode. This chronic response can be damaging to our mental and physical health. Moreover, it may not be the optimal course of action for the situation because it is based on our knowledge at the time, which may well be limited.
Netzach As Part of a Pair
One of the magical aspects of the Tree of Life that Kabbalah has given us is the paired sefirot. The pairs of Netzach and Hod, Chesed and Gevurah, and Hochmah and Binah are couples, partners in a relationship. They invite us to create balance and to constantly check the seesaw to see if there is equal expression of both energies. These energies are reciprocal. Some flow and some contain. Sometimes they are expansive and other times they contract. Like healthy partners, like our eyes and ears, they must coordinate and work together.
Netzach’s partner is Hod, which means both splendor and humility. While Netzach moves with force and power, Hod holds in an ever-expanding container and ensures that Netzach energy does not overflow. If Netzach is marching, then Hod is skipping, lifting us with lightness and joy in physical pursuits.
If we have been relying on Netzach too much, for too long, Hod becomes diminished. We lose out on the creation of physical beauty and gloriousness. We lose a sense of gratitude for the practical world. We are out of harmony and out of balance in doing, in the world of action. We forget what our nature is and do not recognize if our self is too small or too large. We become lost in our focus on the battle. The sense of being a single wildflower in a massive community of a riotously colorful field vanishes and what we experience is struggle. We are left with only our personal will and our willfulness to create what we wish for.
The Alchemy in Action
I suggest that we call upon Hod to reframe how we perceive Netzach and how we manifest Netzach energies. I suggest that there is another way to overcome problems, win fights, create a change, or leave a legacy. There is another way to make a difference.
Let’s engage in the alchemy of mixing Hod and Netzach. By bringing in gratitude, rather than fighting, we engage with life cooperatively. By bringing in humility, rather than forcing our will, we call upon the will of the Divine. By bringing in beauty and ease, rather than focusing on trouble, battle, and strife, we see the greater possibilities for bettering our lives.
This brings us to the new way to look at Netzach. Let’s approach Netzach from ease and effortlessness. Let’s move away from our will, our physical effort, and our mental forcefulness. How is it possible to have Netzachwithout these things? We must turn the wheel slightly to redirect our gaze and see this energy center from another angle. What if the power to overcome is not our power? What if the will to succeed is not our will? What if the strength to deal with difficulties is not our strength?
If we open ourselves to divine power then G!d does the work, and we achieve effortlessness. To grasp this possibility, we must be willing. We receive grace, and we let go of striving. We activate our parasympathetic response; we rest and relax in the embrace of Shekhina. When we trust, we move into 5D reality, into cosmic consciousness.
This is the process: we find harmony and gratitude in this moment, and then we offer up our problem and let go of our will. Then we are able to open ourselves to the grace that comes to us and flows through us. This divine energy flows through us in Chesed as loving kindness. This divine energy also flows through us in Netzach as the power to create good. The course correction prevails with ease and without our striving. The path is made for us. The target is redefined for us. We collaborate in the work. Our task becomes focused and cooperative. We are co-creators. We do not do it alone. We do not struggle. We move forward deliberately with ease and grace. The divine force of Netzach and the sacred harmony of Hod weave together in us and direct our action.
And How We Work It
For example, let’s say we have a recurring and increasing problem such as a pain in our belly we do not know the cause of. We worry. We imagine. We dive into Dr. Google. We wonder if we can find help. We try to worry our way to healing. Our attention gets pulled towards this problem. Our stress level rises. We are struggling.
Alternatively, we might move into gratitude and harmony. We are grateful for the information that something is amiss. When we sit in prayer, in meditation, in the company of friends, or when we create in our kitchens, our art forms, our relationships we feel the joy and harmony present in our lives. We shift our focus to the positive, the good. We then call upon the divine in the way of our choice such as music, liturgy, personal prayer, or by directly calling on Shekhina, ancestors, angels, or guides. We open to the love and support that is available to us. In time, something calls our attention, some sign or word arises. We are guided and without struggle we know the course of action to take.
Our work is to create the conditions for receiving, to be aware of what we receive and to act on what we receive. This is the co-creation that eliminates struggle and leads to a new Netzach, overcoming without fighting.
The world of doing becomes rebalanced; creating change is done in beauty and harmony with the greater reality; and we can rest in the embrace of Shekhina.
We welcome the month of Iyar, which arrives during this week of Tiferet.
Tiferet calls forth
The courage and vulnerability of an open heart.
Beauty that astonishes,
Patterns of harmony,
The magnificent interconnection of all life.
Tiferet also reveals the cracks and brokenness
The pain we experience and cause.
In this wide-open field of Tiferet
Is a well-spring of Rachamim,
Infinite compassion, a flow of fierce, determined love
That holds and guides us,
Helping us be with the truth of all that is
With empathy and care.
During Tiferet
The month of Iyar arrives offering healing
And the great gift of second chances.
When the Israelites crossed the sea
And faced the expanse of the unknown
They grew afraid and despondent.
The Infinite Mystery called,
I am the Life Force, your healer. Ex. 15:26
Iyar is an acronym for this statement and reminds us
That in this life of expanse and uncertainty
We are not alone.
The Infinite Presence is with us,
A force for healing and possibility.
The light of second chances shines through Iyar
Because the full moon of Iyar
Provides the opportunity for something that has been missed.
During Temple times, it was considered essential for a person’s spiritual and material well being that they make a special sacrificial offering for Passover.
If circumstances kept someone from doing this, they were given another opportunity on the fifteenth of Iyar.
Iyar says: Give yourself and others generous second chances.
In this next week of the Omer, beginning Tuesday evening, the flow of Chesed is caught and contained in G’vurah. This attribute on the Tree of Life brings the qualities of strength, judgment, discernment, justice, discipline, boundaries, heroism. G’vurah is heroic in its ability to stand in the face of the resistance that so many of us felt when we first were introduced to the Sefirot.
Who wants to be stopped and held back when blissfully being carried on an ever-flowing stream of love? And yet, life teaches us that an overabundance of anything can become overwhelming and destructive. We need good boundaries. “Good fences make good neighbors” goes the saying. I wouldn’t want to build a fence that hides the beauty on the other side. Just enough to keep my dog from ruining the neighbor’s garden. So, too, the boundaries of G’vurah are flexible and permeable. Just enough to keep Chesed from drowning the object of my loving.
The Dance of Mirroring Opposites
Chesed and G’vurah are mirroring opposites on the Tree. They are engaged in a dance … one giving, the other receiving. Chesed provides the content, while G’vurah defines, clarifies and supports.
In its role as the balancing agent, G’vurah provides the strength to stand in one’s own light and truth. We can know our goodness and not need to seek validation from others. We can accept our shadow elements and love ourselves wholeheartedly, because that is the hero’s nature. Heroes are people who are selfless, generous, giving, and are committed to making others’ lives better and safer. This is how G’vurah makes our Chesed nature visible.
The self-actualized person who has done their own work knows that to be selfless, generous and giving towards others these qualities must first be directed inward, at the Self. The greatest principle in Torah is, “v’ahavta l’re’acha kamocha”, you must love your fellow being as YOURSELF. This teaches us that our love for the other is only as good or true as our love for ourselves. G’vurah says: hold onto that love flowing through you, give yourself the gift of love and kindness, then the love you share will be pure, not needy.
Discernment vs Judgment
This week’s attribute will also bring the power of discernment to us. Not everyone or everything is worthy of our loving attention; not all relationships deserve our greatest efforts. When neediness takes over, when we give without end, we fail to notice how we’ve attracted ‘takers’; we aren’t discerning which relationships are reciprocated and which simply drain us of all our resources. G’vurah helps us notice, and gives us the strength to let go of the unhealthy relationships or find a course correction.
Another name for G’vurah is Din/Judgment. This is precisely where this attribute has gotten its ‘bad rap’. Judgment can be harsh and inflexible. It can also protect us from wrongdoing. Every sefirah exists on a spectrum, from its healed aspect to its unhealed aspect. When judgment becomes brittle and uncompromising, it can break us and our relationships irrevocably. When judgment is tempered with kindness, it gives us the capacity to create healthy boundaries between what is good and what is not good, whether for the moment or for all time. G’vurah is the element that makes one a ‘good judge of character’ – both our own and others’.
The Gift of Discipline
Finally, this is the week that brings discipline to our lives and our spiritual practice. We need this quality to continue the journey through the 49 gates. We often hear how people begin counting the Omer with great enthusiasm and then they fall away. This work of re-creating and refining ourselves requires constant tending. Our nature and patterns of behavior and thought are like a garden that, with disciplined care, will blossom and bear fruit; when we fail to cultivate it, the weeds will simply take over.
We bless you to embrace the discipline of this practice, and bring your full, flowering self to receive your own torah, your own divinely inspired wisdom this year, as we reach the 50th gate.
This year I am watching the dance of the sefirot through the Omer counting. As we arrive at the week of Yesod [foundation], the attributes we’ve encountered all come together once again. They are like circle dancers drawing together toward the center of the circle. They form the foundation on which the world, as we know it, is built. Every characteristic of the previous sefirot is now fully engaged in the dance. It becomes a single flowing movement toward manifestation… but that is next week.
First we live in the promise. We experience the process of integration as the architect’s final blueprint comes together. A blueprint is the perfect intention of the one who has imagined and designed the final product. It has not yet gone through the tweaking and sometimes unintended error that happens when it is placed in the hands of the builder.
Yesod as Generativity
In our bodies, Yesod is at the genitals and womb. It is the place of generativity. The Cambridge dictionary defines that word as: “the quality of being able to produce or create something new.” Further, the dictionary suggests this sentence to illustrate the meaning of the word: “The device has no ‘generativity’ – it does not invite or enable users to tinker with it, to improve upon it, to adapt it to their particular needs.”
We might then understand that the perfect blueprint in Yesod is still available for further tinkering. From the perspective of the Creator/God as architect, we see the trust placed in Creation and all of us, to perfect the plan; we are the tinkerers, the ones who will adapt the original idea to our particular needs.
Yesod as Trust
I have always taught that trust is one of the most important qualities in Yesod. Faith, faithfulness, and trust are essential to the healthy expression of Yesod, in physical intimacy as well as in our relationship with all of Creation. We either recognize our interdependence with every aspect of this created world, and hold it sacred, or we use its precious resources for our own needs, heedless of the harm we might be causing.
Yesod is the channel to the real, the last chance for perfection. I want to be present to that possibility this week, even as I know that perfection is simply not real. This week comes with the gift of imagining what might be, or what I wish things could be.
May we take this one week to bear witness to the perfection of our world, to weave in and out with the dancing attributes and feel that we are an essential part of the whole, so that we might be inspired to live more harmoniously with and within this blessed creation.
Yesod Practices
Two practices to try throughout the week:
Take a walk in nature and bless each tree, plant, critter with: “How perfect you are!”
Soften your gaze when sitting in conversation with a friend or loved one; see the light that shines through their eyes and know they are perfect in that moment
Rabbi Nadya Gross, MA
Netzach is Eternal
First Fruits: Counting The Omer – Netzach
The process of the Omer counting thus far feels like a dance performance. We began in the forward facing flow of Chesed, unstructured and uninhibited; the first dancer jumping and twirling with abandon. That one was caught in the arms of Gevurah as the second week unfolded, contained and given form, held to the limits of the stage. And this past week we experienced the harmony of the two dancers as they found their balance and moved together gracefully in Tiferet.
As we enter the fourth week of the Omer, the two dancers separate again, and we find ourselves in the flow of Netzach.
Netzach as Perpetuity
Netzach literally means perpetuity or everlastingness. I remember a conversation with Reb Zalman, where I expressed my judgment about the practice of naming spaces and whole buildings after donors, wondering aloud if they would give as much if they weren’t rewarded in that way. Reb Zalman looked at me with such loving concern and asked: “why would you want to inhibit their Netzach energy?”
That chastened me. At one time or another, don’t we all imagine living on in perpetuity? Netzach motivates authors, artists, civic and spiritual leaders, and so many other roles.
This week we test the limits of our endurance as our passions call us forward. Do we have the strength to follow through? Can we overcome the obstacles in our way and accomplish what we set out to do? This is Netzach at its best, leading the way and leaving an imprint on the world.
When I am in my leadership role, I am calling on all the Netzach I can muster. The best expression of this sefirah will be able to inspire and motivate others to accomplish the tasks at hand. This is a relational energy, though it is also that which awakens the life-force within and fuels the constant doing, striving, accomplishing on my journey through life.
Netzach Running Amok
Like Chesed, its parent, sitting above it on the Tree of Life, Netzach can run amok. It, too, is uninhibited flow and can become a brutal force. Think of those all-nighters we’ve pulled to complete a task; how often did we acknowledge the risks to our health or even to the quality of the work we would produce? Likewise, when our goal is to win – another quality of Netzach – are we considering all the costs? Netzach will need to be balanced by Hod – a relationship that Ruach D’vorah will introduce next week.
The Present Moment is an Eternity
This year, as we arrive at this sefirah, I find myself wondering about the nature of eternity. The forever-ness of Netzach points us to eternity. What is that? Is it a quality we can apprehend? In our lives, limited by time, what does eternity suggest?
My Savta (grandmother) taught me that the present moment is an eternity. Each moment contains all that came before and all the potential of what is yet to be. Be Here Now, a popular book by Ram Dass in my generation, launched the mindfulness revolution. We were taught to peel away at the layers of the material world, to discover our true essence or soul; and that part of us, we were told, lives on in perpetuity, it is everlasting.
Anyone who calls my phone when I’m not available, hears me invite them to “have a beautiful now”. So many have left a message wondering if their now already passed them by, as they listened to my voice. I have heard many variations on ‘now’ and ‘then’, and each time I’m amused. Because the whole point of eternity is that it’s not a game of semantics, it’s an invitation to simple Presence.
The Practice
In this week of Netzach I invite us all to practice being fully present to a moment. While on the road to accomplishing a task, completing a project, winning the game, let’s stop to smell the roses. Let’s bring all of our attention and focus all our senses on the beauty of the natural world. Make a commitment to notice something beautiful or surprising in your world, at least once a day, and stop – be fully present to the experience. Then remember that moment and find the quality of eternity that was present as you entered into the fullness of it.
I love the attribute of Hod. As a human being, I am in co-creative partnership with the Creator and all of Creation. Furthermore, I love to create rituals that transform energy and create sacred space. I often turn to Hod for guidance.
This week the flow of creative energy moves from the right hip and leg to the left – balancing our stance on this earth. Hod is the receptive attribute which catches, contains and gives form to the unbridled, powerful force of Netzach. Last week, Kohenet Ruach D’vorah described so clearly that instinctual drive and passion to “get things done” and leave a lasting impression. Hod says: if you want to leave your mark on the world, let it shine with splendor and stand out for its beautiful form.
Hod recognizes and celebrates the beauty of this created world and all its component parts. It makes itself known through our senses; and then we want to see more, touch again, inhale the perfume, taste the sweetness… So we create rituals to reenact and recreate the wow moments, and to remember the sense of sacredness we experienced.
We make forms that carry the essence of those peak moments, whether through art, music, movement or other creative expressions. We are inspired to use our unique gifts and skills to offer our contributions to the magnificent world of which we are a part, to reflect and enhance the splendor and majesty of Creation.
And we make our offerings with deepest humility. We know that our creative capacity is not our own, but a gift from the Source of creativity. We are humbled to receive and feel called to give back with gratitude. Hod is also related to the word hoda’ah – gratitude. When we create something beautiful, using our gifts and skills, and giving form to the essential divine energy that runs through this realm, we are saying “thank you”.
In this week of Hod, I want to get in touch with my passion, my drive to make a lasting contribution, to leave my legacy; I want to allow that forceful expression to awaken my creative gifts – whatever they may be – and with gratitude to fashion my contribution to the ever-evolving and changing world so that it adds to the beauty of what is, and crowns it with splendor.
Some other Hod practices this week:
Each morning, list 10 things you’re grateful for (in your life, your relations and the world)
Sing praises to the natural world around you
Create something to give away: bake a cake, write a poem or song, take a photo, and give it to someone who will be uplifted by your thoughtfulness
Lag be-Omer, the 33rd day of the 49 days between the holidays of Passover and Shavuot, has many identities. In kabbalistic terms, the minor holiday begins as the celebration of the yahrtzeit of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, the hero of the Zohar. The Talmud had told the tale of his flight from the Romans, hiding in a cave, located, variously, in Peki’in or Lod. That tale and others attested to a turbulent and romantic career for the 2nd century Tanna. His reappearance as the hero of the Zohar, a thousand years later, reinforced the strong shadow of his presence in the general imagination. Isaac Luria would journey from Tsfat to Meron to make a festive meal on Lag Be-Omer, to celebrate the yahrtzeit.
The Zohar described the death of Rabbi Shimon in its penultimate passages known as the Idrot. According to those accounts, Rabbi Shimon died in the throes of mystical ecstasy while envisioning the ultimate secrets of the structure of God. At the moment of his death, the disciples were surrounded on all sides by walls of fire. The practice of lighting bonfires on Lag Be-Omer, which has led to many abuses in the charedi community, probably comes from this association. Moreover, the tale of Rabbi Shimon’s emergence from hiding involved him seeing, like the Biblical Noah, a rainbow (Heb.- keshet). So bows and arrows became associated with the festive day.
Hence, Lag Be-Omer emerged to prominence in a certain historical nexus, the progression from the Zohar’s appearance in the 13th century to the fulfillment of its ideas in the Galilee of the 16th century. In 1272, Petachia of Regensburg, one of the epic Jewish travelers of the medieval period, reported that the Jews of the Galilee “pray for rain in the cave of Hillel and Shammai and in the study room of Shim’on Bar Yochai” on Mt. Meron, and that description was certainly in hand when the Zohar recorded the inhabitants of Meron vying for the right to bury Rabbi Shimon there. The buildings over Rabbi Shimon’s grave at Meron were built by Rabbi Avraham Galante, a Zohar exegete and student of Rabbi Isaac Luria. Now Lag Be-Omer had, along with its story, a site, namely the slopes of Mt. Meron, where the central celebration takes place to this day.
In the non-kabbalistic world, Lag be-Omer was linked to a mysterious “plague among the students of Rabbi Akiva” alluded to in the later midrashic sources (Yevamot 62b). Was this a veiled references to martyrdom during the Jewish revolt? In any case, Rabbinic authorities prescribed a certain reticence during the Omer and a general ban on weddings. This impulse took on greater weight as the Church gained prominence and the season between Passover and Shavuot began to be shadowed by the Christian celebrations of Easter and Pentacost, a period when the local Christian clergy might fall back on some powerful sermons about the circumstances of Jesus’ death, leading to pogroms by the locals. So Jewish authorities in Ashkenaz counseled circumspection during this period, a reticence about celebrations that survives to this day, punctuated only by the Zionist holidays of Yom ha-Shoah, Yom ha-Zikharon and Yom ha-Atzmaut.
These overlapping identities held sway until the mid-20th century. American Judaism, in its excelsis, was fueled by the images Masada, Jewish militarism and Holocaust guilt. For example, the most popular volume in our Temple library was once called “Jews Fought Too” about American Jewish participation in World War II. In the course of this interest is what Max Nordau called “muscular Judaism,” American-style, Lag be-Omer was rebranded, becoming, like Chanukah, the holiday of Jewish resistance.
These identities may not be valid or historically accurate, but Isaac Luria still said of the Omer that the Torah states, “wheat portion for every head” (Heb. omer la-gilgolet, Exodus 16:16.). Whether or not, then, one observes customs of mourning during the Omer, one’s hair should run wild, and the screaming babies at Meron, waiting to get their first haircut, also have a part in the day. And I will have a little beard trim, and contemplate the ascension of Rabbi Shimon, as he left behind this world of dichotomies, dialectics and disunities in pursuit of the place where everything is One.
Lag BaOmer: Starting Over Yet Again Rabbi Ebn Leader
On Thursday night (April 29) we will count and celebrate the 33rd day of the Omer. The Omer has a consistent rhythm to it—count seven days seven times, one after another, and they will lead you to the climax of the 50th day, standing at the foot of Mount Sinai. Marking the 33rd day feels like a strange break in that rhythm. It is not on the beat of seven, nor is it at the half point or at any other easily discernible breaking point. Why then do we mark it?
The Shulhan Arukh, the classic 16th century compendium of Jewish practices, has relatively little to say on the topic. “It is our custom not to marry between Pesach and Shavu’ot until the thirty-third of the Omer because the students of Rabbi Akiva died during that period . . . It is our custom not to cut our hair until the thirty-third of the Omer because they say that is when they stopped dying.” (Shulhan Arukh, OH 493:1-2)
One must go back to the Talmud, to get more context for this story.
It is said that Rabbi Akiva had 12,000 pairs of students spread out from the town of Gevat to Antipatres, and they all died in one stretch of time because they did not treat each other with respect. The world was left desolate until Rabbi Akiva came to our masters in the south and taught them.
Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehudah, Rabbi Yossi, Rabbi Shimeon, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua—they were the revival of Torah at that time.
It is taught: they (the 24,000) all died between Pesach and Shavu’ot. (bavli, Yevamot 62b)
I have heard this story many times, but how could I not hear it differently this year as we begin to allow ourselves to hope—might this pandemic soon be behind us? I will leave for another day the Talmud’s attempt to give a moralizing explanation for the staggering number of deaths. The pain itself comes through clearly regardless of explanations—“the world was left desolate . . . . ”
I am struck by the choice to tell the story through the prism of one person—Rabbi Akiva. In this story he was not one of those who developed a new hobby in quarantine. He was one of those who lost everything. Twenty-four thousand deaths and each one was personal. A lifetime dedicated to sharing Torah, to creating another generation in which Torah can live and continue, and it is all wiped out. The world was left desolate . . . .
There is tremendous hope and resilience in the following sentence, in which he starts over again with five new students, but if we are to honor that hope, we must acknowledge the crushing feelings of despair and futility that this hope shines through.
I am reminded of a poem by the Israeli poet Yonah Wallach, of blessed memory, to whom I must apologize for this quick and rough translation:
And there was nothing I could do with it
can you hear, nothing
I could do, it was in my hands
And there was nothing I could do with it.
I couldn’t do anything with it
Can you hear, I could stammer
A-a-and what I wanted to say
I could feel the worst possible
(You are about to solve a complicated problem,
You will give the correct answer,
It is the final exam, and suddenly you)
stand there like a little child with a bib around your neck
And say a-and . . . you repeat the question . . .
What did you do with it they ask, where,
you threw it all away, you had a chance,
and now you will have to start all over again.
(Yonah Wallach, Subconsciousness Opening Like a Fan, p. 75)
So many of us lost loved ones and friends.
So many lost jobs and sources of livelihood.
So many plans and projects and dreams that had so much invested in them ended abruptly or painfully faded away.
Do you have the strength to start all over again?
The Omer tells a deceptively simple story. Once you get out of Egypt, put one foot in front of the other and step after step will bring you to the mountain top.
The story of the 33rd day of the Omer is a story of a person who did that, who made real progress only to see it all collapse, and then found the spiritual fortitude to start all over again.
Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehudah, Rabbi Yossi, Rabbi Shimeon, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua. Another new beginning.
May we all connect to the joy of the 33rd day of the Omer, and may it seep into our own lives and nourish the seeds of courage that we need in order to start over again.
In the month of blossoming
At that well of bitter waters
after all the wandering, the unbearable thirst
and drought and fear of drowning
after all the disease
it happens, just like they said
it had when Moses cast in the tree
and there comes from this a glorious day
of miraculous sweetness.
Our escape from captivity
is a blossoming
of wings heading upwards
a quenching and glowing
the crossing of paths with a billion birds
in flight on an exodus journey
heading west and north, south and east
going towards light
and landing by the edge of the river.
This is the healing:
our counting off each day
of travel that makes us smarter
braver, purified by gratitude, in love
with manna like smiles that fall upon us
from the skies, and how little it takes
to settle in somewhere
other than where we began
again in the company of others
who dared as we did to start over,
to come closer.
I hope that everyone is having a joyous and wonderful Pesach. Since this Shabbos is within the holiday of Pesach we will not read the regular Parshat Hashavuah; instead we will be reading a passage from sefer Shmot [32:12-23] that relates to Pesach. For ‘maftir’ we will read, in a 2nd sefer Torah, the portion in Bamidbar [28:19-25] about the special Pesach sacrifices.
This Shabbos we read the beautiful prophecy given to Yechezkel [Ezekiel 37] about the revival of the dry bones.
The hand of the LORD was upon me, and the LORD carried me out in a spirit, and set me down in the midst of the valley, and it was full of bones …. they were very dry. And He said unto me: ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ And I answered: ‘O Lord GOD, Thou knowest.’ Then He said unto me: ‘Prophesy over these bones, and say unto them: O ye dry bones, hear the word of the LORD: Thus saith the Lord GOD unto these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that I am the LORD.’
On Pesach we celebrate the gift of freedom and renewal of life. May we be blessed to be new every day.
S’firat Ha’omer:
In the Torah we learn the mitzvah of the Counting of the Omer in the following verses:
And you shall count unto yourselves, from the morrow of the day of rest, from the day you brought the ‘omer’ [sheaf] of the waving; seven weeks shall there be complete.
Even unto the morrow after the seventh week, you shall count fifty days; and you shall present a new meal offering to Hashem. Vayikra 23: 15-16
REB SHLOMO zt”l on the relationship between Pesach when we celebrate our FREEDOM and SFIRAT HA-OMER – the COUNTING OF THE OMER
“You know my darling friends, freedom is a gift from heaven. If you would like to know who has the gift it’s very simple, it’s very simple. If someone says ‘I’m demanding freedom for myself’ this is not G-d’s freedom. But if someone walks the streets of the world, and he would like to see every human being free, this is G-d’s freedom. So on Pesach G-d gave us freedom, but not freedom to do what we want to do, not freedom to use dirty words, not freedom to push someone away. Free to walk to Mount Sinai, free to hear the word of G-d. Free to love the whole world, free to bring peace to the world.
And you know my darling friends; it’s a holy law, holy tradition, holy custom, that from Pesach till Shavuot you count the days. Because a slave does not count his days, a free person learns to count. A holy person counts his days, his blessings to people.
You know that some people say there is a world; [but] G-d never said love the world, G-d said love the person who is standing next to you. ‘Count’ the people; ‘count’ the people you see.”
Reb Shlomo zt”l. Los Angeles/ 1972
As is already familiar to us, Shavuot comes seven weeks after Pessach. More precisely starting on the second night of Pessach we count 49 days, and the fiftieth day is Shavuot; unlike the other holidays there is no stated calendar date for Shavuot in the Torah. In these verses we learn that it is a mitzvah to count each day and each week of the seven weeks of the Omer counting. The counting begins on the second day [night] of Pessach. On that day, in Temple times, we would bring an ‘omer’ measurement of the new barley crop, as a wave offering in the Beit Hamikdash. [A wave offering was offered as follows: the Kohen would stand in front of the Altar and lift/wave the ‘omer’ of barley in all six directions]. After we fully completed the counting of the seven weeks, we celebrated the holiday of Shavuot, [‘Shavuot’ means ‘weeks’] on the 50th day, with offering the “Mincha chadasha” the ‘new meal offering’ with two loaves of bread made of the new grain. We also brought the first fruits to the temple on this holiday. Shavuot is also the holiday of the “giving of the Torah”.
All the commentators point to a number of peculiarities in this text:
a] This mitzvah of ‘counting’ is quite unusual! What is it all about?
b] The Torah connects the counting with the wave offering of the ‘omer’ of barley and with the ‘new meal offering’ in the form of two breads.
c] The Torah does tell us the date for the beginning of the counting period… it simply tells to begin on the second day of Pessach, the day we offer the ‘omer of the uplifting’ of the barley.
d] The Torah does not tell us the date for Shavuot; rather we are only told that it is on the 50th day.
The Netivot Shalom brings a number of Chassidic teachings to explain some of the above. Briefly summarized, he explains that first we need to understand that this period of the counting of the Omer is given to us a time for spiritual self-purification. The seven weeks correspond to the seven ‘sfirot’, the seven emotional attributes. These are:
Chesed – Lovingkindness;
Gevurah – Justice and discipline;
Tiferet – Harmony, compassion;
Netzach – Endurance;
Hod – Humility;
Yesod – Bonding;
Malchut – Sovereignty, leadership.
In addition each day of each week corresponds to a particular ‘sfira’. The ‘sfirot’ represent our spiritual and psychological attributes. During this period of counting the Omer we work on refining these attributes on a personal level.
Why do we do this particularly at this time of the year? We have learned that on the night of Pessach when we were redeemed from Mitzrayim, Hashem revealed to us a great Divine light and then He hid it again. This was a foretaste of the great Revelation that we were going to experience at Sinai when Hashem was going to give us the Torah.
To receive this great light and to retain it in a permanent way we would have to prepare ourselves by refining our vessels. On the Night of Pessach it was given to us from above; it was a Divine free gift, given for just a short while, just long enough to inform us of our higher soul-selves, long enough to create a strong yearning to be forever close with Hashem, to forever live together with Hashem in our daily lives.
-Pessach is compared to our getting engaged to Hashem.
-The seven weeks of counting is our preparation period.
-Shavuot is the marriage, the union of Hashem with the people of Israel.
-The wave offering of the ‘omer of barley’ as well as the wave offering of the ‘new meal’ and the offering of first-fruits, demonstrated our belief and trust in Hashem, that all that we have comes from Hashem and only from Hashem, that it all belongs to Him alone. This represents the relinquishing of our attachments to material wealth, and nullifying our egotistical selves in readiness ‘to be in complete union’ with Hashem.
-The ‘Mincha chadasha’ – the gift of newness – is our gift of newness to Hashem, our readiness to be, to live anew and fresh every day with vitality and vigor, to live better and higher each day.
The Thirty-Third Day
[L’ag B’Omer is the thirty-third day of the Omer, the seven-week period between the holidays of Passover and Shavu’ot. In ancient times, this was a period devoted to offering the first fruits of the winter barley crop (an omer measure of grain), while the priest counted the days and offered prayers to ensure the abundance of the summer wheat crop. The Sages identified the weeks of the Omer with the journey of the Israelite people from slavery in Egypt to the foot of Mt. Sinai, where they received Divine revelation. In later times, mystics devoted themselves to spiritual refinement during the time of counting the Omer, using the qualities of the seven lower sefirot or Divine emanations of the kabbalistic Tree of Life to prepare for the receiving Torah anew each year. The Talmud teaches that the first thirty-two days of this seven-week period are a time of mourning, in remembrance of the 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva who died then. The qualities of Divine emanation associated with the thirty-third day are hod sheh’b’hod, the humility within splendor, the splendor that unfolds only through surrender.]
They died in droves
twelve thousand pairs of them,
so they say—
died of contagious disrespect,
pernicious contention,
these zealous students,
Rabbi Akiva’s boys.
Study buddies run amok,
they sank into backbiting
mud-slinging, one upsmanship;
arguing not for the sake of heaven
but on their own behalf.
Twenty-four thousand politicians of the soul,
ruthless competitors in
the marketplace of spirit,
forgot the untold grace
of paradox, the beauty of
elu v’elu, that these and also these
are the Living words.
It brought a plague upon their heads,
or so the pundits said—
a plague that fell upon them
like poisoned rain,
killing thousands
(and whom have I lately dissed,
ignored, abandoned,
labeled “lesser than,”
in my mad rush up the mountain?),
until the thirty-third day
when the dying stopped, abruptly,
so they say,
on the same date that,
some years later,
the great bar Yokhai,
khai, khai, bar Yokhai
Rabban Shimon bar Yokhai,
Akiva’s brilliant student,
who came to him after the plague,
departed this world, prophet-like,
in a fiery chariot, luminous,
ecstatic as a bridegroom.
On this day of hod sheh’b’hod
this day of splendrous surrender,
mass dying stopped,
and the true death,
the mystical merging,
was revealed,
as it is taught:
“Your term of exile is completed,”
yomar Kadosh.
Exhale! Go get a shave!
Go home and marry
your high school sweetheart!
She who has tended your garden,
go sit in her shade
like the spreading shadow
of a lush fig tree,
and count your blessings.
And what do we know
of those sweethearts,
those women—
the mothers, sisters, solitary brides,
waiting, patiently (or not),
for these twenty-four thousand
who would never return,
sitting in courtyards
or before humble hovels,
crushing grain into flour
on their grinding stones,
baking bread in clay ovens,
spinning flax threads and wool threads
day by day, making their own
silent offerings,
doing the unsung work,
waiting eagerly (or not)
to greet their young men—
each son, each brother,
each husband—
not knowing they
have died in the wars of
othering, of besting,
of putting down—
not knowing they
did not live
to fight another day?
Hod sheh’b’hod,
surrender to the splendor!
Light a bonfire
on the hillside of your heart,
in the forest of your mind!
Burn through the fakery,
the stubbornness
that passes for
endurance, the
ephemeral victories
that call themselves “eternal.”
Soften stiff hips, aching knees,
as you sink into the deepest bow,
allying hips and legs
with heart and belly.
Groan with the earth,
sigh with the tides,
wave with the sheaves,
let pride and greed evaporate
and rise to cloud,
then fall as rain,
purified, gentle—
a healing rain
of humble blessing.
––Rabbi Diane Elliot
* with thanks to poet Susan Windle for the phrase, “the splendor of surrender”
Message of barley offering Omer
Nothing too lowly
Nothing too inflexible
That cannot be moved and lifted
Transformed and turned To-ward.
Nothing too lowly that cannot
Be moved Toward and By and Up.
Message of the Omer period
Giving over to lifted up
Moving toward
With everything we have
Lowliest to the loftiest.
jsg
Morid Hatal — Seeing the Small Things
A teaching from Reb Shlomo
In the Amidah prayer everyday we say:
You are mighty forever Lord. You bring the dead back to life with abundant salvation.
In the winter we add: Mashiv haruah umorid hageshem. — You blow the wind and bring down the rain.
In the summer, starting with Pesach, we change this to Morid hatal. — You bring down the dew.
In 1968 in the House of Love and Prayer, Reb Shlomo gave over a teaching on Morid Hatal. It went something like this:
We all feel “dead” sometimes — sad, discouraged, hopeless. But our prayers remind us that G-d’s presence can always bring us back to life. Sometimes we experience G-d’s presence like wind and rain. Strong and dramatic. Big events that change our lives. Other times it’s like “dew“. Subtle, gentle. We might not notice the dew if we’re not paying attention. In the winter, we’re tuning in to the experience of wind and rain. In the summer, we’re tuning into the experience of dew. The level of dew is to notice the small things, and the small signals, that are all around us. And to experience G-d in all of it.
This is about counting the Omer
Parshat Emor
Torah Reading for Week of April 29 – May 5, 2018
By Rabbi Elisheva Beyer, ’06
“You shall count for yourselves – from the day after the day of rest, from the day when you bring the omer of the waving – seven weeks, they shall be complete. Until the day after unto the seventh week you shall count, fifty days; and you shall offer a new meal-offering to G-d.” Lev. 23:15-16, Parshat Emor.
According to Torah and our Sages, we are to count the forty-nine days from the second day of Passover (a “rest” day) until Shavuot. In ancient times, the counting was the time period between when the new crop of barley was offered on the altar on the second day of Passover until when two loaves of wheat bread were offered seven weeks later. The specific amount of barley brought was about two quarts, called an “omer.” Until the Omer offering is brought to the altar, any grain planted within the past year (from the 16th of Nissan) could not be eaten.
This time period has been refocused by our Sages to a time for meaningful opportunity to grow our souls. As with everything in Torah, layers of deep spiritual meaning are infused into it. Let’s take a look at some of the layers and what they meanings. Passover is the time of leaving Egypt (Mitzra’im, in Hebrew, meaning narrow places) where we were slaves. When we leave there, we must let go of our chametz, metaphorically identified as ego, and also signified by the barley offering. In the eyes of the ancients, barley was seen as more of an animal food, rather than wheat which was considered more appropriate for humans. Our ego is considered to be our animalistic nature – the selfish desires to do what is only best for ourselves. We need to let go of completely selfish desires in order to grow spiritually. Thus, our barley offering (animal-nature) is put on G-d’s altar. Then we begin transforming ourselves until the time when we can become a partner with the Holy One. In this instance, the partnership is literally shown in the process of making wheat into bread and coincides with receiving Torah.
Omer (עמר a measurement of barley) and yakar (יקר meaning precious) have the same gematria (the letters add up to the same numbers).[1] Thus, according to our Sages, this seven week time period is to be treasured. Within it, we have an opportunity to accelerate our spiritual growth. Following the guidance of our Sages, during the Omer, we focus on various personality traits, as noted in kabbalistic texts. On each of the forty-nine days of Sefirat HaOmer (“Counting of the Omer”), we refine, develop and illuminate another aspect of our soul. Each day of the sefirah has a specific facet of our personality for us to examine. It is designed as a time to refine our emotions, rather than being driven by them. In this way, we prepare ourselves to receive Torah on Shavuot.
According to R’ DovBer, the Maggid of Mezeritch, sefirah, “counting,” also means “illumination.” These forty-nine days are a bridge between the slavery of Egypt and Shavuot, a time when we are able to forge a contract with G-d and receive Torah. Shavuot is the fiftieth day and the time of receiving Torah: the time when we receive G-d’s blueprint for how to live our lives.
I don’t know about you, but Passover is hard on me. Hard on my faith. Hard on my marriage too. I can’t seem to make it to Seder night without a resounding chorus of my own low moans of protest. Protest against the toil of it all. The cleaning. The cooking. The taking care of everyone and everything…again. Another round of exhausting rites and ritual, long nights and a few too many fights. I inevitably seem to miss out on G!d along the way.
So I am particularly appreciative of Pesach Sheni. The Second Passover. The Holiday of Second Chances. This is the replay holiday, reserved for those who were unable to partake in the Pascal lamb on time. Exactly one month later, thankfully, we get another chance to tackle this whole freedom march, this time from a place of a little less stress and a lot more perspective.
I always seem to need it. I’m a second-chancer by nature. Doubling down on Pesach Sheni with a vengeance. – If you need it, you can have some second-chance too. It’s this Tuesday night/Wednesday and it’s real easy. Just get out a piece of matza and sit down with whoever you lost along the way. Ask for a second chance; from G!d, your spouse, your self, your friend.
After all, second-chances have their own particular flavor of freedom. It’s richer, more subtle and complex than the first taste could ever have.
Pesach Sheni
Let’s try this again.
To connect the daats
– to know each other
Biblically, mythically,
with all of our incompletes.
Let’s bring back the mystic,
because I missed-it
a month ago
in all the madness
of the Exodus.
I just flat-out missed it.
I was too bloody
tired
and you
were strained
and the table was painted
with the sweat and toil of slavery
though we played like we were free
for the sake of the children,
didn’t we?
– Masterfully.
We were as distant as
planets spinning
in their usual orbits
– light years between us.
‘Do not worry, we will loop
back around
to eclipse each other again’
– I said.
‘We are like the moon and the sun
that don’t ever really touch
except every once
in a while
on a starry night
one sphere atop another
still so distant
but stacked with precision
in a line of connection
and perfect symmetry.
It is all about our perspective,
isn’t it?
When the M of me stops
gazing down and
turns heavenward instead
to become ‘We’.
Just lift your head.
Come cast your shadow over me.
With nothing but forgiveness
between us
the close flat facts of our connection
plain as any page
of matza reads
You will bring the charoset
for sweetness between us
and I can bring the marror
to memorialize the distance.
We will sandwich them
just like the sages.
Forgive me.
I was lost in my own loss,
my own trauma.
I carried the old bones
of Joseph, you know.
Like a mother who buries
her priestly sons
in silence,
I lost my chance
to celebrate you.
But I won’t lose my chance
to beg forgiveness
and to press with compassion
that eternal reset button
on our friendship.
So let’s try this again.
With no pomp and circumstance.
No children, no guests, no friends.
Just a page of matza
and four open palms
between us.
“And with a strong hand
we were brought out of Egypt.”
You are my Exodus.
My strong hand.
Your forgiveness
is my freedom.
Our love is my holy land.
Let’s leave Egypt
again.
Sephirat Ha’Omer: seven weeks of spiritual practice, taking account of the elements – the sephirot — of spirit.
Remember the Periodic Table of the Elements from basic Chemistry? It’s a simple graphic, listing the elements of matter, arranged from the most rarified to the most dense.
Kabbalistic tradition offers something like it: two diagrams of the sephirot, linear and circular.
The linear model is anchored in three lines, like a human body: centre, right and left. Lines of sephirot flow from this stick body’s head down to its feet. The model tells a story: Once there was a primordial human being who contained all the possibilities of creation. We could recover these possibilities, if we develop a skilled mind.
The concentric circle model shows a set of nested sephirot. The outer circle is the most ineffable element; the centre circle is the most familiar. The model mimics ancient drawings of the universe: our familiar earth encircled by its atmosphere, its solar system, its galaxy, its quadrant, its universe, its creator. The diagram show us tiny yet protected, nestled within a complex divine body and a great cosmological process.
Two shapes; two stories. Two templates; two teachings. In each case, order, design, and boundaries shape what we see. That’s gevurah: the meaningful boundary.
Gevurah is the work of Elohim – God’s character in the Torah’s creation story. God speaks the chaos into shape, carving designs with sound. Notice Elohim’s work in the diversity of rocks, plants, and animals. In their predictable interactions. In the surprise developments when one adjusts to the other. Can we walk through the week with wonder at the world’s design?
Gevurah is present in human speech, too. Our feelings shape our breath; our mouths form breath into words. Our minds design sentences, monologues, conversations. Notice the complex vowel pattern in the word Gevurah, which also means military might. Eh-oo-ah. It’s the same pattern as Refuah, healing. Will we choose harmful or healing patterns of speech? How can we consciously perfect our conversational boundaries?
Gevurah, some teachers say, shines with red light. Red, the colour of blood. Of life. And death. “If am I not for myself who will be?” asks our teacher Hillel, because good boundaries can save life. “If I am only for myself, then what am I?” he adds, because strict boundaries can leave another to die. We can learn the practical wisdom to measure Gevurah correctly. What local resources will we find?
Universal Love: Omer Week One
SePHiRat HaOmer: a little spiritual practice to keep us Jews connected, during the seven long weeks between Pesach and Shavuot.
SePHiRat Ha’Omer.
In ancient Biblical times, a public ritual of counting the measure of the ripening spring grain.
In contemporary Kabbalistic times, taking a personal measure of the ten SePHiRot.
What does the Kabbalistic concept of “SePHiRot” mean? There’s no simple answer. The Hebrew word hints at:
SPHeRes. Regions on a map of the universe, as drawn by ancient philosophers.
miSPaRim. Hebrew for “numbers,” organized into a mathematical model of reality.
SiPPuRim. Hebrew for “stories” that show us how to navigate our world.
SePHaRim. Hebrew for “books” teaching us how to read our existence.
SaPPHiRes. Multifaceted gems, refracting light into its parts.
Sephirot, it seems, are the building blocks of reality.
If we grasp the nature of these elements, we understand reality. That’s the hope.
But real life only shows us the elements in combination. So, our conception of the elements follows our theory of the whole.
Is the universe is made of Divine energy? If so, sephirot are names of God.
Is that energy best described as light? Sephirot are colours of the rainbow.
Or as vibration? Sephirot are elemental sounds.
Or as consciousness? Sephirot are attitudes of spiritual consciousness.
During Sephirat Ha’Omer, we meditate on a different sephirah each week. On its expression of God, light, sound, and consciousness.
Week One begins at sundown Tuesday April 11 and ends at sundown Tuesday April 18.
Week One is the week of chesed. The week to contemplate God as El, the color white, the vowel sound ehh, and the spiritual quality of love.*
El is a universal God. Traces of El are expressed in all religions, present in all natural phenomena.The first character in the Torah to call God El is the mysterious priest Melchizedek (Gen, 14:22). God, says Melchizedek, is El Elyon, Koneh Shamayim Va’aretz. Ultimate God, Creator/Owner/Shelterer of Earth and Heaven.
Look this week, for traces of El. Do you see El in acts of inter-religious friendship? In the “spiritual not religious movement”? In the impulse to walk outdoors instead of attend synagogue?
White reminds me of snow and clouds. It is the colour of water, of deep quiet, of high mountains and blindingly bright light. A colour whose purity can be attained only through grace. When do I yearn for such purity? How do I imagine it will heal me?
The sound “ehh” carries breath through the word chesed. When do you breathe out the sound “ehh”? For you, is it a sound of determination or resignation? What words animated with “ehh” come to mind? Do they cluster around a theme? Can you arrange them in a whimsical rhyme?
And the quality of love — it’s like a rainbow in itself. Or perhaps a white light of integrated qualities. Think about it: Love relies on the power of all seven sephirot of the Omer: Kindness. Boundaries. Compassion. Endurance. Gratitude. Reliability. Presence.
How do those seven qualities challenge you in love? How do they support you?
I ought to be lighting a bonfire tonight, since we’ve entered the 33rd day of the Counting of the Omer. In Hebrew, the number 33 is spelled lamed-gimel; the two letters together are pronounced Lag, and the 33rd day of the Omer is called Lag b’Omer. And on Lag b’Omer, people light bonfires. Why? Well, it depends on who you ask.
One interpretation of the chronology in Torah holds that on this date, manna first began to fall from the heavens for the Israelites in the desert. Lag B’Omer (celebrated with picnics and rejoicing) can be understood as a commemoration of that happy miracle.
Another story (found in the Talmud) holds that 24,000 of the students of the great sage Rabbi Akiva died from a plague during the counting of the Omer because they failed to give one another proper respect (or, in Reb Zalman’s interpretation, they failed to see the chen, divine grace, in one another.) Many traditional Jews observe limited mourning customs during the first 32 days of the Omer, in remembrance of that plague; Lag b’Omer marks the day when the plague came to its end, and hence, we celebrate.
An alternate interpretation holds that the students died as part of the Bar Kokhba revolt against Rome. We spend the first 32 days of the Omer mourning their deaths…until the 33rd day of the Omer, when we rejoice that the massacre finally ended. (The killing may have come to an end, but the outcome of the war was pretty bleak; the name Judea was erased from Roman maps, the study of Torah was prohibited, and Jews were barred from entering Jerusalem. Oy.) Fearing of reprisal from Roman authorities, the sages of the Talmud didn’t want to mention the failed rebellion by name, so spoke of a “plague” instead.
Some Jews celebrate the yarzheit (death-anniversary) of the sage Shimon bar Yochai on this day; he was a student of Rabbi Akiva’s, and it is to him that the Zohar — germinal work of Jewish mysticism — is traditionally attributed. In this understanding, we light bonfires to symbolize the way his teachings illuminated the night.
It interests me that these are the stories we tell about this minor holiday. Today is a day for remembering how important it is that we see the grace in one another, and honor one another’s learning. It’s a day to remember the dangers of following messianic figures into violent rebellion. And it’s a day for celebrating illumination: not just the literal illumination of burning sticks and logs, but the metaphysical and spiritual illumination embodied in the wisdom of Torah and the Jewish mystical tradition.
In honor of that tradition, I want to offer a Hasidic teaching which relates to Lag B’Omer. It has nothing to do with the plague, or the rebellion, or anyone’s yarzheit, but it’s my favorite teaching about the holiday, hands down. This comes from a Hasidic rabbi called the B’nei Yisaschar (R’ Zvi Elimelech of Dinov.) (You can find a version of it in this post The illumination of a good heart; I’ve learned it from my teacher Reb Elliot.) It’s about the importance of having a good heart.
Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai said to his students: Go and see which is the good path to which a person should cleave. Rabbi Eliezer said: A good eye. Rabbi Yehoshua said: A good friend. Rabbi Yossi said: A good neighbor. Rabbi Shimon said: To foresee consequences. Rabbi Elazar said: A good heart. Their teacher said to them, I prefer the words of Elazar ben Arach over your words, for included in his words are all of yours.
–Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), 2:13
Each of the rabbis’ answers is important; it matters that we look on the world wisely, that we be good friends to one another, that we be good neighbors, that we pay attention to the consequences of our actions. But having a good heart is the most important of all, because it encompasses all of these.
The Hebrew word for good, tov, spelled tet-vav-bet, has a numerical value of 17. The word for heart, lev, is spelled lamed-bet, which has a numerical value of 32. Taken together, they make up the 49 days of the Omer. The whole journey of counting the Omer can be seen as a journey toward learning to truly have, and express, one’s good heart. We’ve spent the first 32 days of the Omer cultivating the quality of heart; Lag B’Omer marks the transition into cultivating the goodness of those hearts, so that by the time Shavuot rolls around we’re really ready for what’s coming. Another resonance: Lag B’Omer is the 33rd day of the Omer; and the 33rd word of the Torah is tov. This is a day for celebrating what’s good.
Returning to the Pirkei Avot quotation: what does it mean to look at the world with wisdom? Looking at the world as God did at the time of creation. What does it mean to have a good eye? It means seeing that creation is good, as God repeats throughout the early verses of Genesis. What does it mean to be a good friend? It means bringing opposites together in friendship, as God did in creating darkness and light as balances for one another. The Bnei Yisaschar sees the story of creation as a set of metaphorical instructions for us.
If we’ve been doing the spiritual work of counting the Omer — the work of refining our hearts — then today is a tipping point, a day when our hearts are capable of opening up in radical new ways. It’s that open-heartedness which allows us to see the goodness in all things, to really experience the world with a lev tov, a good heart. May we all be blessed to grow in good-heartedness this Lag B’Omer, and may that expansive quality of heart enrich the final days of the Omer to come.
The Hasidic master known as the Sfat Emet speaks about the period of the Counting of the Omer as a time to change the Hebrew letter א / Aleph to the Hebrew letter ע / Ayin.
Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew word emirot which can mean “words.” Ayin is the first letter of the Hebrew word Omer symbolizing the counting of the Omer. Perhaps the Sfat Emet was thinking about the process of bringing the words of God into the world, and connecting this idea to the process of the Counting of the Omer.
Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew word Adonai (God). Ayin is the first letter of the Hebrew word Olam (world). So by changing Aleph to Ayin we can bring God into the world.
Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew word for light, ohr. Ayin is the first letter of the Hebrew word for eyes, eynayim. So by changing Aleph to Ayin we make divine light visible to our eyes.
The numerical value of the letter Aleph is “one” and the numerical value of the letter Ayin is “seventy.” In going from Aleph to Ayin we go from the number one to the number seventy.
Our tradition teaches us that there are seventy different nations in the world. In moving from Aleph to Ayin, one to seventy, we can aspire to bring the truth of God to all the nations of the world
Our Rabbis also taught us that there are seventy different faces of the Torah. Some say that there are seventy different ways to understand each part of the Torah. One can imagine that by changing the Aleph (one) to Ayin (seventy) we bring the full wisdom of the Torah into the world.
The diversity of humanity is like a prism which refracts God’s light as it enters the world. Through this process of seeking out the seventy faces of Torah, the diversity of humanity refracts the divine light of the Torah into the world. Each individual sees Torah in his or her own way. This process of refraction creates a beautiful array of different types of light and wisdom that can help bring the world to wholeness.
So how do we transform Aleph into Ayin? To make this change we need to go on a spiritual journey of discovery and change. Spiritual journeys are difficult, and they rarely take us along a straight line. The Counting of the Omer is this journey. If all of humanity took the time to bring divine love, compassion, and peace into the world, we could change the Aleph to Ayin. May it be so, this year and every year.
According to Kabbalah, Rainbow Day is also the day of Malkhut in Yesod, a unity of masculine and feminine that represents a milestone on the way to the revelation of Shavuot. For us, it can represent a chance to commit ourselves to the rainbow covenant, to turn from actions that destroy the earth, to turn our lives away from unraveling earth’s climate and the web of life, from diminishing earth’s abundance.
The rainbow signified a new covenant between God and the land. It’s time for us to imagine a new covenant between humanity and the Earth, including the land and the seas, one that we start to live by as we change our lifestyles and habits. We can use the covenantal vision of the Shmitah year in Leviticus 25 to help guide our steps. And maybe next year it will be time to celebrate that new covenant.
Rainbow Day is pregnant with ritual possibilities related to the elements, to the midpoint between equinox and solstice, to the time between the fire of Lag B’Omer and the fire of Sinai, to global warming, to healing the waters, to the growing wheat crop in the land of Israel, and to all the meanings related to the journey from freedom to revelation. And rainbows are a symbol of diversity: the diversity of colors, of people, and of all life.
A couple of years ago, after several years of trying to get all the way through the counting of the Omer, I built an Omer-counter with a foolproof reminder system – my son. It’s based on the Christian advent calendar in that it’s a series of forty-nine boxes (seven rows of seven) which has randomly placed toys inside the boxes. NO more forgetting to count in the evening! Every night, I have an excellent reminder, and so I do not lose my chance to say the blessing when I count, or worse yet, forget altogether and have to quit counting for the year.
It’s a yearly frustration for lots of people who try to keep up with the Omer – it’s easy to screw it up and lose track, and according to the tradition, if you mess up, well, hey tough. You’re out of luck.
That’s why it’s odd that about a month into the Omer (today, in fact) there’s a little known holiday that’s about …second chances. Pesach sheni ( or “second passover”) is a biblically based holiday that happens because, as is related in Numbers chapter 9, when God commands the Israelites, a year after the exodus, to bring the passover offering, there were certain people who had become ritually impure through contact with a dead body, and so, could not prepare the Passover offering on that day.
They approached Moses and Aaron and said, “We are unclean by the dead body of a man; wherefore are we to be kept back, so as not to bring the offering of God in its appointed season among the children of Israel?” (Numbers 9:7). After these people approached Moses and Aaron, God tells them that from then on, if anyone is ritually impure on passover, or is unable to keep passover for some other reason beyond their control, “he shall keep the passover unto God in the second month on the fourteenth day at dusk they shall keep it; they shall eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs.” (Numbers 9:11)
Pesach sheni is a strange holiday. We don’t really observe it – mostly because there isn’t really anything to observe – there’s no requirements, since we no longer bring sacrifices. And yet, it’s sort of a shame. Here we are, in the midst of a period where every day counts, where there are no second chances, where you have to get it exactly right, or you lose your chance (at least until next year), and there’s this holiday that interrupts it for the purpose of giving a second chance for a holiday that occurred a month prior – and not only that, but it’s the only holiday we have the sole purpose of which is to make up for a holiday that someone missed out on.
What is that all about?
Rabbi Yosef Y. Schneersohn is cited by his son-in-law as saying that, “Pesach Sheni teaches us that ‘Nothing is ever lost: it’s never too late!” and then the latter Schneersohn goes on to say, “Our conduct can always be rectified. Even someone who is impure, who was far away and even desired to be so, can still correct himself.” He continues, “Given the significance of Pesach Sheni, one might ask: Why was it instituted a full month after Pesach, in the month of Iyar? Wouldn’t it have been better to atone for our deficiencies at the earliest opportunity, in Nissan?”
“We can answer this question by comparing the spiritual characteristics of Nissan and Iyar. Nissan is the month of revelation, the month during which God revealed His greatness and redeemed the Jewish people despite their inadequacies. Iyar, by contrast, is the month of individual endeavor, a quality that is exemplified by the mitzvah of Sefirat HaOmer. The theme of Iyar, self-refinement initiated by the individual himself, is in keeping with the nature of Pesach Sheni, the festival in which an individual who was not motivated by Pesach is given an additional opportunity to elevate himself.”
So, two things:
First, the key to pesach sheni is precisely that it does occur a month later, during the Omer. Unlike the first Pesach, which is a national holiday, Pesach sheni is an individual’s holiday. The second thing is the way in which Pesach sheni came about – unlike well, pretty much everything else in the Torah, it isn’t initiated by God, given to Moses and Aaron and then passed on to the people. Instead, Pesach sheni is initiated by the people themselves, by a group of individuals. In fact, I know of really only one other case like this one: the daughters of Tzelophechad (which also appears in the book of Numbers, farther along, in Numbers 27), who challenged a law of inheritance whereby only sons could inherit, even if there weren’t any. They brought their challenge and God told Moses that they were right and amended the law.
I think that that parallel to the daughters of Tzelophechad is the key to why this is the only holiday that is a “make-up” for another holiday. It’s not just that it’s a group of individuals who want a make-up. It’s that these individuals saw a specific wrong that they wanted addressed, and they wanted it addressed for the sake of justice to individuals who have no control over being excluded from the nation. In the case of Tzelophechad’s daughters, the case is their sex; in the case of pesach sheni, it’s because they were doing another mitzvah ( caring for the dead). But the important thing is that these two cases are things which exclude them from the body of the nation in some crucial way. It is because of this that they take their complaint to God, and God answers them, “Of course, you are right.”
IN recent days, when we have seen so much change so quickly both in the Jewish community and out of it in regards to gay marriage and inclusion, this is a message that we should all take to heart. Pesach sheni isn’t merely a second chance for the individuals who were excluded, but is a second chance for the nation to include in its inheritance and in its moment of revelation everyone who throws their lot in with the Jewish people. Because even God can make a mistake, and even God can admit it and rectify it.
The period of the counting of the Omer, from Passover to Shavuot, is generally viewed as a time of mourning. Lag B’omer stands as a refuge of joy amidst a time of subtle sadness. It is a thirty-two-day stretch from Passover to Lag B’omer, where weddings, music and even haircuts are not performed. These days were reserved to mourn, being that it is the period in which 24,000 of Rabbi Akiva’s students died from a mysterious plague. They died, says the Talmud, because “they did not act respectfully towards each other.”
Simplyput, Lag B’Omer, the thirty-third day of counting the Omer, is celebrated because it was at that time when the students ceased dying. More importantly, and a bit ironically, Lag B’Omer is also distinguished as a day of joy since it is the day of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai’s passing- his yartzeit.
Carob and Water
Rabbi Shimon was a second century sage who was one of five students of Rabbi Akiva who survived the plague. Beyond being a prime student of the illustrious Rabbi Akiva, as he once told his own disciples, “My sons, learn my ways, for my ways are the finest of the finest of Rabbi Akiva’s,” he was a great person in his own right.
Rabbi Shimon was one of the first to openly transmit to his circle the mystical teachings of the Torah, otherwise known today as Kabbalah, and he was the author of its fundamental text, the book of Zohar (Illumination).
In contrast to the other students who perished during this dreadful period, Rabbi Shimon Bar Yachai survived, and went on to live a full life, passing away at a ripe old age. So much so that when he did move on to the other realm it was seen as a time to rejoice, to celebrate the life and work of this noble teacher. The fact that he did complete his life and continued to teach and spread Torah, has tremendous historical and sociological significance, with practical ramifications until this present day. In addition, it was R. Shimon himself who requested of his people to dedicate the day of his passing as “the day of my joy.”
Steps in the Path of Personal Development
As there are no coincidences, everything is divinely orchestrated and organized, what needs to be explored is the connection between his death as a time of joy, and the others students’ deaths as a time to mourn, and their relationship with the counting of the Omer.
The forty-nine days of the counting represent forty-nine steps in the path of personal development. Kabbalistic teachings speak of seven primary emotional Sefirot. These are, chesed/giving, gevurah/ restraint, tiferes/harmony, netzach/ambition, hod/devotion, Yesod/connection and malchus/ receptiveness. Each of these emotional attributes on their own, without a solid dosage from the others creates a reality of tohu — confusion and chaos.
For example, having chesed without gevurah would be to allow a child to do whatever they want, at whatever time they want. Yet, this form of ‘giving’ is counterproductive, as children need borders and discipline to properly flourish. To introduce an order of tikkun — correction and perfection — there needs to be a blending of the attributes so that each one of the seven contains all the other, hence the number forty-nine, the days of counting and perfecting our emotional state.
The Middle Path
The point of it all is balance, the middle path, the balancing and counter-balancing of our emotional state. The most extreme of our emotions are aroused in a time of tragedy or in a time of comedy, when life throws us something unexpectedly bad, or something surprisingly good. Either way, our instincts are immediately awakened, and most often, we go into auto-pilot and react as opposed to being pro-active.
Of course, the death of an individual is going to stir within us deep emotions of sadness. In fact, the Rambam/ Maimonides refers to a person who does not show sadness in the face of death as an achzari — a cold hearted person. Not only can we mourn, but we are even encouraged to weep and bewail corporal death. The first three days of Shiva are called the days of weeping. So there is certainly a time for sadness. Sadness, but not depression, which is when you think life is over, but deep sadness. And yet in the midst of a national time of subtle mourning, this being the first 32 days of The Omer, which commemorates the unanticipated death of the students of R. Akiva, there stands Lag B’Omer like a Tree of Life. The joyous day of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai’s passing comes along and counter-balances our emotional state, and injects a healthy dosage of joy.
It is precisely the mystic par excellence, the illustrious R. Shimon, the one who appears beyond the immediate, who can show us that even in death, an assumed end, with no hope or future, there can be found joy and a time of rejoicing. For what at times seems “bad” at the moment may turn out to be “good” at a later time, and what is perceived as an end in the now may morph into a beginning of a brighter future in the present moment.
Lag B’Omer gives life and hope to the days that are otherwise meant to mourn. On the calendar, Lag B’Omer is on Chai Iyyar – the eighteenth day of the month of Iyyar. Chai is life, for Lag B’Omer gives life to the entire month of Iyyar, and by extension infuses all the days of our life with a healthy measure of joy, optimism, and hopefulness.
The memory of my beloveds
my birth right
a childhood home
first school
the library —
I remember.
The memory of my parents
The memories of their parents
immigrants
a shop in the city for those who made it
the goldene medinah
school a job a home
children.
I remember the memories of my parents
of their parents
the ones who didn’t make it –
I remember.
My great grandparents crouching in a corner of a cold room
Ukraine Minsk Byelorusse
Vilna Salonika Casablanca
Kiev Kishinev
I remember hiding their children in a cellar;
A broken leaf of a table for study
candle light
our books
the holy intent of our lives.
Outside they howled in the street
we sat huddled together for warmth around a fire
reading our books and teaching our children.
In a world without sense we made sense.
Posted: 30 Mar 2013
We mark the Omer day
by day, spring unfolding light
as snowflakes in the breeze. One
follows another; we measure each week
of this dusty journey through
wild unknowing. Come and count.
Time to make our qualities count.
The kaleidoscope shifts every day,
each dawn a lens that God shines through.
What in me will be revealed as light
streams into me each week?
Seven colors of the rainbow make one
beam of white. God is One
and God’s in everything we count.
Lovingkindness permeates the first week,
then boundaries, harmony, each day
a different lens for light
to warm our hearts as it glows through.
And when the Omer count is through?
We’ll stand at Sinai, every one
— every soul that’s ever been — light
as Chagall’s floating angels. Count
with me, and treasure each day.
A holy pause caps every week.
Endurance comes into play: week
four. We wonder, will we make it through?
Humility and splendor in a single day,
two opposites folded into one.
Roots strengthen us as we count.
Every day, more work to do and stronger light.
Torah is black fire on white, light
of our lives. In the seventh week
time warps and ripples as we count.
Kingship and presence come through,
transcendence and immanence bundled as one,
wholly revealed on the forty-ninth day…
Feel the light now pouring through.
Each week the seven sefirot become one.
It’s time to count the Omer, now, today.
Lag B’Omer and the Chutzpah of Bar Yochai
A Teaching from Gershon…
The 33rd Day of the Counting of the O’mer arrives Thursday, May 10, a celebratory time that is celebrated for two seemingly separate commemorations that has some of us confused and others of us totally oblivious. On the one hand, we are told it is a celebration of the ascension of the great second century mystic, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. And on the other hand, we are told it is a celebration of the end of a 32-day plague that struck thousands of Rabbi Akiva’s disciples (Talmud Bav’li, Yevamot 62b).
Their shortcoming is alluded to in the number of days that they took ill, 32, the Gemmatria (numerical value) for ck lev, the Hebrew word for “heart”. It is said that they did not accord one another proper honor, or sucf ka’vod, whose numerical value, too, is 32, as honoring emanates from the heart. Akiva so empowered those who studied with him that many of them felt that they were one head above the others, resulting in lack of respect by omission or commission.
Why did this tragic plague occur specifically during the period between Spring and Summer – between Passover and Shavuot? Because that is the period during which the luster of the shechinah is most potent — the zee’v ha’shecheenah vbhfav uhz –as the Light of Creaton conjures then the fruition of all that lies dormant in the heart of the Earth, as is written: “The Earth is illuminated by [God’s] Glory” (Ezekiel 43:2). And honor is related to all this since when we honor someone, we call forth their shine, their luster, their brilliance, their beauty (16th-century Rabbi Yehudah Loew of Prague [MaHaRaL] in Chiddushay Agado’t, Vol. 1, folio 133 – Mesechet Yevamot).
The 33rd day of the O’mer, incidentally, falls on the 18th day of the Hebrew month of Iyyar, and 18 implies Life, it being the numerical value of the Hebrew word for Life, chai hj. And so this deadly plague ceased on that day, and the joy of life was then restored. Thus the celebration behind what we call Lag B’Omer, the 33rd day of the Counting of the O’mer (16th-century Rabbi Yeshayahu ben Avraham in Sefer Ha’Sh’LaH, Mesechet Pesachim, Sefirat Ha’Omer 1:5).
Good.
Now what has Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai got to do with all this? Why is he celebrated on Lag B’Omer?
Listen. Rabbi Shimon happened to have been one of Akiva’s foremost disciples. He was among the few who were not stricken by the plague. He lived and breathed Akiva’s teachings, not just studied them. Day after day, as the Great Force of Darkness hovered over Judea, draining the disciples of their life breath, Bar Yochai challenged it, stood in its way, tried to avert it, to drive it away, to send it back to where it came from, but to no avail. A Heavenly Decree was a Heavenly Decree. But Rabbi Shimon was not one to give up and he persisted relentlessly. By Day 32, The Great Force of Darkness began to weaken in the face of Rabbi Shimon’s tenacity. There he stood once again, chanting his prayers and incantations at the looming Force of Darkness. Realizing that it could no longer hold out against the master, the Force of Darkness complained to God:
“Master of the Universe! You sent me to wreak this destruction upon these disciples of Akiva and Bar Yochai is not allowing me to complete my task!”
Said God: “Pay no attention to the son of Yochai and continue fulfilling My Decree.”
The Great Force of Darkness, empowered by God, returned to cast its fatal shadow over the land, but again Bar Yochai was there to block its path, and this time outright threatening the Spirit of Darkness: “If you will not go away, I will utter an incantation upon you that will prevent you from ever again returning to the Heavens! And you will end up like the fallen angels Aza and Aza’el.”
His words further weakened the Spirit’s resolve and it fled back to the Heavens, this time terrified by Bar Yochai’s threat. Again, the Great Force of Darkness complained to God and again God admonished the Spirit not to any attention to the threats of Bar Yochai. When the Spirit of Darkness returned to resume its mission, Bar Yochai again blocked its path.
“You dare prevent what God has decreed?!” the Spirit angrily shouted. “Can’t you see that the Light of Torah has gone out, and it is destined to be forgotten? That few can uphold the sacred intent of its precepts?”
Said Bar Yochai: “Heaven Forbid! For the Light of Torah will never be extinguished if even a few are around to carry it, nor will Torah ever be forgotten, for her wisdom and inspiration is everlasting and will continue to shine against all odds and in spite of all impediments. As long as there is but even a single soul who believes this, it shall be so!”
In that moment, the Spirit of Darkness was called back to the Heavens and a great light shone in its place, accompanied by a still small voice that declared: “How worthy are you, son of Yochai, in that God decrees above and you abolish the decree below” (adapted from Tikunei Zohar, folios 255a-b and Talmud Bav’li, Shabbat 138b).
Back in the Heavenly Realm, the Spirit of Darkness asked God: “Why did you give in to him? He is but flesh and blood!”
Said God: “Because he reminded me of Noah.”
And so, the 33rd day came and went, and there was no more plague. And so, on the 33rd Day of the counting of the O’mer, we celebrate the end of the plague that struck Akiva’s disciples, and we celebrate the man who boldly challenged the Great Force of Darkness and reminded God, so to speak, of Noah, that all it takes to keep the world going is a single heart that believes, a single spark of hope, a single act of relentless chutzpah like the audacity of Bar Yochai.
From the Zohar
In Death, ‘Life’
Dr Bitti Roi
The Zohar portrays Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai’s death not as a separation, but as a joyous, revelatory (and fiery) union with the divine.
Lag Ba’omer (the 33rd day of the counting of the Omer) is the largest pilgrimage in the Jewish world. Every year, tens of thousands flock to the tomb of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, the undisputed hero of the Zohar.
The Zohar describes in great length the death and burial of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, also known by the moniker Rashbi, in Meron, near Safed (Tzfat). His significance and the presence of his grave in Meron seem to be the main impetus for the development of Safed as an important Jewish center of Kabbalah in the 16th century. While some scholars have explained the rise of Safed through economic developments (in particular, the burgeoning wool industry in the Galilee), these explanations underestimate the esteem in which Jews exiled from Spain in the late 15th century held the Zohar and its hero.
This text recounting Rashbi’s death and burial is recited at his grave in Meron every year, and many kabbalistic Jews also say it at the time of a person’s death. Just as the death of Moses draws the Torah to a close, Rashbi’s death appears near the end of the Zohar, creating a parallel between Moses, giver of Torah, and Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, giver of the esoteric Torah.
While Moses’ death is mournful and private, attended only by God, the death of Rashbi is marked by gathering, Torah teaching and the revelation of secrets. There is weeping, yes, but also joy and exaltation, because his death is understood as a longed-for union with the divine. For this reason, the day of Rashbi’s death is called a hillula — a wedding celebration.
The Zohar has much to say on the subject. With the assistance of the Pritzker translation, I will focus below on just a few selected passages from this 20-page homily.
On that day when the companions gathered in the house of Rabbi Shimon, and he was arranging his affairs to depart from the world — and before him were his son, Rabbi Elazar, Rabbi Abba and the rest of the companions, and the house was full …
As they were sitting down, Rabbi Shimon opened his eyes and saw what he saw; fire whirled through the house. Rabbi Shimon said, “This hour is an hour of favor, and I want to enter without shame into the world that is coming. Here, holy words that I have not revealed until now, I wish to reveal in the presence of Shekhinah — before they say that I departed deficiently. This is why they were concealed in my heart: to enter with them into the world that is coming.”
Zohar 3:287b–296b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
Rashbi’s death becomes the moment of his final revelation, complete with flames reminiscent of the smoke on Mount Sinai that accompanied the revelation of Torah. That revelation comes, naturally, in the form of an interpretation of scripture. Rabbi Shimon tells his disciples:
“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is toward me” (Song of Songs 7:11). All the days that I have been bound to this world, I have been bound in a single bond with the blessed Holy One. Because of this, now his desire is for me — He and this whole holy entourage — to hear in joy concealed words and praise for the Holy Ancient One, concealed of all concealed. Separate, separated from all, yet not separate; for all are joined to it, and it is joined to all. It itself is all! Ancient of ancients, concealed of all concealed. Arrayed and not arrayed. Arrayed in order to sustain all; not arrayed, for it cannot be found.
Zohar 3:287b–296b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
All of Rashbi’s life, he was bound to God. Death is not separation or severing of that bond, but consummation — the fulfillment of the bond.
As death approaches, Rabbi Shimon proceeds to offer up his secrets, sharing kabbalistic wisdom until his final breath. And like his teacher Rabbi Akiva, whose soul famously departed with the word “one,” Rashbi also dies with a significant word on his lips, as reported by one of his companions:
Rabbi Abba said: The Supernal Holy Lamp had not finished saying “life” before his words subsided. I was writing, intending to write more, yet I heard nothing. I did not raise my head, for the light was too great and I could not look. Just then, I trembled. I heard a voice saying, “Length of days and years of life and peace they will add to you” (Proverbs 3:2). I heard another voice: “Life he asked of You — You gave it to him, length of days forever and ever” (Psalms 21:5).
Zohar 3:287b–296b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
Rashbi’s final word is “life.” And as he says it, Rabbi Abba, furiously scribbling notes, is unable to lift his own gaze from the page because so much light emanates from the bed.
There is no sharper paradox than marking death with the word “life,” but here it is fitting. Rashbi’s final exhalation of the word “life” emphasizes the idea that, more than physical states, life and death are spiritual ones: one may be physically alive yet spiritually dead, or physically dead yet full of life — through having lived a meaningful life close to God.
Let’s look together at one more piece of text, which describes the flames:
All that day, fire did not cease from the house. No one reached him — no one could, since light and fire surrounded him all day long. I flung myself on the ground and wailed.
After the fire disappeared, I saw that the Supernal Lamp, Holy of Holies, had departed from the world — enwrapped, lying on his right, his face smiling.
Rabbi Elazar, his son, rose, took his hands and kissed them. As for me, I licked the dust beneath his feet. The companions wanted to weep, but they could not utter a sound. Then their weeping began.
After his bier emerged, it rose in the air, fire flaring before it. They heard a voice: Come and enter! Gather for the wedding celebration of Rabbi Shimon. “He shall enter into peace; they shall rest upon their couches” (Isaiah 57:2).
Zohar 3:287b–296b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
This homily of Rashbi’s death, which is not merely studied in the abstract but, as previously mentioned, recited and even performed year after year, presents the quintessential kabbalistic model of holy death: not an ending but a completion, not a loss or separation but a union. Rashbi’s death is the final revelation of the giver of the hidden Torah. On Lag Ba’omer, people ascend to Meron not only to mourn, but to participate in the joy of that hillula.
The Zohar tells us that Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai did not leave this world through gradual decline, apathy or loneliness. He departed surrounded by his disciples, still teaching Torah and leaving behind a life fully lived. His death — with the word “life” on his lips — offers a model not only for a worthy death, but also for life itself.
From the Zohar
Passover’s Afterglow
The Zohar reflects on the opportunity of Pesach Sheni, Second Passover.
Rabbi Ebn Leader
The Torah provides for a Second Passover (Pesach Sheni), an opportunity to make up the paschal sacrifice prescribed on the 14th day of the month of Nisan: “Speak to the Israelite people, saying: Regarding anyone, whether you or your posterity, who is defiled by a corpse or is on a long journey and would offer a Passover sacrifice to God, they shall offer it in the second month, on the 14th day of the month, at twilight. They shall eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs” (Numbers 9:10–11).
Pesach Sheni was not part of the original festival cycle. It was introduced by special request for Israelites who were unable to participate in the paschal sacrifice on the appointed day. It falls exactly one month after the original festival.
Today, we don’t offer paschal sacrifices, so Pesach Sheni has less relevance in our religious lives. But the day is sometimes marked as an optimistic celebration of second chances. For the Zohar however, this story is more complicated, as it runs up against the Zohar’s understanding of sacred time.
Regarding the mitzvah to make a Second Passover for those who were unable (to participate in the first) or who were impure at the time:
If the inner meaning of Passover, the intimacy of trust (raza d’mehemnuta) with which the people of Israel engage, is dominant in Nisan, making that the time for joy and celebration, how is it possible for those who were unable or impure to celebrate it in the second month? The time has already passed.
Zohar 3:152b
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The Zohar understands that cycles of sacred time reflect a shifting schedule of divine energies woven into the fabric of reality. At different times of the year, God makes different aspects of divinity available for us to engage with in trusting intimacy, what the Zohar calls raza d’mehemnuta. The timing of Passover, the Zohar contends, provides an opportunity to enter the presence of the divine queen, God’s indwelling presence on Earth, the sefira of Malkhut. That particular aspect of divinity is available for intimate encounters specifically on the full moon of Nisan. But as time flows, the divine energies change. The aspect of God that was ripe for connection (recall that the Hebrew word for sacrifice, korban, literally means “connector”) on the 14th of Nisan is not necessarily available a month later. So how can a paschal offering be made at that time? The Zohar offers the following explanation:
Once Knesset Yisrael is adorned with her crown in the month of Nisan, she is not deprived of her crown and her adornments for 30 days. For 30 days following the day the people of Israel ended Passover, the queen sits bedecked in royalty, and her forces all celebrate. Whoever wants to see the queen (during this time) may see the queen.
Zohar 3:152b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
Knesset Yisrael, literally the Community of Israel, is one of the symbols the Zohar uses to identify the tenth sefira, a cluster of symbols that also includes Earth, Moon, Night, the divine presence in the world, the divine feminine, the divine bride, the divine kingdom, Shekhinah, the queen and many more. It is this aspect of divinity that is accessible to us and which we celebrate on the 14th of Nisan. The Zohar imagines that during the week of Passover, the queen is adorned in her crown and invites her subjects into her presence, a notion that takes inspiration from Exodus 34:23, which employs regal reception imagery: “Three times a year all your males shall appear in the presence of the master, YHVH, the God of Israel.”
In his commentary Nitzotzei Zohar, Rabbi Reuben Margolies points out that the Zohar’s image of Passover as the crowning of a queen (and, as we’ll see in a moment, adorning of a bride) draws on earlier rabbinic sources. The Talmud states that a bride can continue wearing her wedding finery for a month following her wedding, even if a period of mourning occurs during that time. Her right to wear this finery for a full month overrides the usual mourning practices (Ketubot 4a). In a post-talmudic responsum attributed to Rav Hai Gaon (Sha’arei Teshuva, 336) this teaching is evoked to justify the practice of making a Second Passover. In other words, the Zohar is adapting both the image of Passover as a royal audience with God and the later image of Passover as a wedding day.
For our purposes, the important element the Zohar takes from Rav Hai’s responsum is that the bride’s celebration is not limited to the wedding itself. Passover may be akin to the week-long wedding festivities, but the talmudic source teaches us that the bride’s celebration continues for an entire month. This means that Pesach Sheni is the culmination of that special time, the last chance for the divine bride-queen to receive well-wishers.
A herald announces: “Anyone who was not able to see the queen should come and see her before the gates are locked!” When does the herald make this announcement? On the 14th day of the second month, when the gates are still open for seven days. After that, the gates will be locked. This is the meaning of the Second Passover.
Zohar 3:152b
Explore the passage on Sefaria.
For the Zohar, holy time is not a sequence of specific days scattered throughout a non-holy year. It is rather an ebb and flow of different opportunities to connect to aspects of the divine, peaking in the times we identify as holidays, but present below the surface both as a buildup to the holiday (discussed elsewhere) and as an afterglow. The heavenly herald calling people to the Second Passover is not announcing a new holiday. She instead reminds us that even 30 days out, we are still within the flow of divine opportunity, even as it fades into something new.
From Yerusha
Waking up to the Wonder of Hod
Part five of our Omer series: The Flour and the Wisdom
RABBI VICTOR GROSS
Each sefirah has multiple meanings and end goals. Based on my understanding of Kabbalah, Hod is connected to the sensation of the sensate world. Hod is also connected to the awe, wonder and amazement of that sensation of the world. It is the very energy of perception of that world; much more than received external data.
Let me unpack this. My teacher, A.J. Heschel (with whom I had the great merit to study at the Jewish Theological Seminary) defined awe, wonder, and radical amazement as the foundational, non-rational spiritual experience of perceiving the divine in existence. He noted that as civilization advances, the essential sense of wonder declines, making intentional radical amazement—a state of being constantly surprised and delighted by reality—necessary to avoid the absence of a meaningful life.
While Heschel never wrote about the sefirot directly, his poetic, mystical language maps beautifully onto Hod. Using his language, I would say Hod is the “prerequisite of an awareness of that which is.” Hod allows for the sense of transcendence and an “intuition for the creaturely dignity of all things.” Hod is that way of perceiving “intimations of the divine.” That’s what I perceive when I look at the awesome Rocky Mountains out my back window or from the photos Reb Nadya takes of the fire of the rising sun on her early morning walks. It is what I sense with the reds and pinks of the sun setting behind the Rockies at the end of the day.
photo credit: Nadya Gross
Heschel argues that “wonder, rather than doubt, is the root of knowledge.” All these sensations and perceptions are the result of what I call Hod-ing.
Being in Hod is a state of being where one refuses to take anything for granted and recognizes the awesomeness of existence. Hod informs us that these experiences, perceptions and sensations are not just emotions but are foundational to a life of spirit.
A personal example: Prior to the birth of our four children, Nadya and I took birthing classes. We received a lot of knowledge about the process. But the birth of each child was truly the experience of awe and wonder beyond the world of knowledge.
To appreciate how central Hod is to a life of meaning, Heschel said “I did not ask for success; I asked for wonder.” He believed that while humankind might not perish from a lack of information, it could perish from a “want of appreciation” for the “grandeur of being.”
The world presents itself in two ways to us. The world is both a thing I am a part of, and a mystery I face. What I face is sublime. Hod reminds me not to miss what I face, what I sense and what I perceive. We need to take it in to expand our being.
There is an ethic flowing from Hod. It is a sense of the dignity of Creation. All of Creation is endowed with significance. Hod is there on the Tree of Life to remind us that what we cannot comprehend solely by analysis, we become aware of through awe. What we acquire by our senses and what holds us in awe and amazement is part and parcel of Creation. We are the beneficiaries of this gift. We have a responsibility, therefore, to preserve and protect that continued possibility and availability of the awesomeness of Creation. If it is true that God awaits humanity to show up, as Heschel asserts, then what other alternative do we have? To not acknowledge our responsibility would be a great offense to the Creator.
That is why we can say: Hodu l’Hod: Give thanks to Hod and through Hod.
Heschel quotes drawn from God in Search of Man and ‘Radical Amazement’ (available here).
Etz Chayyim
Aryae’s Omer Counter of Haikus and Photos
From Hadar
Rabbi Elazar Symon
Rebuilding from the Holy of Holies
Yom HaShoah 5786
https://mechonhadar.s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/SymonYomHaShoah5786.pdf
From Herb Levy
Yom HaZikaron
Together Israeli and Palestinian,
we plant a new seedling.
Our tears of grief water
that young olive tree
that slowly grows
with fruit that takes generations to form.
Fragile,
it can be destroyed
by those who fail to observe the Torah commandment
to not destroy an olive tree
even during war.
Together Israeli and Palestinian,
we plant a new seedling of peace.
From Herb Levy
Yom HaAtzmaut
The year my parents joined,
you became Haven
in a world that halved us,
the promise of home that kept us
who we became
as we wandered.
My father, Jewish by birth,
my mother by blessed observance,
proved that love links
secular and religious.
You could learn a lot from them.
From Yerusha
D’vorah Grenn PhD
Embodying Shekhinah/Malkhut: Reflections on Divine Presence
Shekinah is She Who Dwells Within,
The force that binds and patterns creation.
…She is Mistress of the Seas, Tree of Life,
Silvery Moon, Fiery Sun.
All these are Her names.
She is gravity, magnetic field,
the paradox of waves and particles.
Shekinah is unseen dark, invisible web,
Creatrix of complex systems,
expanding, contracting, spiraling, meandering,
The beginning of Wisdom.
…We live here, in Her body.
She feeds multitudes from Her flesh…
Shekinah is the catalyst of our passion,
Our inner Spiritfire, our knowledge of self-worth,
Our call to authenticity…
Womb and Grave, End and Beginning.
All these are Her names.
—Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb, 1995
In Shekhinah/Malkhut, She Who Dwells Within, it all comes together. The counting of the Omer, the Jewish mystical practice many do between Passover and Shavuot, will conclude when we observe “Shekhinah/Malkhut sh’b’Shekhinah/Malkhut.” This year, my own work with the Tree of Life has become even more visceral, as I see the Divine/human attributes of each sefirah merge and dance, coming fully to life not just in spirit, mind and body but in my actions in the physical realm, Assiyah.
Shekhinah/Malkhut is in a sense the most alive of all the Divine energies for me in that it is She to whom I pray most of the time. Of course I work with the qualities embodied by all the sefirot in a variety of ways, in my daily life and my teaching on the Tree of Life, when practicing or teaching the counting of the Omer, the mystical practice many do between Passover and Shavuot. The sefirotic qualities, ranging from compassion and understanding to humility and discernment, are alive in my relationships with others and under a microscope when I am assessing whether my expression of the Tree’s attributes are in or out of alignment with my own values at any given moment.
As I began writing this piece my thoughts went to Shekhinah more than usual. And after one of my morning meditations, these words came through:
Her Presence is thus:
She is with us in every moment,
She is God as Mother, God as Protector, a major deity whom we cannot fully define but whose presence we feel.
If it is really She who was at the center of the burning bush, the cloud in the Mishkan, the energy essence we imagine in the Chariot, then She had and has more power and influence than most of us ever realized. She is not just an aspect of a male divinity, She is Source! I think some of the rabbis knew this; after all, it was they who first referred to Shekhinah as having female traits in the Talmud, a characterization developed further in the Zohar and other Jewish mystical literature. She was, unfortunately, a secret well-kept from me and most others of my generation.
As the Presence guiding Moses and the Israelites through the desert, She was always there. Yet we speak of Her as a spirit who went into and, many believe is still in, exile. If that is so, I don’t believe that She will return “when the Messiah comes” but when all genders are on equal footing, when there is justice and our world is not so dysregulated, but more in alignment with G’d’s intent.
But it is hard for me to think of Her in exile; most of the time I feel Her presence close. As a compassionate, wise and empathetic teacher, She is One who guides us, urges us on, gives us hints when we lose our way. If we’re oblivious to these messages because we are too overwhelmed or too self-centered to hear them, She lights a fire under us so that we’ll pay attention. She is the mafteyach ha-lev, the fire beneath our heart, the “pilot light” as Reb Nadya calls it that fuels our lifeforce and the sixth sense that tells us when something is right or wrong, that reminds us to be of service, to do our small but essential part in healing the world.
To flesh out our understanding of Shekhinah’s qualities further, She is in-dwelling Presence, our sense of sovereignty, manifestation, leadership, authority, majesty. In Counting the Omer Rabbi Min Kantrowitz writes, “The Zohar refers to the sephira of Malchut/Shechina as the “mouth of God”. This sephira…accepts everything, [is] a sacred container that holds all that has been received, nurtures it and passes it on.” She also writes, as I think my mother Rita Kolb Grenn believed, “The more we receive, the more we have available to give. The more we give, the more space we have available in our hearts to receive.” And She is “the sephira of God’s closeness, immanence, reminding us that divine energy permeates everything.”
If Shekhinah/Malkhut represents agency and self-authorization, what does that mean for each of us? What are we meant to manifest in this physical, material world?
How do our personalities, our own essences and in turn our actions affect others over the course of our lives? How does what we do make a difference in the world, and can we change our effect through being more self-aware and intentional?
Does it make a difference if we check in with Shekhinah/Malkhut daily? Weekly? I recently spoke to students about a Mincha practice I once created of simply stopping in the late afternoon to light a candle, to breathe, to mark the time and think about the day’s accomplishments and challenges. It was a time to acknowledge the Source of Life. And sometimes it was enough to simply stop what I was doing and to suspend linear thinking for a moment, to feel my body, to acknowledge my place in the world. Out of these moments a prayer or blessing that needed saying was frequently breathed.
If I only stood at my altar for one or two minutes, it often was enough to center me, to ground me – and if I could feel that happen, I would tend to stay longer before going on with my work, my play, my life. And I came to realize that whether I then went on to take care of my household, to finish a project, to spend time with my partner or oommune with my beloved feline beings, I did it better, with more presence, calm and appreciation. What more valuable contribution can we make to our own lives, to our relationships, to the collective energy field? Is this not embodying Shekhinah/Malkhut?
Such moments can help us to know ourselves better and so offer more to others. The energy we radiate when we pay closer attention to our relationships, especially honoring our ancestral connections can open a channel through which the presence of Shekhinah/Malkhut can manifest more strongly in this realm as a positive force felt by all. This may be one way to address the question posed by Rabbi Yael Levy in Journey Through the Wilderness. Seeing this final week of Omer counting as a time of integration, she writes: “We ask ourselves: How can I best be of service?”…
…We wove a cocoon of hope, of joy in our own presence as many lights were shone on women’s unacknowledged accomplishments, women’s theo/thealogies, revealing so much of our story through 5,000+ years that many in the audience did not know about. Seeing a visible change in women’s spirits, the light in their faces from learning about their own history, and other activities which lead to transformation are part of my raison d’etre, an organizing principle that dictates the ways I choose to serve.
She who dwells within acts at times as our moral-spiritual-emotional compass, a North Star reminding us to be of service, and often providing direction as to the best ways to do that. How do we each define service? For me, it means helping someone who is sick or in need of something material, of course, but it also means being there when someone needs us, even if it’s inconvenient or we don’t think we’re the right person to help or advise them. It means bearing witness, even if that feels difficult because it means being silent and fully present when someone shares a problem we don’t have an answer for. No doubt we each have our own conception of what we call “service” but in every case I think it means to do something selfless for another person or an entire community because it will benefit them.
As a portal bringing spiritual lessons into the earthly realm, Shekhinah/Malkhut can teach us how to embody all the emanations of holiness found on the Tree. This Ruach Ha-Kodesh can help us balance all the Divine/human qualities we embody, helping us to lead the richest lives possible, fulfilling our potential and in turn being able to be of greater service to self and others. We need to remember that our presence adds value to the world, even when we think we’re too small for our efforts to matter, when we bring our best selves to everything we do, every relationship and every interaction we have.
In closing but not conclusion since Spirit is immeasurable and never ending, I will say that Shekhinah/Malkhut for me is alive in every leaf on every tree I walk by, pray to, talk to or bless; in the honeybees extracting food from our rosemary berms while there are still flowers to feed them. She is the energy emanating from our feathered and four-legged friends, from oceans and rivers, vibrating throughout all of Nature.
She is alive in the air I breathe as I walk after my morning espresso (where She is certainly also most alive!). And of course, She is that spark of Divinity that is alive when we are in conversation with another.
She is the hope that gets me up in the morning, the spirit of Modah Ani with which I start my day, the rush of adrenaline, excitement, passion when I’m writing, dancing, singing or holding a beloved.
She is the spirit-ruach-lifeforce underlying everything I do, even when I forget to thank Her for being there or can’t feel anything but darkness.
And She is our reminder to use our gifts in service to those who need them, quietly and without asking for thanks or credit. For without those expressions of lovingkindness, compassion and empathy that push us to want others’ lives as well as our own to be better, what is our purpose?
Shekhinah/Malkhut is a reflection of us as we are of Her. She is a prime example of how we can hold opposites, embodying both compassion and anger, joy and pain, empathy and forgiveness, generosity and restraint. I pray that I may do these things well.
May Shekhinah’s qualities always inspire us, as we seek to speak and act in ways that the Divine must have hoped for when S/he created us.
From Yerusha
Building Foundations: Reflections on Yesod in the Omer Journey
This is the sixth of seven posts, inviting us to journey through the attributes on the Tree of Life as we count the Omer—Seven full weeks, 49 days
JOAN G. KAUFMAN
∙
We are preparing to begin the sixth week of counting the Omer—the week of Yesod. Yesod is considered the foundation upon which the world is built, both physically and spiritually. It invites us to reflect on our commitments and our ability to integrate previously learned qualities—lovingkindness, discipline, compassion, endurance and humility—into tangible actions and behaviors.
Yesod is also defined as truth or integrity. In this context it challenges us to take a long hard look at what we are committing to—and whether we are prepared to act with full integrity. This is when we try to focus on our commitment to see resolutions through, even in the face of our real and imagined doubts or challenges.
Yesod is associated with creativity, generativity, and the ability to bring ideas and visions into reality. It emphasizes the importance of self-definition and prompts us to reflect on acting with integrity. Another important aspect of Yesod is bonding—the power to connect, with oneself, with others, and with one’s spiritual beliefs.
From the teachings of Aish:
“Bonding is the foundation of life, the emotional spine of the human psyche. Every person needs bonding to flourish and grow…. It establishes trust ― trust in yourself and trust in others. It instills confidence. Without bonding and nurturing we cannot realize and be ourselves.”
We bond with our partners, siblings and other relatives, our friends, our pets—and even imaginary friends. Hopefully we also form a loving, trusting bond with ourselves.
It is not unusual for those we bond with to challenge us. They test our patience. Sometimes they do things that we feel aren’t in their own best interests. Most often it is wisest if we can let them proceed as they wish. Perhaps that means they will make mistakes, but they are making their own mistakes, and they will learn from them. It is difficult for us to sit by and watch, anticipating negative consequences. When we bond with other people — especially our children or friends — we often see them as an extension of ourselves. We have to remember that they are their own people and that despite the bonding, we have to give them space and keep a respectful distance so that they may experience life on their own terms—mistakes and all.
This is also a reminder of how important it is for us to go easy on ourselves when we make mistakes, whether silly or consequential. We should be mindful of how we react to our mistakes. We can make amends if needed and we can correct our behavior for the next time.
Whenever I want to know something more about Jewish teachings and practices, I consult the teachings of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks and Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, both of blessed memory. Here’s what they had to say about Yesod.
Rabbi Sacks viewed the week of Yesod as a time for building a strong base for growth and stability. He emphasized the importance of bonding and nurturing in relationships, as essential for personal and communal development. He saw this week as a time to reflect on the foundations of life, both individual and societal. He linked this to the concept of building a strong emotional and relational foundation. Rabbi Sacks often discussed the interconnectedness of Chesed (lovingkindness) and Yesod (foundation). He suggested that lovingkindness builds strong foundations and that a strong foundation allows for greater compassion and lovingkindness to flourish.
Rabbi Sacks encouraged individuals to examine their character and refine their attributes during the Omer period. He believed that by emulating Divine attributes, like Yesod, we can enhance our own spiritual nature.
Rebbe Nachman of Breslov taught that the Omer is a journey of spiritual transformation and self-improvement, emphasizing the importance of using this period to prepare for receiving Torah on Shavuot. He emphasized that Yesod is the foundation upon which all of our spiritual and material endeavors are built, and that it represents our moral foundation. If our morals are upright, we can build a strong and lasting life. He connected Yesod with the Tzaddik, the righteous one, who embodies the highest levels of moral purity. The Tzaddik uses the energy of Yesod to elevate himself beyond material desires and bring joy to God. Reb Nachman encouraged us to embrace the challenges and difficulties of life, seeing them as opportunities for growth and self-improvement.
The Omer count serves as a period of introspection and spiritual preparation, allowing individuals to connect with their inner selves and prepare for Shavuot. The journey from slavery to freedom, symbolized by the 49-day Omer journey, underscores the need to prepare for the gift of Torah received on Shavuot.
During this week of Yesod, let’s all think about what foundations and connections hold us, and who we can turn to for whatever needs we may have. Then turn that around and consider who relies upon you. Take this opportunity to really look at our foundations, our bonds with one another, our community. Have we neglected any important relationships? Has anything come up in a relationship that needs attention or repair? Are you feeling strength and comfort in your bonds or is anything missing? Are you nurturing yourself sufficiently? Let’s put this week of Yesod to good use as we focus on these questions and plan any actions we may need to take to create the proper balance each of us needs.
From Rabbi Yael Levy
A Way In Jewish Mindfulness: Hod – Presence, Glory, Gratitude
Hod calls,
Be present,
Be patient,
Be still.
Sit and be with what is.
Even as the mind races,
Even as thoughts arise
Demanding that things be different.
Be with what is.
Take a receptive posture,
Wait. See. Notice.
Awareness brings its own transformation.
And when the present moment
Is filled with anguish,
When the heart weeps,
And the soul quakes,
Hod offers refuge
And the solace of sacred companionship.
Hiney makom iti, the Infinite Presence calls. Shemot 33:21
I am here with you in this place.
I am here with you in this moment.
I am right by your side.
Wherever you are there I am.
There is always a place for you with me.
Blessed are those who know that in each moment
They dwell at home in the Divine
Their very being offers praise, Selah
Psalm 84:5
From Chabad.org:
Pesach Sheini
Rabbi Yanki Tauber
What do we mean when we talk about a “second chance?” Is it the ability to step into a capsule, be transported to a previous point in time, jostle aside our previous, misguided self, and do it the right way this time? But if that’s all there’s to it, what has been gained? We could just as well have done it right the first time!
The Torah’s idea of teshuvah (“return”) is not just the undoing or correcting of a past error. Rather, teshuvah is about transforming the past. It means reaching back to change the significance and the consequences of what happened, so that the end result is better than what would have been had it not occurred.
From Rabbi Nadya Gross
Netzach: Endurance, Eternity and the Power of Presence
The journey through the Omer, thus far, has mirrored a glorious dance performance. We began in the forward-facing flow of Chesed, unstructured and uninhibited; the first dancer jumping and twirling with abandon. That one was caught in the arms of Gevurah as the second week unfolded, contained and given form, held to the limits of the stage. And this past week we experienced the harmony of the two dancers as they found their balance and moved together gracefully in Tiferet.
As we enter the fourth week of the Omer, the two dancers separate again, and we find ourselves in the flow of Netzach.
The Power of Netzach
Netzach literally means perpetuity, everlastingness. When encountering Netzach, I often recall a conversation with Reb Zalman where I was expressing judgment about the practice of naming spaces and whole buildings after the donor— wondering aloud if they would give as much if they weren’t rewarded in that way. Reb Zalman looked at me with such loving concern and asked: “Why would you want to inhibit their Netzach energy?” I was chastened by that. Don’t we all, at one time or another, imagine living on in perpetuity? Authors, artists, civic and spiritual leaders—and you can add so many other roles to this list—all are motivated by Netzach.
This week we test the limits of our endurance as our passions call us forward. Do we have the strength to follow through? Can we overcome the obstacles in our way and accomplish what we set out to do? This is Netzach at its best, leading the way and leaving an imprint on the world.
When I am in my leadership role, I am calling on all the Netzach I can muster. The best expression of this sefirah will be able to inspire and motivate others to accomplish the tasks at hand. This is a relational energy, though it is also that which awakens the life-force within and fuels the constant doing, striving, accomplishing on my journey through life.
Netzach’s Shadow
Like Chesed, its parent, sitting above it on the Tree of Life, Netzach can run amok. It, too, is uninhibited flow and can become a brutal force. Think of those all-nighters we’ve pulled to complete a task; how often did we acknowledge the risks to our health or even to the quality of the work we would produce? Likewise, when our goal is to win – another quality of Netzach – are we considering all the costs?
I simply cannot make this statement, and not reflect on what we see happening in this country and other parts of the world right now. We are witnessing Netzach out of control. The ego-driven brutality is beyond belief, and yet true. Every day I long for the mitigating energy of Hod, which we’ll hear about next week, and the balancing energy of Yesod, completing the lower triangle on the Tree. Just as Gevurah and Tiferet are in relationship with Chesed, keeping it balanced and healthy, so too, Netzach requires its relational attributes for the sake of the future of this world.
The Nature of Eternity
As we arrive at this sefirah, I find myself wondering about the nature of eternity. The forever-ness of Netzach points us to eternity. What is that? Is it a quality we can apprehend? In our lives, limited by time, what does eternity suggest? (Would that our leaders would have an interest in eternity and not just their present hunger for power and control!)
My Savta (grandmother) taught me that the present moment is an eternity. Each moment contains all that came before and all the potential of what is yet to be. Be Here Now, a popular book by Ram Dass in my generation, launched the mindfulness revolution. We were taught to peel away at the layers of the material world, to discover our true essence or soul; and that part of us, we were told, lives on in perpetuity, it is everlasting.
Anyone who calls my phone when I’m not available, hears me invite them to “have a beautiful now”. So many have left a message wondering if their now already passed them by, as they listened to my voice. I have heard many variations on ‘now’ and ‘then’, and each time I’m amused. Because the whole point of eternity is that it’s not a game of semantics, it’s an invitation to simple Presence.
Netzach in Practice
In this week of Netzach I invite us all to practice being fully present to a moment. While on the road to accomplishing a task, completing a project, winning the game, let’s stop to smell the roses. Let’s bring all of our attention and focus—all our senses—to the beauty of the natural world. Make a commitment to notice something beautiful or surprising in your world, at least once a day, and stop … be fully present to the experience. Then remember that moment and find the quality of eternity that was present as you entered into the fullness of it.
Then apply that same practice to your encounters with other humans. Let yourself witness the future unfolding with the imprint of your words, thoughts and actions. Then go and demand that of the powerful people in our world.
This, too, is Netzach.
From Rabbi David Curiel
Tiferet’s Heart Light
Our third week of counting brings us into the realm of Tiferet. Often translated as Splendor, Tiferet sits at the center of the Tree of Life, roughly mapping to the heart chakra. The secret of understanding Tiferet and all the sephirot, I’ve found, is to soften the gaze, release the “knowing” mind and allow the multiplicity of layers and paradox to ease their way into your being. Tiferet wants to be known inside, like that beauty that happens with your eyes closed. Give it a try.
Tiferet is balance like a cycle of tides—not static, but allowing flow to flow, holding the possibility of storm surge as easily as it does dead calm. It’s the place where our all-too-human clay feet meet—and are inspired by—the indelible spark of divinity with which we are endowed at birth. If it can be said that that spark has a seat in our bodies, Tiferet, the heart center, would be it. Somatically, it’s where I most easily feel divine qualities, such as love, compassion, inspiration and creativity. Archetypally, architecturally—in the Tree of Life’s scheme—it balances Chesed and Gevurah, but it would be a mistake to relegate it to the status of scale or arbiter between the two. It is, rather, a state of consciousness that transcends and includes those two seeming opposites, as in Rumi’s field.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
-Rumi
The Lower Unity
Beyond that, even, Tiferet is the drawing together of all the lower sephirotic energies that we’re counting. It is the point that lengthens to a line when, having grasped all the four surrounding sephirot, connects them to Yesod below, in the central column. This combined energy elongates into manifestation; the gathering of potential as it trips into the kinetic. I picture Tiferet as the magnificently grand train hall of all the Tree’s energies: containing the flow of multitudes in its shining ever-present essence. Glory in and of itself, Tiferet is at once way-station and destination. Destiny.
Tiferet is the apex of internality as it prepares to manifest into to the external world. And also the moment to pause in the deliciousness of it all, the beauty of it all, in a refraction of its conduit from Chesed’s effulgence to Hod’s serene surrender.
Tiferet also transmutes Gevurah’s containment strength into the strong driving action of Netzach. And also opens a direct line into the upper triad of Keter, Chochmah and Binah—whispered at, here in our counting—drawing down their rarified light into enough substance to grasp them in a more corporeal heart-knowing.
I’m integrating a powerful ceremony, reflecting on the pain in my heart as I experience the love I have for my daughter—a tightness that doesn’t fully fit in the cavity of my chest. As I re-experience that sensation, I let the lobes of my heart unfold, taking up more space in my body and my immediate surroundings. In doing so, the pain and constriction release into a fuller expression and sensation of love.
In Lurianic creation mythos, the sephirot shattered because they couldn’t contain Divine Light as it made its way into the denser realities of our dual, I-It world. We learn from that story that the tikkun/correction for this paradigm of individualism is the connection of each with each and all with all. I-Thou. Tiferet represents that possibility for correction and connection. In a somatic retelling of that mythopoetry, our heartspace is a necessary but not sufficient condition for healing and wholeness. The heart can’t do it alone, it needs to be in touch with the other five directions (Chesed, Gevurah, Netzach, Hod and Yesod) to be whole enough to reunite with Malchut/Shechina.
Just like the anatomical heart is connected to every little blood vessel in our bodies, so is Tiferet the pulse generator that connects and purifies our energy. And, just as the continuous beating of the anatomical heart is a bit mysterious in its perpetuity, so is Tiferet that spark of mystery inside us, with us as long as the heart beats in our chests.
The Universal Heart
Once again in sacred medicine space, I start to pick a the brittle dried vines encircling my lower spine and realize, “that will never do.” So I bring them into my heart, which in turn becomes a mikveh/ritual purification bath. I find I can bring anything—old family dynamics, personal grievances—into it, and they are cleansed of their poison. Getting curious, I try bringing the Orange One into my heart. I find he is too big for my pool, but at that moment, my heart connects with the Universal Heart, all one, and there is space for even him there, too. Mikveh Yisroel Hashem!
The name of G-d most often associated with Tiferet is Y-H-V-H. By the transitive property of Torah P’nimi/Inner Teachings, therefore, Tiferet is the mikveh/purifying pool of Yisrael/the G-dwrestler, as our prophet Jeremiah says.¹ It holds space for the suffering of all beings, human and more than human, transcending sect by intersecting with the Heart of the Buddha, the Christ and Krishna. It is known, simply, as Compassion.
Tiferet’s Blessing
As all of these images and ideas swirl in your mind, I invite you to breathe deeply and let go of any “trying” to make sense. Feel your breath as it passes through your chest into your belly. Feel—or imagine you can feel—your heartspace softening and opening. Feel—or imagine you can feel—your heart unfolding and connecting with all of your body. This tender impermanent vessel, short enough on this earth, houses your unique expression of Tiferet in it. While it’s there, may you be blessed to live in and through its multifaceted light and may that light shine through you. In doing so, may you find the heart to connect and be compassionate as a radical tikkun/restorative response to the shattering that surrounds us.
From Herb Levy
Yom HaShoah
I woke to a room lit by a small white candle
whose flame seeks to honor the memories of too many to count.
The woman who lit the candle
is the daughter of two who survived
what millions did not;
two who lost their first families
and survived laboring in Siberia;
two, who scarred beyond any understanding
with hurts I can’t begin to name
built a new family
and passed along
the Iron Will to Thrive;
no matter what the challenge,
no matter what resource is available,
no matter what.
From Rabbi Yael Levy
From the expanse of Chesed
We enter the week of Gevurah
Which illuminates boundaries, limitations,
Distinction.
Gevurah turns us toward mystery
And reminds us there is so much we will never know.
Bow in humility, Gevurah calls,
And remember that humans
Are not the center of this mysterious universe.
And although our actions have impact
We are not ultimately in control.
Gevurah teaches that with humility comes strength.
The strength to listen
And wait for discernment to rise.
The strength to make distinctions and create boundaries
So the sacred will flourish and grow.
The strength to be faithful to spiritual practice.
Gevurah urges us to take the stance of a spiritual warrior:
To call on the Infinite Mystery,
And open to its presence and power.
A prayer as we enter the week of Gevurah:
Please, help us abide in the face of uncertainty.
Infuse us with devotion, discipline and courage.
Lift us up again and again.
Let us join with the Infinite Mystery
And be forces for healing, justice, compassion and peace.
Meditation for Week of Gevurah
Receiving Strength from the Infinite Mystery
shiviti havayah l’negdi tamid
I place the Infinite Presence before me always.
Psalm 16:8
Taking our seats, we rest the attention on the breath and after a few minutes begin to recite the verse:
shiviti havayah l’negdi tamid
I place the Infinite Presence before me always
Gently, we repeat the verse over and over, letting it travel with the breath.
Engaging the imagination, we place the verse before our eyes and upon our hearts and notice the sensations in the body as we repeat the verse over and over again.
When we notice the attention has wandered, we return to the breath and the movement and vibration of the verse moving through the body.
We close the sit by giving thanks for the mysteries of life.
Questions for Reflection
What happens in my mind and body when I face uncertainty?
What boundaries/limits can I set that will support spiritual practice, discernment, stability?
What gives me strength?
What inspires the experience of awe?
From Meira Gale
We begin counting the Omer, a period of seven weeks, on the second night of Passover. This year, that will be Sunday, April 13. In Kabbalistic counting, we do not simply count the days—we also move our awareness through The Kabbalistic Tree of Life. As you will see, the Tree of Life is not just a diagram; it represents our inner world and serves as a map of the divine image in which we are created.
The Tree of Life
The Tree of Life consists of three triangles, each with three sefirot (plural)—one at each corner—and a tenth sefira(singular) at the bottom. These are connected by 22 pathways. Sefirot are spheres that denote essential attributes of our whole being. During the Omer, we progress through seven of the ten sefirot—those that relate to our physical and emotional realms—while the top three remain beyond our reach.
What is Chesed, and Why Do We Begin Here?
We begin with the sefira of Chesed. But why here—not at the top or the bottom? Each week, on Sunday night, we progress to a new sefira, working through the middle and lower triangles for 49 days until we reach Shavu’ot. This connects Pesach (Passover and the Exodus from Egypt) with Shavu’ot (the ancient pilgrimage festival of the wheat harvest and the date marking the revelation of the Ten Commandments on Mt. Sinai).
Chesed is more than just an attribute—it is an energy center of our bodies and a grand portal between ourselves and the divine. Chesed means loving-kindness. We begin here because Chesed infuses us with life and the rebirth of spring. It is one of the places where divine flow enters our physical bodies. Love is the entry point.
The Relationships of Chesed
Chesed is located in the middle triangle of the Tree of Life. To fully understand Chesed, we must see it in relation to other sefirot. In our bodies, it is found in the upper right corner of our torsos. Chesed functions best when balanced with Gevurah, which is located in the upper left. Gevurah represents inner strength and discernment. When these two are in harmony, Tiferet—the lower point of the middle triangle—becomes fully activated. Tiferet is balance, harmony, compassion, and beauty. As the center of the Tree, it also aligns with the heart, the source of our energy, love, and healing.
The Flow of Chesed’s Energy
Chesed, as loving-kindness, is an energetic flow—invigorating and enlivening. This sefira serves as a portal through which divine energy enters our physical bodies, moving into Assiyah and Yetzirah, the two lower worlds in Kabbalah, the physical and emotional realms, represented by the middle and lower triangles of the Tree of Life. Chesed is one of the primary channels through which we receive the energy of the Holy One. This is why we begin with Chesed when we count the Omer.
Physically, Chesed is associated with the right shoulder, arm, and upper right quadrant of the chest and back. We must locate this energy center within ourselves and observe its movement. Is the energy flowing smoothly? Is it broad and strong, or sluggish and thin? When we sense how it flows, we can explore its connection with Da’at—the profound knowing that unites the sefirot and connects us to the Holy One. How does Chesed speak to Da’at within you?
Reflecting on these energies within yourself can lead to a clearer understanding of your function, emotions, and how best to serve.
Chesed as a Reflection of the Whole
Chesed exists in you as a divine attribute, an energy center, and a portal. It is also a manifestation of the Tree of Life, which exists in the heavenly realms and is mirrored throughout all creation. We are reflections of this grand design—made in the image of the Tree—and each of us is a part of the great whole, the Oneness of all Being. Your Chesedconnects to the Chesed everywhere. You are part of the whole, intertwined with it. Your life feeds into the whole, and the whole feeds into you.
The Balance of Chesed
Chesed is a portal for receiving, but it is also what we give and bestow. It flows through us, gifting love and grace, which we can offer to ourselves and others. To do this without harm—to others or to ourselves—Chesed must flow clearly, unobstructed, and in balance with Gevurah and Tiferet. A triangle is a stable structure; in its balance, we find strength.
Opening to Chesed as We Begin the Omer
As we begin counting the Omer, we always start with Chesed—the place where love enters. Let us allow Chesed to flow into us, moving freely in all directions, so that we may become bright lights in this world.
From Rabbi Yael Levy
A Way In Jewish Mindfulness: Rooted in Mystery
Let us bow to the Infinite Presence
As we step into the week of Yesod:
Foundation, connection,
The rooted strength of Unfathomable Mystery,
The very ground beneath our feet.
Yesod brings generative fires of earth,
Deep replenishing wells,
Vast root systems woven
Connecting us all.
As we stand on and with these forces
Let us call on the ancient ones,
Trees, animals and creatures
Who have been here for thousands of years,
Guide us please,
We humans are so very young
And need help learning how to live in harmony.
Teach us how to walk with reverence and care,
Show us how to tend the ground
So through our lives
Healing, justice, compassion, understanding and peace
Take root and grow.
*
May our prayers be rooted,
May they rise like incense,
May the offerings of our hands be received as a gift.
Psalm 141:2
–Rabbi Yael Levy
From Hadar
Rabbi Avi Strausberg
From Wave to Wave to Wave
Lag B’Omer 5784
https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/Strausberg33Omer5784.pdf
From Yerusha
Netzach: An Alchemical Reframing
Me’ira Gale
We think of Netzach as victory, legacy, and persistence. It connotes leaving an impact, creating a change, or prevailing over a situation. Netzach contains the sense of working for something with determination. The function for many of us includes fighting, struggling, and striving. Is that what we want it to be? Being at the right hip it invites us to put the strong leg forward and march into service.
When we are facing obstacles and battles in our lives we call on Netzach. When those of us who have career and business challenges, serious or chronic health issues, family and relationship dilemmas, battles for justice and safety or any situation which requires effort to overcome, we call on Netzach energy, and we do battle. And who does not have some of these things? They are ever present in real life in this physical realm, in the 3D reality.
In this kind of Netzach work, we engage our nervous system in the sympathetic response of fight, flight, or freeze. We often find ourselves in long-term high alert mode. This chronic response can be damaging to our mental and physical health. Moreover, it may not be the optimal course of action for the situation because it is based on our knowledge at the time, which may well be limited.
Netzach As Part of a Pair
One of the magical aspects of the Tree of Life that Kabbalah has given us is the paired sefirot. The pairs of Netzach and Hod, Chesed and Gevurah, and Hochmah and Binah are couples, partners in a relationship. They invite us to create balance and to constantly check the seesaw to see if there is equal expression of both energies. These energies are reciprocal. Some flow and some contain. Sometimes they are expansive and other times they contract. Like healthy partners, like our eyes and ears, they must coordinate and work together.
Netzach’s partner is Hod, which means both splendor and humility. While Netzach moves with force and power, Hod holds in an ever-expanding container and ensures that Netzach energy does not overflow. If Netzach is marching, then Hod is skipping, lifting us with lightness and joy in physical pursuits.
If we have been relying on Netzach too much, for too long, Hod becomes diminished. We lose out on the creation of physical beauty and gloriousness. We lose a sense of gratitude for the practical world. We are out of harmony and out of balance in doing, in the world of action. We forget what our nature is and do not recognize if our self is too small or too large. We become lost in our focus on the battle. The sense of being a single wildflower in a massive community of a riotously colorful field vanishes and what we experience is struggle. We are left with only our personal will and our willfulness to create what we wish for.
The Alchemy in Action
I suggest that we call upon Hod to reframe how we perceive Netzach and how we manifest Netzach energies. I suggest that there is another way to overcome problems, win fights, create a change, or leave a legacy. There is another way to make a difference.
Let’s engage in the alchemy of mixing Hod and Netzach. By bringing in gratitude, rather than fighting, we engage with life cooperatively. By bringing in humility, rather than forcing our will, we call upon the will of the Divine. By bringing in beauty and ease, rather than focusing on trouble, battle, and strife, we see the greater possibilities for bettering our lives.
This brings us to the new way to look at Netzach. Let’s approach Netzach from ease and effortlessness. Let’s move away from our will, our physical effort, and our mental forcefulness. How is it possible to have Netzachwithout these things? We must turn the wheel slightly to redirect our gaze and see this energy center from another angle. What if the power to overcome is not our power? What if the will to succeed is not our will? What if the strength to deal with difficulties is not our strength?
If we open ourselves to divine power then G!d does the work, and we achieve effortlessness. To grasp this possibility, we must be willing. We receive grace, and we let go of striving. We activate our parasympathetic response; we rest and relax in the embrace of Shekhina. When we trust, we move into 5D reality, into cosmic consciousness.
This is the process: we find harmony and gratitude in this moment, and then we offer up our problem and let go of our will. Then we are able to open ourselves to the grace that comes to us and flows through us. This divine energy flows through us in Chesed as loving kindness. This divine energy also flows through us in Netzach as the power to create good. The course correction prevails with ease and without our striving. The path is made for us. The target is redefined for us. We collaborate in the work. Our task becomes focused and cooperative. We are co-creators. We do not do it alone. We do not struggle. We move forward deliberately with ease and grace. The divine force of Netzach and the sacred harmony of Hod weave together in us and direct our action.
And How We Work It
For example, let’s say we have a recurring and increasing problem such as a pain in our belly we do not know the cause of. We worry. We imagine. We dive into Dr. Google. We wonder if we can find help. We try to worry our way to healing. Our attention gets pulled towards this problem. Our stress level rises. We are struggling.
Alternatively, we might move into gratitude and harmony. We are grateful for the information that something is amiss. When we sit in prayer, in meditation, in the company of friends, or when we create in our kitchens, our art forms, our relationships we feel the joy and harmony present in our lives. We shift our focus to the positive, the good. We then call upon the divine in the way of our choice such as music, liturgy, personal prayer, or by directly calling on Shekhina, ancestors, angels, or guides. We open to the love and support that is available to us. In time, something calls our attention, some sign or word arises. We are guided and without struggle we know the course of action to take.
Our work is to create the conditions for receiving, to be aware of what we receive and to act on what we receive. This is the co-creation that eliminates struggle and leads to a new Netzach, overcoming without fighting.
The world of doing becomes rebalanced; creating change is done in beauty and harmony with the greater reality; and we can rest in the embrace of Shekhina.
From Rabbi Yael Levy
We welcome the month of Iyar, which arrives during this week of Tiferet.
Tiferet calls forth
The courage and vulnerability of an open heart.
Beauty that astonishes,
Patterns of harmony,
The magnificent interconnection of all life.
Tiferet also reveals the cracks and brokenness
The pain we experience and cause.
In this wide-open field of Tiferet
Is a well-spring of Rachamim,
Infinite compassion, a flow of fierce, determined love
That holds and guides us,
Helping us be with the truth of all that is
With empathy and care.
During Tiferet
The month of Iyar arrives offering healing
And the great gift of second chances.
When the Israelites crossed the sea
And faced the expanse of the unknown
They grew afraid and despondent.
The Infinite Mystery called,
I am the Life Force, your healer. Ex. 15:26
Iyar is an acronym for this statement and reminds us
That in this life of expanse and uncertainty
We are not alone.
The Infinite Presence is with us,
A force for healing and possibility.
The light of second chances shines through Iyar
Because the full moon of Iyar
Provides the opportunity for something that has been missed.
During Temple times, it was considered essential for a person’s spiritual and material well being that they make a special sacrificial offering for Passover.
If circumstances kept someone from doing this, they were given another opportunity on the fifteenth of Iyar.
Iyar says: Give yourself and others generous second chances.
Allow for “do-overs.”
May Iyar and Tiferet guide us with
Courage, love and forgiveness.
May the beauty and harmony of life lift us.
And may Divine healing, compassion and love
Finds its way through us
Into the world.
-Rabbi Yael Levy
From Hadar
Power and Powerlessness
Yom HaShoah 5784
Rabbi Avi Strausberg
https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/StrausbergYHS5784.pdf
From Yerusha
Dancing With G’vurah
Rabbi Nadya Gross
In this next week of the Omer, beginning Tuesday evening, the flow of Chesed is caught and contained in G’vurah. This attribute on the Tree of Life brings the qualities of strength, judgment, discernment, justice, discipline, boundaries, heroism. G’vurah is heroic in its ability to stand in the face of the resistance that so many of us felt when we first were introduced to the Sefirot.
Who wants to be stopped and held back when blissfully being carried on an ever-flowing stream of love? And yet, life teaches us that an overabundance of anything can become overwhelming and destructive. We need good boundaries. “Good fences make good neighbors” goes the saying. I wouldn’t want to build a fence that hides the beauty on the other side. Just enough to keep my dog from ruining the neighbor’s garden. So, too, the boundaries of G’vurah are flexible and permeable. Just enough to keep Chesed from drowning the object of my loving.
The Dance of Mirroring Opposites
Chesed and G’vurah are mirroring opposites on the Tree. They are engaged in a dance … one giving, the other receiving. Chesed provides the content, while G’vurah defines, clarifies and supports.
In its role as the balancing agent, G’vurah provides the strength to stand in one’s own light and truth. We can know our goodness and not need to seek validation from others. We can accept our shadow elements and love ourselves wholeheartedly, because that is the hero’s nature. Heroes are people who are selfless, generous, giving, and are committed to making others’ lives better and safer. This is how G’vurah makes our Chesed nature visible.
The self-actualized person who has done their own work knows that to be selfless, generous and giving towards others these qualities must first be directed inward, at the Self. The greatest principle in Torah is, “v’ahavta l’re’acha kamocha”, you must love your fellow being as YOURSELF. This teaches us that our love for the other is only as good or true as our love for ourselves. G’vurah says: hold onto that love flowing through you, give yourself the gift of love and kindness, then the love you share will be pure, not needy.
Discernment vs Judgment
This week’s attribute will also bring the power of discernment to us. Not everyone or everything is worthy of our loving attention; not all relationships deserve our greatest efforts. When neediness takes over, when we give without end, we fail to notice how we’ve attracted ‘takers’; we aren’t discerning which relationships are reciprocated and which simply drain us of all our resources. G’vurah helps us notice, and gives us the strength to let go of the unhealthy relationships or find a course correction.
Another name for G’vurah is Din/Judgment. This is precisely where this attribute has gotten its ‘bad rap’. Judgment can be harsh and inflexible. It can also protect us from wrongdoing. Every sefirah exists on a spectrum, from its healed aspect to its unhealed aspect. When judgment becomes brittle and uncompromising, it can break us and our relationships irrevocably. When judgment is tempered with kindness, it gives us the capacity to create healthy boundaries between what is good and what is not good, whether for the moment or for all time. G’vurah is the element that makes one a ‘good judge of character’ – both our own and others’.
The Gift of Discipline
Finally, this is the week that brings discipline to our lives and our spiritual practice. We need this quality to continue the journey through the 49 gates. We often hear how people begin counting the Omer with great enthusiasm and then they fall away. This work of re-creating and refining ourselves requires constant tending. Our nature and patterns of behavior and thought are like a garden that, with disciplined care, will blossom and bear fruit; when we fail to cultivate it, the weeds will simply take over.
We bless you to embrace the discipline of this practice, and bring your full, flowering self to receive your own torah, your own divinely inspired wisdom this year, as we reach the 50th gate.
From Yerusha
Rabbi Nadya Gross
Yesod – The Promise of Perfection
This year I am watching the dance of the sefirot through the Omer counting. As we arrive at the week of Yesod [foundation], the attributes we’ve encountered all come together once again. They are like circle dancers drawing together toward the center of the circle. They form the foundation on which the world, as we know it, is built. Every characteristic of the previous sefirot is now fully engaged in the dance. It becomes a single flowing movement toward manifestation… but that is next week.
First we live in the promise. We experience the process of integration as the architect’s final blueprint comes together. A blueprint is the perfect intention of the one who has imagined and designed the final product. It has not yet gone through the tweaking and sometimes unintended error that happens when it is placed in the hands of the builder.
Yesod as Generativity
In our bodies, Yesod is at the genitals and womb. It is the place of generativity. The Cambridge dictionary defines that word as: “the quality of being able to produce or create something new.” Further, the dictionary suggests this sentence to illustrate the meaning of the word: “The device has no ‘generativity’ – it does not invite or enable users to tinker with it, to improve upon it, to adapt it to their particular needs.”
We might then understand that the perfect blueprint in Yesod is still available for further tinkering. From the perspective of the Creator/God as architect, we see the trust placed in Creation and all of us, to perfect the plan; we are the tinkerers, the ones who will adapt the original idea to our particular needs.
Yesod as Trust
I have always taught that trust is one of the most important qualities in Yesod. Faith, faithfulness, and trust are essential to the healthy expression of Yesod, in physical intimacy as well as in our relationship with all of Creation. We either recognize our interdependence with every aspect of this created world, and hold it sacred, or we use its precious resources for our own needs, heedless of the harm we might be causing.
Yesod is the channel to the real, the last chance for perfection. I want to be present to that possibility this week, even as I know that perfection is simply not real. This week comes with the gift of imagining what might be, or what I wish things could be.
May we take this one week to bear witness to the perfection of our world, to weave in and out with the dancing attributes and feel that we are an essential part of the whole, so that we might be inspired to live more harmoniously with and within this blessed creation.
Yesod Practices
Two practices to try throughout the week:
Take a walk in nature and bless each tree, plant, critter with: “How perfect you are!”
Soften your gaze when sitting in conversation with a friend or loved one; see the light that shines through their eyes and know they are perfect in that moment
Rabbi Nadya Gross, MA
From Hadar
Rabbi Avi Killip
Pesach Sheini
https://mechonhadar.s3.amazonaws.com/mh_torah_source_sheets/KillipPesahSheini5783.pdf?utm_medium=email&_hsmi=256997924&_hsenc=p2ANqtz-_PS2AUgN55vbimLl1v-rAJdKe3bIla7mw-C9mSl9v93WABrs0FbFWGhhw2-y60bhwcNKD7BvBJIbvy-eGchJShH2_VuQ&utm_content=256997924&utm_source=hs_email
From Yerusha
Rabbi Nadya Gross
Netzach is Eternal
First Fruits: Counting The Omer – Netzach
The process of the Omer counting thus far feels like a dance performance. We began in the forward facing flow of Chesed, unstructured and uninhibited; the first dancer jumping and twirling with abandon. That one was caught in the arms of Gevurah as the second week unfolded, contained and given form, held to the limits of the stage. And this past week we experienced the harmony of the two dancers as they found their balance and moved together gracefully in Tiferet.
As we enter the fourth week of the Omer, the two dancers separate again, and we find ourselves in the flow of Netzach.
Netzach as Perpetuity
Netzach literally means perpetuity or everlastingness. I remember a conversation with Reb Zalman, where I expressed my judgment about the practice of naming spaces and whole buildings after donors, wondering aloud if they would give as much if they weren’t rewarded in that way. Reb Zalman looked at me with such loving concern and asked: “why would you want to inhibit their Netzach energy?”
That chastened me. At one time or another, don’t we all imagine living on in perpetuity? Netzach motivates authors, artists, civic and spiritual leaders, and so many other roles.
This week we test the limits of our endurance as our passions call us forward. Do we have the strength to follow through? Can we overcome the obstacles in our way and accomplish what we set out to do? This is Netzach at its best, leading the way and leaving an imprint on the world.
When I am in my leadership role, I am calling on all the Netzach I can muster. The best expression of this sefirah will be able to inspire and motivate others to accomplish the tasks at hand. This is a relational energy, though it is also that which awakens the life-force within and fuels the constant doing, striving, accomplishing on my journey through life.
Netzach Running Amok
Like Chesed, its parent, sitting above it on the Tree of Life, Netzach can run amok. It, too, is uninhibited flow and can become a brutal force. Think of those all-nighters we’ve pulled to complete a task; how often did we acknowledge the risks to our health or even to the quality of the work we would produce? Likewise, when our goal is to win – another quality of Netzach – are we considering all the costs? Netzach will need to be balanced by Hod – a relationship that Ruach D’vorah will introduce next week.
The Present Moment is an Eternity
This year, as we arrive at this sefirah, I find myself wondering about the nature of eternity. The forever-ness of Netzach points us to eternity. What is that? Is it a quality we can apprehend? In our lives, limited by time, what does eternity suggest?
My Savta (grandmother) taught me that the present moment is an eternity. Each moment contains all that came before and all the potential of what is yet to be. Be Here Now, a popular book by Ram Dass in my generation, launched the mindfulness revolution. We were taught to peel away at the layers of the material world, to discover our true essence or soul; and that part of us, we were told, lives on in perpetuity, it is everlasting.
Anyone who calls my phone when I’m not available, hears me invite them to “have a beautiful now”. So many have left a message wondering if their now already passed them by, as they listened to my voice. I have heard many variations on ‘now’ and ‘then’, and each time I’m amused. Because the whole point of eternity is that it’s not a game of semantics, it’s an invitation to simple Presence.
The Practice
In this week of Netzach I invite us all to practice being fully present to a moment. While on the road to accomplishing a task, completing a project, winning the game, let’s stop to smell the roses. Let’s bring all of our attention and focus all our senses on the beauty of the natural world. Make a commitment to notice something beautiful or surprising in your world, at least once a day, and stop – be fully present to the experience. Then remember that moment and find the quality of eternity that was present as you entered into the fullness of it.
This, too, is Netzach.
From Yerusha
Rabbi Nadya Gross
Commentary on the week of Hod
Hod – Splendor, Majesty, Humility, Gratitude, Ritual
by Rabbi Nadya Gross
I love the attribute of Hod. As a human being, I am in co-creative partnership with the Creator and all of Creation. Furthermore, I love to create rituals that transform energy and create sacred space. I often turn to Hod for guidance.
This week the flow of creative energy moves from the right hip and leg to the left – balancing our stance on this earth. Hod is the receptive attribute which catches, contains and gives form to the unbridled, powerful force of Netzach. Last week, Kohenet Ruach D’vorah described so clearly that instinctual drive and passion to “get things done” and leave a lasting impression. Hod says: if you want to leave your mark on the world, let it shine with splendor and stand out for its beautiful form.
Hod recognizes and celebrates the beauty of this created world and all its component parts. It makes itself known through our senses; and then we want to see more, touch again, inhale the perfume, taste the sweetness… So we create rituals to reenact and recreate the wow moments, and to remember the sense of sacredness we experienced.
We make forms that carry the essence of those peak moments, whether through art, music, movement or other creative expressions. We are inspired to use our unique gifts and skills to offer our contributions to the magnificent world of which we are a part, to reflect and enhance the splendor and majesty of Creation.
And we make our offerings with deepest humility. We know that our creative capacity is not our own, but a gift from the Source of creativity. We are humbled to receive and feel called to give back with gratitude. Hod is also related to the word hoda’ah – gratitude. When we create something beautiful, using our gifts and skills, and giving form to the essential divine energy that runs through this realm, we are saying “thank you”.
In this week of Hod, I want to get in touch with my passion, my drive to make a lasting contribution, to leave my legacy; I want to allow that forceful expression to awaken my creative gifts – whatever they may be – and with gratitude to fashion my contribution to the ever-evolving and changing world so that it adds to the beauty of what is, and crowns it with splendor.
Some other Hod practices this week:
Each morning, list 10 things you’re grateful for (in your life, your relations and the world)
Sing praises to the natural world around you
Create something to give away: bake a cake, write a poem or song, take a photo, and give it to someone who will be uplifted by your thoughtfulness
From Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies
The Faces of Lag Be-Omer
By: Rabbi Pinchas Giller
Lag be-Omer, the 33rd day of the 49 days between the holidays of Passover and Shavuot, has many identities. In kabbalistic terms, the minor holiday begins as the celebration of the yahrtzeit of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, the hero of the Zohar. The Talmud had told the tale of his flight from the Romans, hiding in a cave, located, variously, in Peki’in or Lod. That tale and others attested to a turbulent and romantic career for the 2nd century Tanna. His reappearance as the hero of the Zohar, a thousand years later, reinforced the strong shadow of his presence in the general imagination. Isaac Luria would journey from Tsfat to Meron to make a festive meal on Lag Be-Omer, to celebrate the yahrtzeit.
The Zohar described the death of Rabbi Shimon in its penultimate passages known as the Idrot. According to those accounts, Rabbi Shimon died in the throes of mystical ecstasy while envisioning the ultimate secrets of the structure of God. At the moment of his death, the disciples were surrounded on all sides by walls of fire. The practice of lighting bonfires on Lag Be-Omer, which has led to many abuses in the charedi community, probably comes from this association. Moreover, the tale of Rabbi Shimon’s emergence from hiding involved him seeing, like the Biblical Noah, a rainbow (Heb.- keshet). So bows and arrows became associated with the festive day.
Hence, Lag Be-Omer emerged to prominence in a certain historical nexus, the progression from the Zohar’s appearance in the 13th century to the fulfillment of its ideas in the Galilee of the 16th century. In 1272, Petachia of Regensburg, one of the epic Jewish travelers of the medieval period, reported that the Jews of the Galilee “pray for rain in the cave of Hillel and Shammai and in the study room of Shim’on Bar Yochai” on Mt. Meron, and that description was certainly in hand when the Zohar recorded the inhabitants of Meron vying for the right to bury Rabbi Shimon there. The buildings over Rabbi Shimon’s grave at Meron were built by Rabbi Avraham Galante, a Zohar exegete and student of Rabbi Isaac Luria. Now Lag Be-Omer had, along with its story, a site, namely the slopes of Mt. Meron, where the central celebration takes place to this day.
In the non-kabbalistic world, Lag be-Omer was linked to a mysterious “plague among the students of Rabbi Akiva” alluded to in the later midrashic sources (Yevamot 62b). Was this a veiled references to martyrdom during the Jewish revolt? In any case, Rabbinic authorities prescribed a certain reticence during the Omer and a general ban on weddings. This impulse took on greater weight as the Church gained prominence and the season between Passover and Shavuot began to be shadowed by the Christian celebrations of Easter and Pentacost, a period when the local Christian clergy might fall back on some powerful sermons about the circumstances of Jesus’ death, leading to pogroms by the locals. So Jewish authorities in Ashkenaz counseled circumspection during this period, a reticence about celebrations that survives to this day, punctuated only by the Zionist holidays of Yom ha-Shoah, Yom ha-Zikharon and Yom ha-Atzmaut.
These overlapping identities held sway until the mid-20th century. American Judaism, in its excelsis, was fueled by the images Masada, Jewish militarism and Holocaust guilt. For example, the most popular volume in our Temple library was once called “Jews Fought Too” about American Jewish participation in World War II. In the course of this interest is what Max Nordau called “muscular Judaism,” American-style, Lag be-Omer was rebranded, becoming, like Chanukah, the holiday of Jewish resistance.
These identities may not be valid or historically accurate, but Isaac Luria still said of the Omer that the Torah states, “wheat portion for every head” (Heb. omer la-gilgolet, Exodus 16:16.). Whether or not, then, one observes customs of mourning during the Omer, one’s hair should run wild, and the screaming babies at Meron, waiting to get their first haircut, also have a part in the day. And I will have a little beard trim, and contemplate the ascension of Rabbi Shimon, as he left behind this world of dichotomies, dialectics and disunities in pursuit of the place where everything is One.
From the Hebrew College
Lag BaOmer: Starting Over Yet Again
Rabbi Ebn Leader
On Thursday night (April 29) we will count and celebrate the 33rd day of the Omer. The Omer has a consistent rhythm to it—count seven days seven times, one after another, and they will lead you to the climax of the 50th day, standing at the foot of Mount Sinai. Marking the 33rd day feels like a strange break in that rhythm. It is not on the beat of seven, nor is it at the half point or at any other easily discernible breaking point. Why then do we mark it?
The Shulhan Arukh, the classic 16th century compendium of Jewish practices, has relatively little to say on the topic. “It is our custom not to marry between Pesach and Shavu’ot until the thirty-third of the Omer because the students of Rabbi Akiva died during that period . . . It is our custom not to cut our hair until the thirty-third of the Omer because they say that is when they stopped dying.” (Shulhan Arukh, OH 493:1-2)
One must go back to the Talmud, to get more context for this story.
It is said that Rabbi Akiva had 12,000 pairs of students spread out from the town of Gevat to Antipatres, and they all died in one stretch of time because they did not treat each other with respect. The world was left desolate until Rabbi Akiva came to our masters in the south and taught them.
Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehudah, Rabbi Yossi, Rabbi Shimeon, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua—they were the revival of Torah at that time.
It is taught: they (the 24,000) all died between Pesach and Shavu’ot. (bavli, Yevamot 62b)
I have heard this story many times, but how could I not hear it differently this year as we begin to allow ourselves to hope—might this pandemic soon be behind us? I will leave for another day the Talmud’s attempt to give a moralizing explanation for the staggering number of deaths. The pain itself comes through clearly regardless of explanations—“the world was left desolate . . . . ”
I am struck by the choice to tell the story through the prism of one person—Rabbi Akiva. In this story he was not one of those who developed a new hobby in quarantine. He was one of those who lost everything. Twenty-four thousand deaths and each one was personal. A lifetime dedicated to sharing Torah, to creating another generation in which Torah can live and continue, and it is all wiped out. The world was left desolate . . . .
There is tremendous hope and resilience in the following sentence, in which he starts over again with five new students, but if we are to honor that hope, we must acknowledge the crushing feelings of despair and futility that this hope shines through.
I am reminded of a poem by the Israeli poet Yonah Wallach, of blessed memory, to whom I must apologize for this quick and rough translation:
And there was nothing I could do with it
can you hear, nothing
I could do, it was in my hands
And there was nothing I could do with it.
I couldn’t do anything with it
Can you hear, I could stammer
A-a-and what I wanted to say
I could feel the worst possible
(You are about to solve a complicated problem,
You will give the correct answer,
It is the final exam, and suddenly you)
stand there like a little child with a bib around your neck
And say a-and . . . you repeat the question . . .
What did you do with it they ask, where,
you threw it all away, you had a chance,
and now you will have to start all over again.
(Yonah Wallach, Subconsciousness Opening Like a Fan, p. 75)
So many of us lost loved ones and friends.
So many lost jobs and sources of livelihood.
So many plans and projects and dreams that had so much invested in them ended abruptly or painfully faded away.
Do you have the strength to start all over again?
The Omer tells a deceptively simple story. Once you get out of Egypt, put one foot in front of the other and step after step will bring you to the mountain top.
The story of the 33rd day of the Omer is a story of a person who did that, who made real progress only to see it all collapse, and then found the spiritual fortitude to start all over again.
Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehudah, Rabbi Yossi, Rabbi Shimeon, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua. Another new beginning.
May we all connect to the joy of the 33rd day of the Omer, and may it seep into our own lives and nourish the seeds of courage that we need in order to start over again.
From Karen Marker
In the month of blossoming
At that well of bitter waters
after all the wandering, the unbearable thirst
and drought and fear of drowning
after all the disease
it happens, just like they said
it had when Moses cast in the tree
and there comes from this a glorious day
of miraculous sweetness.
Our escape from captivity
is a blossoming
of wings heading upwards
a quenching and glowing
the crossing of paths with a billion birds
in flight on an exodus journey
heading west and north, south and east
going towards light
and landing by the edge of the river.
This is the healing:
our counting off each day
of travel that makes us smarter
braver, purified by gratitude, in love
with manna like smiles that fall upon us
from the skies, and how little it takes
to settle in somewhere
other than where we began
again in the company of others
who dared as we did to start over,
to come closer.
From Reb Sholom Brodt
I hope that everyone is having a joyous and wonderful Pesach. Since this Shabbos is within the holiday of Pesach we will not read the regular Parshat Hashavuah; instead we will be reading a passage from sefer Shmot [32:12-23] that relates to Pesach. For ‘maftir’ we will read, in a 2nd sefer Torah, the portion in Bamidbar [28:19-25] about the special Pesach sacrifices.
This Shabbos we read the beautiful prophecy given to Yechezkel [Ezekiel 37] about the revival of the dry bones.
The hand of the LORD was upon me, and the LORD carried me out in a spirit, and set me down in the midst of the valley, and it was full of bones …. they were very dry. And He said unto me: ‘Son of man, can these bones live?’ And I answered: ‘O Lord GOD, Thou knowest.’ Then He said unto me: ‘Prophesy over these bones, and say unto them: O ye dry bones, hear the word of the LORD: Thus saith the Lord GOD unto these bones: Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live. And I will lay sinews upon you, and will bring up flesh upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and ye shall live; and ye shall know that I am the LORD.’
On Pesach we celebrate the gift of freedom and renewal of life. May we be blessed to be new every day.
S’firat Ha’omer:
In the Torah we learn the mitzvah of the Counting of the Omer in the following verses:
And you shall count unto yourselves, from the morrow of the day of rest, from the day you brought the ‘omer’ [sheaf] of the waving; seven weeks shall there be complete.
Even unto the morrow after the seventh week, you shall count fifty days; and you shall present a new meal offering to Hashem. Vayikra 23: 15-16
REB SHLOMO zt”l on the relationship between Pesach when we celebrate our FREEDOM and SFIRAT HA-OMER – the COUNTING OF THE OMER
“You know my darling friends, freedom is a gift from heaven. If you would like to know who has the gift it’s very simple, it’s very simple. If someone says ‘I’m demanding freedom for myself’ this is not G-d’s freedom. But if someone walks the streets of the world, and he would like to see every human being free, this is G-d’s freedom. So on Pesach G-d gave us freedom, but not freedom to do what we want to do, not freedom to use dirty words, not freedom to push someone away. Free to walk to Mount Sinai, free to hear the word of G-d. Free to love the whole world, free to bring peace to the world.
And you know my darling friends; it’s a holy law, holy tradition, holy custom, that from Pesach till Shavuot you count the days. Because a slave does not count his days, a free person learns to count. A holy person counts his days, his blessings to people.
You know that some people say there is a world; [but] G-d never said love the world, G-d said love the person who is standing next to you. ‘Count’ the people; ‘count’ the people you see.”
Reb Shlomo zt”l. Los Angeles/ 1972
As is already familiar to us, Shavuot comes seven weeks after Pessach. More precisely starting on the second night of Pessach we count 49 days, and the fiftieth day is Shavuot; unlike the other holidays there is no stated calendar date for Shavuot in the Torah. In these verses we learn that it is a mitzvah to count each day and each week of the seven weeks of the Omer counting. The counting begins on the second day [night] of Pessach. On that day, in Temple times, we would bring an ‘omer’ measurement of the new barley crop, as a wave offering in the Beit Hamikdash. [A wave offering was offered as follows: the Kohen would stand in front of the Altar and lift/wave the ‘omer’ of barley in all six directions]. After we fully completed the counting of the seven weeks, we celebrated the holiday of Shavuot, [‘Shavuot’ means ‘weeks’] on the 50th day, with offering the “Mincha chadasha” the ‘new meal offering’ with two loaves of bread made of the new grain. We also brought the first fruits to the temple on this holiday. Shavuot is also the holiday of the “giving of the Torah”.
All the commentators point to a number of peculiarities in this text:
a] This mitzvah of ‘counting’ is quite unusual! What is it all about?
b] The Torah connects the counting with the wave offering of the ‘omer’ of barley and with the ‘new meal offering’ in the form of two breads.
c] The Torah does tell us the date for the beginning of the counting period… it simply tells to begin on the second day of Pessach, the day we offer the ‘omer of the uplifting’ of the barley.
d] The Torah does not tell us the date for Shavuot; rather we are only told that it is on the 50th day.
The Netivot Shalom brings a number of Chassidic teachings to explain some of the above. Briefly summarized, he explains that first we need to understand that this period of the counting of the Omer is given to us a time for spiritual self-purification. The seven weeks correspond to the seven ‘sfirot’, the seven emotional attributes. These are:
Chesed – Lovingkindness;
Gevurah – Justice and discipline;
Tiferet – Harmony, compassion;
Netzach – Endurance;
Hod – Humility;
Yesod – Bonding;
Malchut – Sovereignty, leadership.
In addition each day of each week corresponds to a particular ‘sfira’. The ‘sfirot’ represent our spiritual and psychological attributes. During this period of counting the Omer we work on refining these attributes on a personal level.
Why do we do this particularly at this time of the year? We have learned that on the night of Pessach when we were redeemed from Mitzrayim, Hashem revealed to us a great Divine light and then He hid it again. This was a foretaste of the great Revelation that we were going to experience at Sinai when Hashem was going to give us the Torah.
To receive this great light and to retain it in a permanent way we would have to prepare ourselves by refining our vessels. On the Night of Pessach it was given to us from above; it was a Divine free gift, given for just a short while, just long enough to inform us of our higher soul-selves, long enough to create a strong yearning to be forever close with Hashem, to forever live together with Hashem in our daily lives.
-Pessach is compared to our getting engaged to Hashem.
-The seven weeks of counting is our preparation period.
-Shavuot is the marriage, the union of Hashem with the people of Israel.
-The wave offering of the ‘omer of barley’ as well as the wave offering of the ‘new meal’ and the offering of first-fruits, demonstrated our belief and trust in Hashem, that all that we have comes from Hashem and only from Hashem, that it all belongs to Him alone. This represents the relinquishing of our attachments to material wealth, and nullifying our egotistical selves in readiness ‘to be in complete union’ with Hashem.
-The ‘Mincha chadasha’ – the gift of newness – is our gift of newness to Hashem, our readiness to be, to live anew and fresh every day with vitality and vigor, to live better and higher each day.
From Rabbi Diane Elliot
The Thirty-Third Day
[L’ag B’Omer is the thirty-third day of the Omer, the seven-week period between the holidays of Passover and Shavu’ot. In ancient times, this was a period devoted to offering the first fruits of the winter barley crop (an omer measure of grain), while the priest counted the days and offered prayers to ensure the abundance of the summer wheat crop. The Sages identified the weeks of the Omer with the journey of the Israelite people from slavery in Egypt to the foot of Mt. Sinai, where they received Divine revelation. In later times, mystics devoted themselves to spiritual refinement during the time of counting the Omer, using the qualities of the seven lower sefirot or Divine emanations of the kabbalistic Tree of Life to prepare for the receiving Torah anew each year. The Talmud teaches that the first thirty-two days of this seven-week period are a time of mourning, in remembrance of the 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva who died then. The qualities of Divine emanation associated with the thirty-third day are hod sheh’b’hod, the humility within splendor, the splendor that unfolds only through surrender.]
They died in droves
twelve thousand pairs of them,
so they say—
died of contagious disrespect,
pernicious contention,
these zealous students,
Rabbi Akiva’s boys.
Study buddies run amok,
they sank into backbiting
mud-slinging, one upsmanship;
arguing not for the sake of heaven
but on their own behalf.
Twenty-four thousand politicians of the soul,
ruthless competitors in
the marketplace of spirit,
forgot the untold grace
of paradox, the beauty of
elu v’elu, that these and also these
are the Living words.
It brought a plague upon their heads,
or so the pundits said—
a plague that fell upon them
like poisoned rain,
killing thousands
(and whom have I lately dissed,
ignored, abandoned,
labeled “lesser than,”
in my mad rush up the mountain?),
until the thirty-third day
when the dying stopped, abruptly,
so they say,
on the same date that,
some years later,
the great bar Yokhai,
khai, khai, bar Yokhai
Rabban Shimon bar Yokhai,
Akiva’s brilliant student,
who came to him after the plague,
departed this world, prophet-like,
in a fiery chariot, luminous,
ecstatic as a bridegroom.
On this day of hod sheh’b’hod
this day of splendrous surrender,
mass dying stopped,
and the true death,
the mystical merging,
was revealed,
as it is taught:
“Your term of exile is completed,”
yomar Kadosh.
Exhale! Go get a shave!
Go home and marry
your high school sweetheart!
She who has tended your garden,
go sit in her shade
like the spreading shadow
of a lush fig tree,
and count your blessings.
And what do we know
of those sweethearts,
those women—
the mothers, sisters, solitary brides,
waiting, patiently (or not),
for these twenty-four thousand
who would never return,
sitting in courtyards
or before humble hovels,
crushing grain into flour
on their grinding stones,
baking bread in clay ovens,
spinning flax threads and wool threads
day by day, making their own
silent offerings,
doing the unsung work,
waiting eagerly (or not)
to greet their young men—
each son, each brother,
each husband—
not knowing they
have died in the wars of
othering, of besting,
of putting down—
not knowing they
did not live
to fight another day?
Hod sheh’b’hod,
surrender to the splendor!
Light a bonfire
on the hillside of your heart,
in the forest of your mind!
Burn through the fakery,
the stubbornness
that passes for
endurance, the
ephemeral victories
that call themselves “eternal.”
Soften stiff hips, aching knees,
as you sink into the deepest bow,
allying hips and legs
with heart and belly.
Groan with the earth,
sigh with the tides,
wave with the sheaves,
let pride and greed evaporate
and rise to cloud,
then fall as rain,
purified, gentle—
a healing rain
of humble blessing.
––Rabbi Diane Elliot
* with thanks to poet Susan Windle for the phrase, “the splendor of surrender”
©Diane Elliot 2020
http://www.whollypresent.org
From Rabbi James Stone Goodman
Message of barley offering Omer
Nothing too lowly
Nothing too inflexible
That cannot be moved and lifted
Transformed and turned To-ward.
Nothing too lowly that cannot
Be moved Toward and By and Up.
Message of the Omer period
Giving over to lifted up
Moving toward
With everything we have
Lowliest to the loftiest.
jsg
Morid Hatal — Seeing the Small Things
A teaching from Reb Shlomo
In the Amidah prayer everyday we say:
You are mighty forever Lord. You bring the dead back to life with abundant salvation.
In the winter we add: Mashiv haruah umorid hageshem. — You blow the wind and bring down the rain.
In the summer, starting with Pesach, we change this to Morid hatal. — You bring down the dew.
In 1968 in the House of Love and Prayer, Reb Shlomo gave over a teaching on Morid Hatal. It went something like this:
We all feel “dead” sometimes — sad, discouraged, hopeless. But our prayers remind us that G-d’s presence can always bring us back to life. Sometimes we experience G-d’s presence like wind and rain. Strong and dramatic. Big events that change our lives. Other times it’s like “dew“. Subtle, gentle. We might not notice the dew if we’re not paying attention. In the winter, we’re tuning in to the experience of wind and rain. In the summer, we’re tuning into the experience of dew. The level of dew is to notice the small things, and the small signals, that are all around us. And to experience G-d in all of it.
From AJR/CA
This is about counting the Omer
Parshat Emor
Torah Reading for Week of April 29 – May 5, 2018
By Rabbi Elisheva Beyer, ’06
“You shall count for yourselves – from the day after the day of rest, from the day when you bring the omer of the waving – seven weeks, they shall be complete. Until the day after unto the seventh week you shall count, fifty days; and you shall offer a new meal-offering to G-d.” Lev. 23:15-16, Parshat Emor.
According to Torah and our Sages, we are to count the forty-nine days from the second day of Passover (a “rest” day) until Shavuot. In ancient times, the counting was the time period between when the new crop of barley was offered on the altar on the second day of Passover until when two loaves of wheat bread were offered seven weeks later. The specific amount of barley brought was about two quarts, called an “omer.” Until the Omer offering is brought to the altar, any grain planted within the past year (from the 16th of Nissan) could not be eaten.
This time period has been refocused by our Sages to a time for meaningful opportunity to grow our souls. As with everything in Torah, layers of deep spiritual meaning are infused into it. Let’s take a look at some of the layers and what they meanings. Passover is the time of leaving Egypt (Mitzra’im, in Hebrew, meaning narrow places) where we were slaves. When we leave there, we must let go of our chametz, metaphorically identified as ego, and also signified by the barley offering. In the eyes of the ancients, barley was seen as more of an animal food, rather than wheat which was considered more appropriate for humans. Our ego is considered to be our animalistic nature – the selfish desires to do what is only best for ourselves. We need to let go of completely selfish desires in order to grow spiritually. Thus, our barley offering (animal-nature) is put on G-d’s altar. Then we begin transforming ourselves until the time when we can become a partner with the Holy One. In this instance, the partnership is literally shown in the process of making wheat into bread and coincides with receiving Torah.
Omer (עמר a measurement of barley) and yakar (יקר meaning precious) have the same gematria (the letters add up to the same numbers).[1] Thus, according to our Sages, this seven week time period is to be treasured. Within it, we have an opportunity to accelerate our spiritual growth. Following the guidance of our Sages, during the Omer, we focus on various personality traits, as noted in kabbalistic texts. On each of the forty-nine days of Sefirat HaOmer (“Counting of the Omer”), we refine, develop and illuminate another aspect of our soul. Each day of the sefirah has a specific facet of our personality for us to examine. It is designed as a time to refine our emotions, rather than being driven by them. In this way, we prepare ourselves to receive Torah on Shavuot.
According to R’ DovBer, the Maggid of Mezeritch, sefirah, “counting,” also means “illumination.” These forty-nine days are a bridge between the slavery of Egypt and Shavuot, a time when we are able to forge a contract with G-d and receive Torah. Shavuot is the fiftieth day and the time of receiving Torah: the time when we receive G-d’s blueprint for how to live our lives.
Posts 5778
From Rabbi James Stone Goodman
Counting
April 20th, 2011
Life Daily
Counting counting
daily
today is day __ of the Omer
From the second day of Passover
to the
fiftieth day –
Shavuot.
Z’man transformation
the time of our transformation.
Levi Yitzchak asked me:
When does freedom begin?
We search our stories.
During the Omer period
we are preparing ourselves for the wedding
for the durable wisdom
the gift of a guidebook.
A barley offering –
nothing too lowly
too inflexible that cannot be moved
lifted and transformed –
Nothing too lowly that
cannot be moved towards G*d
by G*d.
Today I am a vessel
a working out of potencies
Energies
Elementals –
In particular
I am a daily ______
within a week of ______
Work me, O holy G*d
You have my atten-
tion.
jsg, usa
From Chaya Kaplan Lester
Pesach Sheni
I don’t know about you, but Passover is hard on me. Hard on my faith. Hard on my marriage too. I can’t seem to make it to Seder night without a resounding chorus of my own low moans of protest. Protest against the toil of it all. The cleaning. The cooking. The taking care of everyone and everything…again. Another round of exhausting rites and ritual, long nights and a few too many fights. I inevitably seem to miss out on G!d along the way.
So I am particularly appreciative of Pesach Sheni. The Second Passover. The Holiday of Second Chances. This is the replay holiday, reserved for those who were unable to partake in the Pascal lamb on time. Exactly one month later, thankfully, we get another chance to tackle this whole freedom march, this time from a place of a little less stress and a lot more perspective.
I always seem to need it. I’m a second-chancer by nature. Doubling down on Pesach Sheni with a vengeance. – If you need it, you can have some second-chance too. It’s this Tuesday night/Wednesday and it’s real easy. Just get out a piece of matza and sit down with whoever you lost along the way. Ask for a second chance; from G!d, your spouse, your self, your friend.
After all, second-chances have their own particular flavor of freedom. It’s richer, more subtle and complex than the first taste could ever have.
Pesach Sheni
Let’s try this again.
To connect the daats
– to know each other
Biblically, mythically,
with all of our incompletes.
Let’s bring back the mystic,
because I missed-it
a month ago
in all the madness
of the Exodus.
I just flat-out missed it.
I was too bloody
tired
and you
were strained
and the table was painted
with the sweat and toil of slavery
though we played like we were free
for the sake of the children,
didn’t we?
– Masterfully.
We were as distant as
planets spinning
in their usual orbits
– light years between us.
‘Do not worry, we will loop
back around
to eclipse each other again’
– I said.
‘We are like the moon and the sun
that don’t ever really touch
except every once
in a while
on a starry night
one sphere atop another
still so distant
but stacked with precision
in a line of connection
and perfect symmetry.
It is all about our perspective,
isn’t it?
When the M of me stops
gazing down and
turns heavenward instead
to become ‘We’.
Just lift your head.
Come cast your shadow over me.
With nothing but forgiveness
between us
the close flat facts of our connection
plain as any page
of matza reads
You will bring the charoset
for sweetness between us
and I can bring the marror
to memorialize the distance.
We will sandwich them
just like the sages.
Forgive me.
I was lost in my own loss,
my own trauma.
I carried the old bones
of Joseph, you know.
Like a mother who buries
her priestly sons
in silence,
I lost my chance
to celebrate you.
But I won’t lose my chance
to beg forgiveness
and to press with compassion
that eternal reset button
on our friendship.
So let’s try this again.
With no pomp and circumstance.
No children, no guests, no friends.
Just a page of matza
and four open palms
between us.
“And with a strong hand
we were brought out of Egypt.”
You are my Exodus.
My strong hand.
Your forgiveness
is my freedom.
Our love is my holy land.
Let’s leave Egypt
again.
From Rabbi Laura Duhan Kaplan
Boundaries by Design: Omer Week Two
Sephirat Ha’Omer: seven weeks of spiritual practice, taking account of the elements – the sephirot — of spirit.
Remember the Periodic Table of the Elements from basic Chemistry? It’s a simple graphic, listing the elements of matter, arranged from the most rarified to the most dense.
Kabbalistic tradition offers something like it: two diagrams of the sephirot, linear and circular.
The linear model is anchored in three lines, like a human body: centre, right and left. Lines of sephirot flow from this stick body’s head down to its feet. The model tells a story: Once there was a primordial human being who contained all the possibilities of creation. We could recover these possibilities, if we develop a skilled mind.
The concentric circle model shows a set of nested sephirot. The outer circle is the most ineffable element; the centre circle is the most familiar. The model mimics ancient drawings of the universe: our familiar earth encircled by its atmosphere, its solar system, its galaxy, its quadrant, its universe, its creator. The diagram show us tiny yet protected, nestled within a complex divine body and a great cosmological process.
Two shapes; two stories. Two templates; two teachings. In each case, order, design, and boundaries shape what we see. That’s gevurah: the meaningful boundary.
Gevurah is the work of Elohim – God’s character in the Torah’s creation story. God speaks the chaos into shape, carving designs with sound. Notice Elohim’s work in the diversity of rocks, plants, and animals. In their predictable interactions. In the surprise developments when one adjusts to the other. Can we walk through the week with wonder at the world’s design?
Gevurah is present in human speech, too. Our feelings shape our breath; our mouths form breath into words. Our minds design sentences, monologues, conversations. Notice the complex vowel pattern in the word Gevurah, which also means military might. Eh-oo-ah. It’s the same pattern as Refuah, healing. Will we choose harmful or healing patterns of speech? How can we consciously perfect our conversational boundaries?
Gevurah, some teachers say, shines with red light. Red, the colour of blood. Of life. And death. “If am I not for myself who will be?” asks our teacher Hillel, because good boundaries can save life. “If I am only for myself, then what am I?” he adds, because strict boundaries can leave another to die. We can learn the practical wisdom to measure Gevurah correctly. What local resources will we find?
From Rabbi Laura Duhan Kaplan
Universal Love: Omer Week One
SePHiRat HaOmer: a little spiritual practice to keep us Jews connected, during the seven long weeks between Pesach and Shavuot.
SePHiRat Ha’Omer.
In ancient Biblical times, a public ritual of counting the measure of the ripening spring grain.
In contemporary Kabbalistic times, taking a personal measure of the ten SePHiRot.
What does the Kabbalistic concept of “SePHiRot” mean? There’s no simple answer. The Hebrew word hints at:
SPHeRes. Regions on a map of the universe, as drawn by ancient philosophers.
miSPaRim. Hebrew for “numbers,” organized into a mathematical model of reality.
SiPPuRim. Hebrew for “stories” that show us how to navigate our world.
SePHaRim. Hebrew for “books” teaching us how to read our existence.
SaPPHiRes. Multifaceted gems, refracting light into its parts.
Sephirot, it seems, are the building blocks of reality.
If we grasp the nature of these elements, we understand reality. That’s the hope.
But real life only shows us the elements in combination. So, our conception of the elements follows our theory of the whole.
Is the universe is made of Divine energy? If so, sephirot are names of God.
Is that energy best described as light? Sephirot are colours of the rainbow.
Or as vibration? Sephirot are elemental sounds.
Or as consciousness? Sephirot are attitudes of spiritual consciousness.
During Sephirat Ha’Omer, we meditate on a different sephirah each week. On its expression of God, light, sound, and consciousness.
Week One begins at sundown Tuesday April 11 and ends at sundown Tuesday April 18.
Week One is the week of chesed. The week to contemplate God as El, the color white, the vowel sound ehh, and the spiritual quality of love.*
El is a universal God. Traces of El are expressed in all religions, present in all natural phenomena.The first character in the Torah to call God El is the mysterious priest Melchizedek (Gen, 14:22). God, says Melchizedek, is El Elyon, Koneh Shamayim Va’aretz. Ultimate God, Creator/Owner/Shelterer of Earth and Heaven.
Look this week, for traces of El. Do you see El in acts of inter-religious friendship? In the “spiritual not religious movement”? In the impulse to walk outdoors instead of attend synagogue?
White reminds me of snow and clouds. It is the colour of water, of deep quiet, of high mountains and blindingly bright light. A colour whose purity can be attained only through grace. When do I yearn for such purity? How do I imagine it will heal me?
The sound “ehh” carries breath through the word chesed. When do you breathe out the sound “ehh”? For you, is it a sound of determination or resignation? What words animated with “ehh” come to mind? Do they cluster around a theme? Can you arrange them in a whimsical rhyme?
And the quality of love — it’s like a rainbow in itself. Or perhaps a white light of integrated qualities. Think about it: Love relies on the power of all seven sephirot of the Omer: Kindness. Boundaries. Compassion. Endurance. Gratitude. Reliability. Presence.
How do those seven qualities challenge you in love? How do they support you?
From Rabbi Rachel Barenblat
MAY 11, 2009
The bonfire of the expansive heart
I ought to be lighting a bonfire tonight, since we’ve entered the 33rd day of the Counting of the Omer. In Hebrew, the number 33 is spelled lamed-gimel; the two letters together are pronounced Lag, and the 33rd day of the Omer is called Lag b’Omer. And on Lag b’Omer, people light bonfires. Why? Well, it depends on who you ask.
One interpretation of the chronology in Torah holds that on this date, manna first began to fall from the heavens for the Israelites in the desert. Lag B’Omer (celebrated with picnics and rejoicing) can be understood as a commemoration of that happy miracle.
Another story (found in the Talmud) holds that 24,000 of the students of the great sage Rabbi Akiva died from a plague during the counting of the Omer because they failed to give one another proper respect (or, in Reb Zalman’s interpretation, they failed to see the chen, divine grace, in one another.) Many traditional Jews observe limited mourning customs during the first 32 days of the Omer, in remembrance of that plague; Lag b’Omer marks the day when the plague came to its end, and hence, we celebrate.
An alternate interpretation holds that the students died as part of the Bar Kokhba revolt against Rome. We spend the first 32 days of the Omer mourning their deaths…until the 33rd day of the Omer, when we rejoice that the massacre finally ended. (The killing may have come to an end, but the outcome of the war was pretty bleak; the name Judea was erased from Roman maps, the study of Torah was prohibited, and Jews were barred from entering Jerusalem. Oy.) Fearing of reprisal from Roman authorities, the sages of the Talmud didn’t want to mention the failed rebellion by name, so spoke of a “plague” instead.
Some Jews celebrate the yarzheit (death-anniversary) of the sage Shimon bar Yochai on this day; he was a student of Rabbi Akiva’s, and it is to him that the Zohar — germinal work of Jewish mysticism — is traditionally attributed. In this understanding, we light bonfires to symbolize the way his teachings illuminated the night.
It interests me that these are the stories we tell about this minor holiday. Today is a day for remembering how important it is that we see the grace in one another, and honor one another’s learning. It’s a day to remember the dangers of following messianic figures into violent rebellion. And it’s a day for celebrating illumination: not just the literal illumination of burning sticks and logs, but the metaphysical and spiritual illumination embodied in the wisdom of Torah and the Jewish mystical tradition.
In honor of that tradition, I want to offer a Hasidic teaching which relates to Lag B’Omer. It has nothing to do with the plague, or the rebellion, or anyone’s yarzheit, but it’s my favorite teaching about the holiday, hands down. This comes from a Hasidic rabbi called the B’nei Yisaschar (R’ Zvi Elimelech of Dinov.) (You can find a version of it in this post The illumination of a good heart; I’ve learned it from my teacher Reb Elliot.) It’s about the importance of having a good heart.
Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai said to his students: Go and see which is the good path to which a person should cleave. Rabbi Eliezer said: A good eye. Rabbi Yehoshua said: A good friend. Rabbi Yossi said: A good neighbor. Rabbi Shimon said: To foresee consequences. Rabbi Elazar said: A good heart. Their teacher said to them, I prefer the words of Elazar ben Arach over your words, for included in his words are all of yours.
–Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), 2:13
Each of the rabbis’ answers is important; it matters that we look on the world wisely, that we be good friends to one another, that we be good neighbors, that we pay attention to the consequences of our actions. But having a good heart is the most important of all, because it encompasses all of these.
The Hebrew word for good, tov, spelled tet-vav-bet, has a numerical value of 17. The word for heart, lev, is spelled lamed-bet, which has a numerical value of 32. Taken together, they make up the 49 days of the Omer. The whole journey of counting the Omer can be seen as a journey toward learning to truly have, and express, one’s good heart. We’ve spent the first 32 days of the Omer cultivating the quality of heart; Lag B’Omer marks the transition into cultivating the goodness of those hearts, so that by the time Shavuot rolls around we’re really ready for what’s coming. Another resonance: Lag B’Omer is the 33rd day of the Omer; and the 33rd word of the Torah is tov. This is a day for celebrating what’s good.
Returning to the Pirkei Avot quotation: what does it mean to look at the world with wisdom? Looking at the world as God did at the time of creation. What does it mean to have a good eye? It means seeing that creation is good, as God repeats throughout the early verses of Genesis. What does it mean to be a good friend? It means bringing opposites together in friendship, as God did in creating darkness and light as balances for one another. The Bnei Yisaschar sees the story of creation as a set of metaphorical instructions for us.
If we’ve been doing the spiritual work of counting the Omer — the work of refining our hearts — then today is a tipping point, a day when our hearts are capable of opening up in radical new ways. It’s that open-heartedness which allows us to see the goodness in all things, to really experience the world with a lev tov, a good heart. May we all be blessed to grow in good-heartedness this Lag B’Omer, and may that expansive quality of heart enrich the final days of the Omer to come.
From Kol Aleph
Omer Story: Changing Aleph to Ayin by Jason Mann
The Hasidic master known as the Sfat Emet speaks about the period of the Counting of the Omer as a time to change the Hebrew letter א / Aleph to the Hebrew letter ע / Ayin.
Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew word emirot which can mean “words.” Ayin is the first letter of the Hebrew word Omer symbolizing the counting of the Omer. Perhaps the Sfat Emet was thinking about the process of bringing the words of God into the world, and connecting this idea to the process of the Counting of the Omer.
Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew word Adonai (God). Ayin is the first letter of the Hebrew word Olam (world). So by changing Aleph to Ayin we can bring God into the world.
Aleph is the first letter of the Hebrew word for light, ohr. Ayin is the first letter of the Hebrew word for eyes, eynayim. So by changing Aleph to Ayin we make divine light visible to our eyes.
The numerical value of the letter Aleph is “one” and the numerical value of the letter Ayin is “seventy.” In going from Aleph to Ayin we go from the number one to the number seventy.
Our tradition teaches us that there are seventy different nations in the world. In moving from Aleph to Ayin, one to seventy, we can aspire to bring the truth of God to all the nations of the world
Our Rabbis also taught us that there are seventy different faces of the Torah. Some say that there are seventy different ways to understand each part of the Torah. One can imagine that by changing the Aleph (one) to Ayin (seventy) we bring the full wisdom of the Torah into the world.
The diversity of humanity is like a prism which refracts God’s light as it enters the world. Through this process of seeking out the seventy faces of Torah, the diversity of humanity refracts the divine light of the Torah into the world. Each individual sees Torah in his or her own way. This process of refraction creates a beautiful array of different types of light and wisdom that can help bring the world to wholeness.
So how do we transform Aleph into Ayin? To make this change we need to go on a spiritual journey of discovery and change. Spiritual journeys are difficult, and they rarely take us along a straight line. The Counting of the Omer is this journey. If all of humanity took the time to bring divine love, compassion, and peace into the world, we could change the Aleph to Ayin. May it be so, this year and every year.
From Rabbi David Seidenberg
Rainbow Day
According to Kabbalah, Rainbow Day is also the day of Malkhut in Yesod, a unity of masculine and feminine that represents a milestone on the way to the revelation of Shavuot. For us, it can represent a chance to commit ourselves to the rainbow covenant, to turn from actions that destroy the earth, to turn our lives away from unraveling earth’s climate and the web of life, from diminishing earth’s abundance.
The rainbow signified a new covenant between God and the land. It’s time for us to imagine a new covenant between humanity and the Earth, including the land and the seas, one that we start to live by as we change our lifestyles and habits. We can use the covenantal vision of the Shmitah year in Leviticus 25 to help guide our steps. And maybe next year it will be time to celebrate that new covenant.
Rainbow Day is pregnant with ritual possibilities related to the elements, to the midpoint between equinox and solstice, to the time between the fire of Lag B’Omer and the fire of Sinai, to global warming, to healing the waters, to the growing wheat crop in the land of Israel, and to all the meanings related to the journey from freedom to revelation. And rainbows are a symbol of diversity: the diversity of colors, of people, and of all life.
From Rabbis Without Borders
Pesach Sheni
The Torah of second chances
By Alana Suskin
A couple of years ago, after several years of trying to get all the way through the counting of the Omer, I built an Omer-counter with a foolproof reminder system – my son. It’s based on the Christian advent calendar in that it’s a series of forty-nine boxes (seven rows of seven) which has randomly placed toys inside the boxes. NO more forgetting to count in the evening! Every night, I have an excellent reminder, and so I do not lose my chance to say the blessing when I count, or worse yet, forget altogether and have to quit counting for the year.
It’s a yearly frustration for lots of people who try to keep up with the Omer – it’s easy to screw it up and lose track, and according to the tradition, if you mess up, well, hey tough. You’re out of luck.
That’s why it’s odd that about a month into the Omer (today, in fact) there’s a little known holiday that’s about …second chances. Pesach sheni ( or “second passover”) is a biblically based holiday that happens because, as is related in Numbers chapter 9, when God commands the Israelites, a year after the exodus, to bring the passover offering, there were certain people who had become ritually impure through contact with a dead body, and so, could not prepare the Passover offering on that day.
They approached Moses and Aaron and said, “We are unclean by the dead body of a man; wherefore are we to be kept back, so as not to bring the offering of God in its appointed season among the children of Israel?” (Numbers 9:7). After these people approached Moses and Aaron, God tells them that from then on, if anyone is ritually impure on passover, or is unable to keep passover for some other reason beyond their control, “he shall keep the passover unto God in the second month on the fourteenth day at dusk they shall keep it; they shall eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs.” (Numbers 9:11)
Pesach sheni is a strange holiday. We don’t really observe it – mostly because there isn’t really anything to observe – there’s no requirements, since we no longer bring sacrifices. And yet, it’s sort of a shame. Here we are, in the midst of a period where every day counts, where there are no second chances, where you have to get it exactly right, or you lose your chance (at least until next year), and there’s this holiday that interrupts it for the purpose of giving a second chance for a holiday that occurred a month prior – and not only that, but it’s the only holiday we have the sole purpose of which is to make up for a holiday that someone missed out on.
What is that all about?
Rabbi Yosef Y. Schneersohn is cited by his son-in-law as saying that, “Pesach Sheni teaches us that ‘Nothing is ever lost: it’s never too late!” and then the latter Schneersohn goes on to say, “Our conduct can always be rectified. Even someone who is impure, who was far away and even desired to be so, can still correct himself.” He continues, “Given the significance of Pesach Sheni, one might ask: Why was it instituted a full month after Pesach, in the month of Iyar? Wouldn’t it have been better to atone for our deficiencies at the earliest opportunity, in Nissan?”
“We can answer this question by comparing the spiritual characteristics of Nissan and Iyar. Nissan is the month of revelation, the month during which God revealed His greatness and redeemed the Jewish people despite their inadequacies. Iyar, by contrast, is the month of individual endeavor, a quality that is exemplified by the mitzvah of Sefirat HaOmer. The theme of Iyar, self-refinement initiated by the individual himself, is in keeping with the nature of Pesach Sheni, the festival in which an individual who was not motivated by Pesach is given an additional opportunity to elevate himself.”
So, two things:
First, the key to pesach sheni is precisely that it does occur a month later, during the Omer. Unlike the first Pesach, which is a national holiday, Pesach sheni is an individual’s holiday. The second thing is the way in which Pesach sheni came about – unlike well, pretty much everything else in the Torah, it isn’t initiated by God, given to Moses and Aaron and then passed on to the people. Instead, Pesach sheni is initiated by the people themselves, by a group of individuals. In fact, I know of really only one other case like this one: the daughters of Tzelophechad (which also appears in the book of Numbers, farther along, in Numbers 27), who challenged a law of inheritance whereby only sons could inherit, even if there weren’t any. They brought their challenge and God told Moses that they were right and amended the law.
I think that that parallel to the daughters of Tzelophechad is the key to why this is the only holiday that is a “make-up” for another holiday. It’s not just that it’s a group of individuals who want a make-up. It’s that these individuals saw a specific wrong that they wanted addressed, and they wanted it addressed for the sake of justice to individuals who have no control over being excluded from the nation. In the case of Tzelophechad’s daughters, the case is their sex; in the case of pesach sheni, it’s because they were doing another mitzvah ( caring for the dead). But the important thing is that these two cases are things which exclude them from the body of the nation in some crucial way. It is because of this that they take their complaint to God, and God answers them, “Of course, you are right.”
IN recent days, when we have seen so much change so quickly both in the Jewish community and out of it in regards to gay marriage and inclusion, this is a message that we should all take to heart. Pesach sheni isn’t merely a second chance for the individuals who were excluded, but is a second chance for the nation to include in its inheritance and in its moment of revelation everyone who throws their lot in with the Jewish people. Because even God can make a mistake, and even God can admit it and rectify it.
From Rav DovBer Pinson
Lag B’Omer: Liberation=Balance
Joy Amidst Sadness
The period of the counting of the Omer, from Passover to Shavuot, is generally viewed as a time of mourning. Lag B’omer stands as a refuge of joy amidst a time of subtle sadness. It is a thirty-two-day stretch from Passover to Lag B’omer, where weddings, music and even haircuts are not performed. These days were reserved to mourn, being that it is the period in which 24,000 of Rabbi Akiva’s students died from a mysterious plague. They died, says the Talmud, because “they did not act respectfully towards each other.”
Simplyput, Lag B’Omer, the thirty-third day of counting the Omer, is celebrated because it was at that time when the students ceased dying. More importantly, and a bit ironically, Lag B’Omer is also distinguished as a day of joy since it is the day of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai’s passing- his yartzeit.
Carob and Water
Rabbi Shimon was a second century sage who was one of five students of Rabbi Akiva who survived the plague. Beyond being a prime student of the illustrious Rabbi Akiva, as he once told his own disciples, “My sons, learn my ways, for my ways are the finest of the finest of Rabbi Akiva’s,” he was a great person in his own right.
Rabbi Shimon was one of the first to openly transmit to his circle the mystical teachings of the Torah, otherwise known today as Kabbalah, and he was the author of its fundamental text, the book of Zohar (Illumination).
In contrast to the other students who perished during this dreadful period, Rabbi Shimon Bar Yachai survived, and went on to live a full life, passing away at a ripe old age. So much so that when he did move on to the other realm it was seen as a time to rejoice, to celebrate the life and work of this noble teacher. The fact that he did complete his life and continued to teach and spread Torah, has tremendous historical and sociological significance, with practical ramifications until this present day. In addition, it was R. Shimon himself who requested of his people to dedicate the day of his passing as “the day of my joy.”
Steps in the Path of Personal Development
As there are no coincidences, everything is divinely orchestrated and organized, what needs to be explored is the connection between his death as a time of joy, and the others students’ deaths as a time to mourn, and their relationship with the counting of the Omer.
The forty-nine days of the counting represent forty-nine steps in the path of personal development. Kabbalistic teachings speak of seven primary emotional Sefirot. These are, chesed/giving, gevurah/ restraint, tiferes/harmony, netzach/ambition, hod/devotion, Yesod/connection and malchus/ receptiveness. Each of these emotional attributes on their own, without a solid dosage from the others creates a reality of tohu — confusion and chaos.
For example, having chesed without gevurah would be to allow a child to do whatever they want, at whatever time they want. Yet, this form of ‘giving’ is counterproductive, as children need borders and discipline to properly flourish. To introduce an order of tikkun — correction and perfection — there needs to be a blending of the attributes so that each one of the seven contains all the other, hence the number forty-nine, the days of counting and perfecting our emotional state.
The Middle Path
The point of it all is balance, the middle path, the balancing and counter-balancing of our emotional state. The most extreme of our emotions are aroused in a time of tragedy or in a time of comedy, when life throws us something unexpectedly bad, or something surprisingly good. Either way, our instincts are immediately awakened, and most often, we go into auto-pilot and react as opposed to being pro-active.
Of course, the death of an individual is going to stir within us deep emotions of sadness. In fact, the Rambam/ Maimonides refers to a person who does not show sadness in the face of death as an achzari — a cold hearted person. Not only can we mourn, but we are even encouraged to weep and bewail corporal death. The first three days of Shiva are called the days of weeping. So there is certainly a time for sadness. Sadness, but not depression, which is when you think life is over, but deep sadness. And yet in the midst of a national time of subtle mourning, this being the first 32 days of The Omer, which commemorates the unanticipated death of the students of R. Akiva, there stands Lag B’Omer like a Tree of Life. The joyous day of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai’s passing comes along and counter-balances our emotional state, and injects a healthy dosage of joy.
It is precisely the mystic par excellence, the illustrious R. Shimon, the one who appears beyond the immediate, who can show us that even in death, an assumed end, with no hope or future, there can be found joy and a time of rejoicing. For what at times seems “bad” at the moment may turn out to be “good” at a later time, and what is perceived as an end in the now may morph into a beginning of a brighter future in the present moment.
Lag B’Omer gives life and hope to the days that are otherwise meant to mourn. On the calendar, Lag B’Omer is on Chai Iyyar – the eighteenth day of the month of Iyyar. Chai is life, for Lag B’Omer gives life to the entire month of Iyyar, and by extension infuses all the days of our life with a healthy measure of joy, optimism, and hopefulness.
From Rabbi David Ingber
Counting the Omer: Ending the Beginning
http://soundcloud.com/romemu/chol-hamoed-pesach5773
From Rabbi David Seidenberg
Resources on the Days of the Omer from
NeoHasid
http://neohasid.org/zman/omer/
From Rabbi James Stone Goodman
Yizkor (for Yom HaShoah)
The memory of my beloveds
my birth right
a childhood home
first school
the library —
I remember.
The memory of my parents
The memories of their parents
immigrants
a shop in the city for those who made it
the goldene medinah
school a job a home
children.
I remember the memories of my parents
of their parents
the ones who didn’t make it –
I remember.
My great grandparents crouching in a corner of a cold room
Ukraine Minsk Byelorusse
Vilna Salonika Casablanca
Kiev Kishinev
I remember hiding their children in a cellar;
A broken leaf of a table for study
candle light
our books
the holy intent of our lives.
Outside they howled in the street
we sat huddled together for warmth around a fire
reading our books and teaching our children.
In a world without sense we made sense.
I remember, I remember it all.
jsg, usa
From Rabbi Rachel Barenblat
A Sestina for Counting the Omer
Posted: 30 Mar 2013
We mark the Omer day
by day, spring unfolding light
as snowflakes in the breeze. One
follows another; we measure each week
of this dusty journey through
wild unknowing. Come and count.
Time to make our qualities count.
The kaleidoscope shifts every day,
each dawn a lens that God shines through.
What in me will be revealed as light
streams into me each week?
Seven colors of the rainbow make one
beam of white. God is One
and God’s in everything we count.
Lovingkindness permeates the first week,
then boundaries, harmony, each day
a different lens for light
to warm our hearts as it glows through.
And when the Omer count is through?
We’ll stand at Sinai, every one
— every soul that’s ever been — light
as Chagall’s floating angels. Count
with me, and treasure each day.
A holy pause caps every week.
Endurance comes into play: week
four. We wonder, will we make it through?
Humility and splendor in a single day,
two opposites folded into one.
Roots strengthen us as we count.
Every day, more work to do and stronger light.
Torah is black fire on white, light
of our lives. In the seventh week
time warps and ripples as we count.
Kingship and presence come through,
transcendence and immanence bundled as one,
wholly revealed on the forty-ninth day…
Feel the light now pouring through.
Each week the seven sefirot become one.
It’s time to count the Omer, now, today.
From Rabbi Gershon Winkler
Lag B’Omer and the Chutzpah of Bar Yochai
A Teaching from Gershon…
The 33rd Day of the Counting of the O’mer arrives Thursday, May 10, a celebratory time that is celebrated for two seemingly separate commemorations that has some of us confused and others of us totally oblivious. On the one hand, we are told it is a celebration of the ascension of the great second century mystic, Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. And on the other hand, we are told it is a celebration of the end of a 32-day plague that struck thousands of Rabbi Akiva’s disciples (Talmud Bav’li, Yevamot 62b).
Their shortcoming is alluded to in the number of days that they took ill, 32, the Gemmatria (numerical value) for ck lev, the Hebrew word for “heart”. It is said that they did not accord one another proper honor, or sucf ka’vod, whose numerical value, too, is 32, as honoring emanates from the heart. Akiva so empowered those who studied with him that many of them felt that they were one head above the others, resulting in lack of respect by omission or commission.
Why did this tragic plague occur specifically during the period between Spring and Summer – between Passover and Shavuot? Because that is the period during which the luster of the shechinah is most potent — the zee’v ha’shecheenah vbhfav uhz –as the Light of Creaton conjures then the fruition of all that lies dormant in the heart of the Earth, as is written: “The Earth is illuminated by [God’s] Glory” (Ezekiel 43:2). And honor is related to all this since when we honor someone, we call forth their shine, their luster, their brilliance, their beauty (16th-century Rabbi Yehudah Loew of Prague [MaHaRaL] in Chiddushay Agado’t, Vol. 1, folio 133 – Mesechet Yevamot).
The 33rd day of the O’mer, incidentally, falls on the 18th day of the Hebrew month of Iyyar, and 18 implies Life, it being the numerical value of the Hebrew word for Life, chai hj. And so this deadly plague ceased on that day, and the joy of life was then restored. Thus the celebration behind what we call Lag B’Omer, the 33rd day of the Counting of the O’mer (16th-century Rabbi Yeshayahu ben Avraham in Sefer Ha’Sh’LaH, Mesechet Pesachim, Sefirat Ha’Omer 1:5).
Good.
Now what has Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai got to do with all this? Why is he celebrated on Lag B’Omer?
Listen. Rabbi Shimon happened to have been one of Akiva’s foremost disciples. He was among the few who were not stricken by the plague. He lived and breathed Akiva’s teachings, not just studied them. Day after day, as the Great Force of Darkness hovered over Judea, draining the disciples of their life breath, Bar Yochai challenged it, stood in its way, tried to avert it, to drive it away, to send it back to where it came from, but to no avail. A Heavenly Decree was a Heavenly Decree. But Rabbi Shimon was not one to give up and he persisted relentlessly. By Day 32, The Great Force of Darkness began to weaken in the face of Rabbi Shimon’s tenacity. There he stood once again, chanting his prayers and incantations at the looming Force of Darkness. Realizing that it could no longer hold out against the master, the Force of Darkness complained to God:
“Master of the Universe! You sent me to wreak this destruction upon these disciples of Akiva and Bar Yochai is not allowing me to complete my task!”
Said God: “Pay no attention to the son of Yochai and continue fulfilling My Decree.”
The Great Force of Darkness, empowered by God, returned to cast its fatal shadow over the land, but again Bar Yochai was there to block its path, and this time outright threatening the Spirit of Darkness: “If you will not go away, I will utter an incantation upon you that will prevent you from ever again returning to the Heavens! And you will end up like the fallen angels Aza and Aza’el.”
His words further weakened the Spirit’s resolve and it fled back to the Heavens, this time terrified by Bar Yochai’s threat. Again, the Great Force of Darkness complained to God and again God admonished the Spirit not to any attention to the threats of Bar Yochai. When the Spirit of Darkness returned to resume its mission, Bar Yochai again blocked its path.
“You dare prevent what God has decreed?!” the Spirit angrily shouted. “Can’t you see that the Light of Torah has gone out, and it is destined to be forgotten? That few can uphold the sacred intent of its precepts?”
Said Bar Yochai: “Heaven Forbid! For the Light of Torah will never be extinguished if even a few are around to carry it, nor will Torah ever be forgotten, for her wisdom and inspiration is everlasting and will continue to shine against all odds and in spite of all impediments. As long as there is but even a single soul who believes this, it shall be so!”
In that moment, the Spirit of Darkness was called back to the Heavens and a great light shone in its place, accompanied by a still small voice that declared: “How worthy are you, son of Yochai, in that God decrees above and you abolish the decree below” (adapted from Tikunei Zohar, folios 255a-b and Talmud Bav’li, Shabbat 138b).
Back in the Heavenly Realm, the Spirit of Darkness asked God: “Why did you give in to him? He is but flesh and blood!”
Said God: “Because he reminded me of Noah.”
And so, the 33rd day came and went, and there was no more plague. And so, on the 33rd Day of the counting of the O’mer, we celebrate the end of the plague that struck Akiva’s disciples, and we celebrate the man who boldly challenged the Great Force of Darkness and reminded God, so to speak, of Noah, that all it takes to keep the world going is a single heart that believes, a single spark of hope, a single act of relentless chutzpah like the audacity of Bar Yochai.