. . . and then sometimes it's all about the matzah.

היום ארבעה ימים בעמר
Today is four days of the omer
נצח שבחסד
A day of perseverance in a week of loving kindness

One aspect of eating kosher, especially in an environment where those who eat kosher are very much in the minority, is mindful eating. Yes, there are other reasons for eating kosher and other ways to eat mindfully, but that's the subject for a different essay. My point in bringing this up is that mindfulness is ratcheted up a notch during Passover. You get used to making various food decisions and adaptations of meals during the year, but during Passover the avoidance of chametz brings another layer to think about.

One challenge is making foods that don't involve matzah in any form. It's just not good for the digestion to eat so much of it. But it is the basis of so many recipes, when you add in all the matzah meal that so often is an ingredient.

I happily had my weekly trip to the Civic Center Farmers' Market this morning, and will be cooking with lots of fresh, seasonal vegetables. Tonight it's soup, tomorrow a kugel--which will have some matzah meal, but I will keep it to a minimum.

I'll look at this extra layer of mindfulness as a positive, not something to complain about. It's always good to eat fresh, seasonal foods, liberate myself from the pervasive influence of processed food on our diet.

It's not just about the matzah . . .

היום שלשים ימים בעמר
Today is three days of the omer
תפארת שבחסד
A day of compassion in a week of loving kindness

Now that the seders are over, the tough part of Pesach begins--keeping away from chametz until the 7th or 8th day--depending on your practice and location. But if the focus of the holiday is to tell the story, re-enact leaving Egypt and celebrate our liberation from slavery, what's the point of continuing through the week. And yet, the Torah instructs us even before we leave Egypt that this will be a 7 day holiday:

16 You shall celebrate a sacred occasion on the first day, and a sacred occasion on the seventh day; no work at all shall be done on them; only what every person is to eat, that alone may be prepared for you. 17 You shall observe the [Feast of] Unleavened Bread, for on this very day I brought your ranks out of the land of Egypt; you shall observe this day throughout the ages as an institution for all time. 18 In the first month, from the fourteenth day of the month at evening, you shall eat unleavened bread until the twenty-first day of the month at evening. [Exodus 12:16 - 19]

There seems to be a consensus in the commentaries that the 7th day commemorates the splitting of the Red Sea. That is a teaching I have not heard before, and I'm not sure what to make of it. But those commentaries also mention the intermediate days as days of purification, a preparation to cross the boundary that separates the slavery and oppression of Egypt from the time that marks the road to freedom.

So Passover is not just about the initial escape from Egypt, but honoring that first step into liberation. We need to appreciate the aftermath of that first, somewhat traumatic leave-taking--take a breath and get ready for what comes next.

Sharing ancient traditions

היום שני ימים בעמר
Today is two days of the omer
גבורה שבחסד
A day of strength in a week of loving kindness

One of the things I love about Jewish rituals is the many layers of the traditions brought by different interpretations through the centuries. Rabbi Arthur Green teaches that a bit of oil is left of the Torah from the fingertips of the generations as it passes through their hands. I see this also in our celebrations, as different times and places leave their mark on our holiday customs. The deeper the levels, the further back they go, the more intrigued I become. The most ancient ties, linking us back to our roots before Abraham, are the ones that resonate deeply.

Sukkot is the chag-the holiday-that seems to connect most directly to those ancient, pagan times. We shake the lulav, with its myrtle, willow, and palm branches, and the etrog, that special citron, in six directions--north, south, east, west, up down. We march in a circle asking that higher power to please, save us. However the early rabbis justify these rituals, it seems much like magic incantations that seem to hark back to an era that would predate the lech l'cha--the going out of Abraham.

But it is in Chanukah and, I now realize, Pesach, that our ancient rituals feel in sync with people all over the globe. As all my students can tell you, the lighting of the candles on Chanukah has little if anything to do with the story that is told. It is our tribe's ritual of bringing light into the season of darkness. It's a ritual manifested in Christianity with the lights of the Christmas tree and the Hindus with the fireworks of Diwali.

Just as the ancient peoples needed to bring in light to ward off the darkness, they also needed to mark and give thanks for the rebirth of plants and animals that comes with the spring season, bringing life and sustenance. Eggs as a symbol of new life, rebirth, and fertility permeate both Passover and Easter. In Torah time, the first of Nissan, the month of Passover and Spring is the beginning of the year. In the same spirit, the Persians/Iranian/Afghani celebration of No-rooz/Nowruz on the spring equinox to mark the beginning of their year.

I find strength in the rituals of my people and love being able to use them as an entry into the endless stream of time both forward and back. Seeing the connection with other cultures reminds me that global connections have an existence beyond this digital age, with roots in the ancient world.

Re-Counting the Omer

היום יום אחד בעמר
Today is the first day of the omer
חסד שבחסד
A day of loving kindness in a week of loving kindness

We drank the wine, ate the matzah, maror, charoset, and all the other tasty dishes that come with the Passover seder. We asked the questions, re-enacted the story of liberation from Egypt, Mitzrayim, our narrow place, and find ourselves now on the road to revelation. To guide us on our journey, tonight we start the counting of the omer--49 steps of mindfulness.

You can find the how, when, what, and origin of this ritual in this article by Rabbi Jill Jacobs and in this entry in the Judaism 101 online encyclopedia. For a brief explanation of the Kabbalistic counting method, you can read this article from Rabbi Simon Jacobson.  In the proverbial nutshell, we count 49 days from the second day of Passover to the day before Shavuot, based on the teaching from the Torah--Leviticus 23:15-16. The Kabbalists added a layer of using 7 Sephirot, attributes that can serve as a connection to the Transcendent spirit, giving us a way to internalize the counting. Each day is assigned an attribute; each week is assigned an attribute. So the counting is not just a number, but a unique couplet of awareness.

I will once again take up my practice of blogging the omer, writing a post each day. As I remarked last year, I add to the count with an accounting of my life. This year I realize another obvious connection that I have manage to miss in this context until now. In Hebrew, the word for counting - ספ'רה - and the word for recount, tell a story - לספר – have the same root. And so, it all comes together.



For those of you who participate in the counting, I'm glad once again to count along with you. For those who have never counted, I invite you to come along for the ride. You are all welcome to download the simple chart you see to the left to help you keep track. I will also be tweeting out the count each evening, California time, so feel free to follow me, @mdivah.


On this day of double loving-kindness, remember that the counting, like life, is a process. There are often bumps in the road, and sometimes our journey takes us in a different direction. But the beauty of our traditions, these rituals we have followed for so many centuries, through so many generations, is that they remain for us to turn to, if not this year, the next.