Community Blog

Shabbat Shalom! It is time to count the Omer.

BA-RUCH A-TAH ADO-NAI E-LO-HE-NU ME-LECH HA-OLAM ASHER KID-E-SHA-NU BE-MITZ-VO-TAV VETZI-VA-NU AL SEFI-RAT HA-OMER.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, Sovereign of the Universe, who has sanctified us with commandments, and commanded us concerning the counting of the Omer.

הַיּוֹם  אחד ועשרים יוֹם, שֶׁהֵם שלושה שָׁבוּעוֹת לָעֹמֶר׃

Today is 21 Days, which are Three Weeks of the Omer. (Malkhut within Tiferet). This night of the Omer, we find an authority of compassion. How do we balance the difficult realities of life with appreciating the beauty in the world, and how can we model that hard-won sense of harmony for others? This Shabbat is a time to reflect on how our leadership can spread the glory of the Divine, even amidst a harsh world. 

Spring is in the air, summer is around the corner, and the world feels full of delicious possibilities. Warmer weather and longer daylight hours mean more outdoor activities, which I have always loved, and in these last two years have added importance. The pandemic continues to rage around us, and – not to be too bleak here – it seems we as a society have given up entirely on ever fully containing it. But outdoors means increased airflow, lower likelihood of transmission, increased vitamin D and immune-defenses. I know not everyone can stand the DC summer humidity, but I love the hot sun, and for me, this time of year feels like truly coming alive after a hibernating winter.

Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg calls this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Kedoshim, and especially Lev. 19:16 (“Love your neighbor as yourself”) a “burst of sunlight in a tangled forest,” or in my case, I think of it as the burst of sunshine following a long winter. In this parasha, we are commanded to be holy as HaShem is holy. The laws follow that seem to give structure to that commandment, but many of them are still followed by the refrain, “I am HaShem, your God,” implying the reinforcement of that first commandment of this parasha: following these laws will make us holy as HaShem is holy. Zornberg, in her new book The Hidden Order of Intimacy: Reflections on the Book of Leviticus, points out the aspirational intent of this commandment. We cannot truly be as holy as the Divine, but it is in the effort toward holiness that righteousness lives. Weaving together early 20th century American philosophers with the 19th century misnagid Ha’amek Davar, she frames holiness as something that requires active choice and that enlivens us. “If the laws do not have this enlivening effect,” Zornberg says (p.231), “then they should be read otherwise… Kedusha can be understood as the aspiration toward such vitality. A kind of discomfort is its baseline: a restlessness about all given situations.”

Along with the covid cases themselves, the debate around public health measures also continues to rage. The question is constantly how do we balance keeping ourselves and each other safe while maintaining community, social lives, and mental well-being. To a large extent, I personally find much of the dismissal of public health measures to be a sacrifice of pekuach nefesh on the altar of capitalism, but there are certainly risk assessments that also must be done when considering how to gather a minyan, with or without oneg and kiddush, how to celebrate our Jewish holidays, how to teach our children whose attention spans cannot handle anymore Zoom classrooms. It seems to me a similar balancing act as that which Zornberg sees in this week’s parasha, and requires the very sovereignty of compassion and harmony that is given on this night of the Omer. Which laws merely protect life in the most literal way, and which give life in its fullest potential? And the tension between, the transitional space, the aspiration to maintain both for all in our community – that is where we find holiness. 

This summer, I pray that we are able to find more of that holiness in our communities. That we may find ways to gather safely, to refill our social wells, to breathe unencumbered. I know so many are feeling restless, and desire more activity in their lives. I also know many are still frightened, ill, mourning, or chronically disabled because of this virus. The public health landscape is still not yet what we wish it to be, but we can aspire toward it, just as we aspire toward the Divine path. 

May we find that burst of sunlight, may we settle in the liminal space of true kedusha, something separate from the mundane. May we reconnect to one another, linking ourselves deeply as fellow Jews, as friends, as family, understanding ourselves as part of a greater whole. May this enrich and enliven our souls, and may it remind and encourage us to keep each other safe.