Counting the Omer, an ancient custom that was once virtually ignored, is making a comeback in Reform Judaism.  It is a meaningful way to mark time, express gratitude, refocus priorities, and contemplate deeply the meaning and purpose of our existence.  I’ve been doing this ritual for about 9 years now, and each year I find myself longing for the re-connection with myself and with G-d that I experience through this process.  It is so powerful for me that we begin just as we celebrate our liberation from Egypt.

The Hebrew word for Egypt, mitzrayim, means the “narrow or tight place”, and when I begin I am reminded of the narrowness that often enslaves us, and the work I will do to reach an ultimate level of expansiveness.  This process helps me to reach the inner depths to that ultimate goal.  Whatever your personal situation, we all have something that enslaves us, some “tight place” in our lives.  In this time of the Coronavirus Pandemic that has restricted and affected us all, it may be hard to see beyond this one global enslavement. But for some of us, there may be other issues that are affecting us, some that are amplified by the COVID-19 crisis, and others that existed before this all began. It might be a restrictive relationship, a job that stifles our creativity or expression, a health challenge that limits us, a reduction of income, a painful past experience that has left emotional tension in its wake, or something else either in or out of our control that limits our choices, or feels like a limitation to us.  Some of these things may change, and some may always be in our lives.  We can learn how to move away from the tight places in our lives, away from those parts of ourselves that are enslaved, by considering the many gifts we have in our lives.  This journey is about finding a more open space within ourselves where we can fully appreciate all that we have and all that we are, and can feel our connection to each other, to our world and to G-d with humility and thankfulness.

I will use the concept of the sephirot, what I think of as the qualities of G-d that are within each of us, as a framework for the journey.  Each week concentrates on a specific sephira, and each day we consider that sephira in relation to one of the other sephirot.  The sephirot are “mapped” on the human body as well, so you know “where” they are concentrated within us.

We begin with Chesed – Lovingkindness

COUNTING THE OMER – This prayer is traditionally recited between sundown and sunrise of each day. Day one begins after the 2nd night Seder, on April 9, 2020 this year. (I apologize for the delay in getting this blog written, but I only decided to do it after I began my annual ritual this year.)

Day 1: Chesed she b’Chesed

The Blessing (Day 1):
Baruch atah Adonai elohaynu melech ha’olam asher kidshanu b”mitzvotav v’tzivanu al sephirat ha’omer.
Blessed are you, G-D, Source of Lovingkindness, You make us holy through your mitzvot, commanding us to count the Omer.

Hayom yom echad l’Omer.
Today is the first day of the Omer.

Week One – Chesed (Lovingkindness, Compassion, Grace)

Day one – Chesed she b’Chesed (Lovingkindness within Lovingkindness) – RIGHT SHOULDER to RIGHT SHOULDER

Chesed she b’Chesed represents the kind of unconditional love that we all deserve. Sometimes we can be afraid to open ourselves up wide enough for love to enter, but today we will try to overcome that fear to allow G-D’s love to enter us all.  Love is the single most powerful component in life. Love allows us to reach above and beyond ourselves.  Chesed she b’Chesed represents the experience of pure limitless, boundless love. As recipients of sparks of Divine Love, each of us is invited to spread Lovingkindness wherever we go.

We can ask ourselves – How can I spread Lovingkindness through my words, my actions, my decisions, and my attitudes?  How can I inspire others to be more caring to themselves and to each other?

Today we focus in feelings of caring, kindness, and loving witness without boundaries.

Both giving and receiving are necessary parts of sharing Lovingkindness, so we should seek the balance between getting and giving love.

Breathing slowly, take a few deep breaths, and with each breath focus on how you are being sustained at this moment by the unconditional love of G-D.  As you relax into your breathing, imagine a “tight place” within yourself opening and receiving the unconditional love and support of G-d.  As you exhale, try to imagine this dark area opening wide and on the inhale, imagine the space filling with a bright light of love and worthiness. 

November 11, 1918 was the official end of World War I, Armistice Day. In 1938, legislation passed to dedicate November 11^th as Armistice Day, honoring “the cause of world peace.”  In 1954, after the occurrence of other wars including WWII and Korean War, the word “Armistice” was struck from the Act of 1938, substituting the word “Veteran” making November 11^th the day set aside to honor ALL US military veterans from ALL wars.  Unlike Memorial Day, which is meant to remember those killed in battle or from sustained wounds during their military service, Veterans Day is when we honor the commitment and service of every member of the US military, living and deceased, during both peacetime and wartime.

As I stop and consider those who have served our country, I can’t help but wonder of some of the ways we may not have shown our respect and appreciation for them.  So many of the men and women who have given their time and talent to our military are carrying burdens and scars, and unfortunately, we are not always doing our best to help them.  This summer, while wandering through the myriad of vendor fairs in South Jersey looking for craftsmen for our Sisterhood Hanukkah Bazaar, I met a wonderful man who had set up at one of the stalls.  He wasn’t there to sell anything, but to raise awareness of what their organization tries to do.  James Corbett and Dan Lombard founded a non-profit called Project Refit with one goal in mind: to combat isolation to reduce suicide rates among the military and first responder communities.  Their goal is to connect (or reconnect) these men and women with others of similar experiences to give them a community that understands them, somewhere to turn when they don’t feel able to connect in our society.

We spoke at length about PTSD, anxiety, depression and isolation and how they can be magnified among people who are trained to keep moving to complete a mission and “get the job done.”  When the mission ends, even if it’s a success, there may be lots of experiences and feelings that have occurred that the person hasn’t dealt with, and these can crush them from the inside without anyone understanding the damage they have sustained.  I call these the invisible wounds and scars.

I told him how our Sisterhood has been a strong supporter of another group called Heroes to Heroes, and gave him their information to share.  This group is designed to help our veterans, regardless of their religion or faith, who are on a path of self-destruction and possible suicide due to the damage they’ve sustained from moral injury.  The program begins with a 10-day journey to Israel to allow them a way to reengage with their faith and find relief and peace through traveling to this Holy Land where they meet with others like themselves as well as Israeli counterparts to find healing. This gives them a community that they can be honest and open without judgment.

As I spoke with this man at the fair, memories of my own childhood came back to me.  My father is a Vietnam veteran, and I know he has invisible scars, wounds that he never has discussed in depth with me, but damage that has affected him for his entire life.  I remember a lot of times being scared at night by someone banging on our front door at 1 or 2 in the morning, and my dad going down to open our home to a man who was yelling, cursing, and under great distress.  My dad would stay up for hours talking (and often drinking) with this man in our kitchen – sometimes they would get quite loud, sometimes very quiet.  I was too young to fully understand, but inherently I knew that somehow my dad HAD to do this for this man.  As I grew up, I realized that my dad felt an obligation to have our home be a safe place for this young man (they were both still in their 20s.)  My dad was providing peer-to-peer counseling at a time when I don’t even think that term was used, in a country that was not very supportive of the veterans who fought in a war that even they did not necessarily believe in.

I spent more time at this vendor space than I did at any of the other ones, because I wanted to learn from this man more about a part of my world that I do not consistently consider.  As he shared his information with me, I learned that one of the areas they are working on is getting the word out to female military members about their program.  As we explored the reasons why they are having difficulty he told me how there is a worrying trend of an increasing suicide rate among female veterans than that among male veterans (from 2001-2014, 62.4% increase for female veterans vs. 29.7% increase for male veterans.)  He told me how military women often feel the need to keep their feelings even deeper within themselves because they are often experiencing prejudice and negative attitudes from both in and out of the military and they must act as if they are even stronger than their male counterparts.  This continues even after their military service has ended, as they have trained themselves to not allow anything that can be construed as a “weakness” to be seen by others.  The damage that can come from living in this way can seep into so many aspects of life, not just for the individual, but for their family, their community, and by extension, for us all.

I always have tried to show support for those in our military, those who have given up aspects of themselves and their lives to work on my (our) behalf for our country, but I admit I do not think of them often in my day-to-day life.  On this Veterans Day, I encourage you to consider how many of us are carrying invisible scars, and give a moment to recognize that we must thank those who have been damaged and scarred working on our behalf.

Links to articles and websites for more information:

www.military.com/veterans-day/history-of-veterans-day.html

Project Refit (James Corbett & Dan Lombard)

https://www.projectrefit.us/

Heroes to Heroes

https://www.heroestoheroes.org/

Articles on military women & suicide

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-crime-and-justice-doctor/201811/addressing-rising-suicide-rates-among-women-veterans

Articles on military women & PTSD

https://www.ptsd.va.gov/professional/treat/type/trauma_female_veterans.asp

It’s Sukkot, the time to give thanks for the fall harvest, when Jews around the world put up temporary structures at home and at their synagogues to remind them of the fragile dwelling places of our ancestors during their 40-year journey through the desert to the Promised Land.

These sukkot (called booths or huts) that we build are not like the tents we may take with us as we head out to the woods for a weekend camping trip.  These structures are open on at least one side and must be open at the top so you can see the stars through the spaces.  Yes, that means if it’s raining outside, you should be getting somewhat wet inside.  They are not permanent residences, just temporary structures to provide us with a space to gather to eat, sleep and share with others the bounty that we have while being remind of the fragility and temporariness of all we may possess.

Sukkot has always brought to my mind the immigrants of past and present day.  There is a common thread found in all immigrants, no matter what country they have left behind – they all left to find a better life for themselves and for their family – to find the Promised Land.  Always, when I would sit in our family’s sukkah built just feet away from our permanent home on our deck, I would inevitably find myself wondering how much strength and fortitude it takes for those who leave behind what they know.  The streets they grew up on, the friends they made, sometimes the language and the customs familiar to them are all relegated to a past life for them as they take what they can and head out on a path to what they dream will bring them a better life, a life of stability and promise for a future better than the one their prior life could provide.  We all have an ancestor who has done exactly this.  This is a natural experience for humankind – we want to give a stable life to our future generations.  Every land has had immigrants at some point in history come to its shores looking for a safe place to call home.  The United States is not unique in experiencing people wishing to join in the bounty of its land and build a permanent life.

At Sukkot, we are meant to welcome the ushpizin (Aramaic for “guests”) to share a meal with us.  Ritually, we call upon specific ancestors to be our exalted supernal guests (the patriarchs & matriarchs, the male and female leaders & prophets, followed by the royalty of our Jewish heritage) and it is said that these ushpizin will refuse to join in a sukkah that does not welcome the poor.  Each of the chosen guests we call upon represents our ancestors who were themselves uprooted from their home, who themselves were immigrants in some way.  If we are not welcoming to those who are poor and/or are wandering, they will not honor us with their blessing of presence.

As you sit and enjoy a great meal in a sukkah this week, take a moment to consider if you can honestly answer the exalted guests we invite – Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, Leah, Moses, Aaron, Miriam, Joseph, David, Abigail and Esther – when they ask if you are welcoming to the poor, to the immigrant, to the one who is searching for a place to dwell.  May you be blessed to have the ushpizin say yes to you and grace your sukkah with their presence.  It means we are all blessed by you as well.

Rosh HaShanah, the “Head of the Year,” can literally be translated from its root Sh-N-H as the “Head of the Repeat” or the “Head of the Change.”  For me, this year I completely am embracing the translation of CHANGE.

One of the most important things that we as Jews do during the High Holy Days – the Days of Awe – is reflect on the prior year and what we have done that we might have done differently if given the chance.  Rosh HaShanah is when we consider the next year to be “written”, but we are given a time frame to do the deep work to assure that what may be written is what we want it to be.  At Yom Kippur this new year plan is considered to be “sealed.”  For those of us who attend services in the synagogue over the holidays, we will hear this phrase often.  It is the Unataneh Tokef: On Rosh HaShanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed.

We are meant to take these 10 days between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur to take ownership of our deeds, our role in the world, and to make any adjustments in our life so that what is written is what we want to be sealed.  Is the path we are about to take this year the one we WANT to be on?  We are given time to consider the strength of our footing before we embark on the next year’s course.  If we have made atonement for that which we have done wrong over the prior year – our footing is more secure.  If we have made restitution to those we have harmed – our footing is more secure.  If we have removed ourselves from the path we don’t wish to be on, and are looking at a course that we feel is where we belong, regardless of the easiness or the difficulty of the terrain – our footing is more secure.

For my personal role of this time of Aseret Yemei Teshuvah (Ten Days of Repentance), I am looking for how I can be involved in the world in different ways to make change.  Even small alterations, like how I respond to someone, can make big changes due to the nature of a ripple effect, which is the continuing and spreading effects of an action.

Consider for yourself what small steps you may take in the new year that may begin a ripple that can make 5780 a “Year of Change” for yourself, for your family, for our world.

L’shanah tovah tikatevi v’taihatemi.

May you be inscribed and sealed for a good year.
 

Our Sisterhood Book Club just met this past week to discuss a book I admit I would not have picked up in the book store.  For full disclosure, I read (or more specifically, I listen to audiobooks) nowadays as a way of escaping the world, to be entertained in stories far away from my life experiences and my life history so that I can just sink into a different world where things may be a bit calmer, a bit more gentile, a bit more uplifting.  I am confident that the book BENEATH A SCARLET SKY by Mark Sullivan would not have found its way into my cart.

But I am glad that our Sisterhood Book Club presented it to me.  I have been struggling with just observing our world around us, rather than actively working to change that which I can impact, and signs are presenting themselves to me that let me know I no longer want to just watch and lament, but I have a need to act and to be engaged.

Without giving too much away, the protagonist of this book, a historical fiction based on a true story, is a man named Pino Lella who as a young man (a teenager still) is put into situations in Italy during WWII where he finds himself witnessing and participating in some acts of goodness, as well as witnessing extreme atrocities and not being able to stop them.  The effect this has on him, of being an “Observer” troubles him throughout not just the war, but his life.

This makes me consider our current world, and the role I have in it, especially as a Reform Jew.  My mother and I often compare (and contrast) the religions that we belong to and the teachings that they put forward.  We were both raised as Catholics, but at different points in our lives we looked to and committed ourselves to different religions for the guidance and comfort we were individually seeking.  I found mine in Reform Judaism – my mother as a Jehovah’s Witness.  As I learned more about her religion, I was struck most by the contrast between the actions and inactions of each.  I understand now that the word Witness in their name truly means just that – they are watching, they are witnessing, they are observing the world around them. (Yes, this is a simplistic breakdown, but I do not want to get into the details here.)

In comparison, there is my understanding of the Reform Judaism I have followed, that it is not enough to just witness things, to just observe – our Judaism requires that we act.  We must act to not only help our fellow humans, but to change the world around us to make it better for everyone, not just better for ourselves.

This is the struggle our young man in BENEATH A SCARLET SKY grapples with throughout the story.  Of course, being a witness to something is important – to see things, to acknowledge their occurrence, to never forget them.  But as a Reform Jew, I must also act in any way I can to make a change.  One of our primary mandates as a Jew is Tikkun Olam – to repair the world through both acts of kindness as well as through acts of change.

So, to answer the original question – I do not believe observing is enough.  Sometimes, as our protagonist learned, observing is all we can do in the initial moment.  But it should not end there.