Mishkan Ha'am The Westchester-Riverdale Reconstructionist Group

    Right now in the Jewish calendar, we are marking a sacred period of time known as the Omer.  There are seven weeks from the second night of Passover to the holiday of Shavuot, and the Torah instructs us to count each one of these forty-nine days, first reciting a blessing acknowledging our fulfillment of this obligation, and then, quite simply, saying: today is day one, two, three...&etc.  An "omer" is literally a measure of barley--Passover, in ancient times, coincided with the barley harvest, and so an offering of an omer of barley was brought to the Temple to mark the beginning of this period.  The end was marked with a similar offering of wheat, because by the time Shavuot rolled around it was to be hoped that this grain, too, was ready for harvest.


    Most Jewish holidays combine such an agricultural level of significance with a later, and generally more familiar, mytho-historical level, and that is certainly the case here, too.  Passover is, of course, a commemoration of getting out of Egyptian slavery, and at Shavuot we re-experience what it was like to receive the Torah at Mt. Sinai.  So the Omer is not just the period of time between the gathering in of barley and wheat, but a reenactment of the seven weeks the Torah tells us that the Israelites spent in their initial wandering, between coming through the Sea of Reeds and standing at the foot of the mountain.  


    Tradition teaches us that this should be a period of somewhat somber contemplation.  For students of comparative religion, it's interesting to look at it side by side with Lent, in the Christian tradition, and the Muslim Ramadan.  The Omer is similarly an extended period of concentration through which we prepare ourselves for our holiday of revelation--to receive the Torah once again, a familiar story that we also endeavor to make new for ourselves each year.  It's a time to focus on how we will recommit ourselves, on one level, to our Jewish identities and communities, and, on another level, to what the Torah has to teach us about being a member of the larger human family.


    I know that for me, this year, the notion of a period of contemplation leading up to a transformation that is both familiar and brand new has a lot of personal significance.  As I go through the bittersweet process of saying goodbye to Mishkan Ha'am, as both of us prepare for the experience of a new revelation of Torah through the voices of new congregants and new rabbinic leadership, I am using this time to make sure I have a proper awareness of all of the learning I have done, and all of the relationships I have formed, so that I will never forget what journey has brought me to this new mountain.  I hope you will feel comfortable calling upon me, if you'd like to engage in a similar process.


    However you choose to make use of this time, I look forward to arriving at Shavuot with you in a few weeks, with a clarified vision of what it means to make a commitment to Jewish life, and with a readiness to hear and offer new words of wisdom.