Counting the Omer
The parsha of Emor always falls within a period in the year that it itself describes in its verses, namely, the period of counting the Omer. The mitzvah of counting the Omer is remarkably simple to do, perhaps even disquietingly so. Every evening for seven weeks we count another day in the Omer. Although there are several accompanying passages printed in the siddur which some people recite before and after, the counting itself remains the mitzvah.
The classic understanding of this mitzvah is that counting the days and weeks toward Shavuos expresses our anticipation of the upcoming event of receiving the Torah. Yet, it is possible that this counting also helps to prepare us to receive the Torah. Let us consider two ideas upon which we can reflect that can make this moment more meaningful.
One: Time-Honored Pursuits
The Torah, which we received at Mount Sinai on Shavuos, cannot be mastered in a day. It requires ongoing effort over the course of years and, ultimately, is a lifetime study. If we should approach Mount Sinai lacking this fundamental recognition, we will do the Torah a severe injustice and ourselves a great disservice. A most effective tool in acquiring this mindset is counting the Omer. It is a mitzvah which we readily understand cannot be completed in one day, rather, it is the product of all the days within the seven-week period. Through fulfilling this mitzvah, we are “training” ourselves so that we arrive at Shavuos ready to receive the mitzvah which takes place over the course of all of our days — the study of Torah.
It is fair to say that the pace of life has sped up considerably since the first time we counted the Omer as a nation, making this message more crucial in our time than ever before. We live with a mindset whereby the speed with which something can be accomplished is a hallmark of success. Indeed, for many of the computing tasks our technological devices perform for us, this may well be true. But the things that are important in life take time to accomplish. A momentous Torah idea requires more than a moment to do it justice, and an area of Torah knowledge cannot be mastered without patience, diligence, and consistency. If we try and apply speed as a measure of success, we risk finding ourselves some point down the line bewildered and confused as to how we did not absorb or retain as much as we thought we would: “It looked so easy when my thumb drive was merrily being speed-fed information, how come it didn’t work for me?”
When we take a moment each evening to count the Omer, let us reflect on the fact that we are thereby recalibrating our mindset to embrace the idea that things that matter take time — and they deserve it!
There is an additional message here. When a person actually does recognize the vastness of Torah, it can be rather daunting, perhaps even overwhelming. In this respect, the Omer encourages and empowers us with the idea that each day’s contribution will ultimately lead to the fulfillment of the mitzvah.
The midrash relates that the fool and the wise man enter the beis midrash. The fool says, “There is so much here to learn! How can I ever succeed in knowing it all?” and with that, he walks out again, remaining in a permanent state of ignorance. In contrast, the wise man looks around and says, “There is so much to learn — I should get started!” He begins that day, carries on the next day, and over the course of time becomes a Torah scholar.[1]
The wonderful mitzvah of counting the Omer which we fulfilled on the way to receive the Torah will hopefully impart this vision, encouraging us to see the contributing role of all of our days in developing our Torah knowledge.
Two: From Barley to Wheat
The Omer count is bracketed by two flour-offerings that are offered in the Beis Hamikdash, which differ from each other in one key respect. The Omer-offering that is brought on the first day of the count comes from barley, while the Shtei HaLechem-offering brought on Shavuos with the completion of the count is made from wheat. The commentators explain that barley is typically consumed by animals, whereas wheat is reserved for human consumption. The common understanding of this move from barley to wheat is that we begin the count in an animal state, lacking the Torah with which to develop and cultivate ourselves, and are looking to count upward toward receiving the Torah on Shavuos when we can graduate from being animals to becoming people.
The problem is that it doesn’t seem like we are doing that at all. Every day, we say how many days we are “לעומר [or בעומר] — in the Omer.” Why do we mention the Omer as part of the process of counting? Is the Omer, which consists of barley, not the very thing we are looking to move away from? We should say מהעומר — from the Omer!
Rav Shlomo Fisher explains that, in fact, we are not looking to move away from the Omer, for there is an aspect of the animal state that we are specifically looking to preserve. A human connection may sometimes be calculated, reserved, and distant. The devotion and loyalty that an animal has to its master are unconditional and all-embracing; an animal connection is primal and total.[2] Our relationship with Hashem began on Pesach when we followed Him into the desert without inhibition or calculation as to how we would survive the journey. It was a leap of faith, similar to the way an animal unquestioningly follows its master, and it is referred to in the Prophets as “the kindness of [our] youth.”[3]
As we move toward Mount Sinai and our relationship with Hashem takes on an intellectual element, we do not wish to relinquish the primal existential connection; rather, we wish to build on it. As if to say, we are not looking to trade in the Jewish heart we received when we left Egypt for the Jewish mind we hope to receive at Mount Sinai, for a full Torah life requires both of these working at full capacity. Hence, as we count the days from Pesach to Shavuos, we make sure to take the Omer of barley with us! We say that we are so-and-so many days “in the Omer,” as we develop the emotional “barley” relationship for seven weeks before adding the intellectual “wheat” element to it.[4]
[1] Sifrei, parashas Eikev.
[2] In this vein, the Gemara (Chullin 5b) comments regarding the verse in Tehillim (36:7), “Man and beast You save, Hashem,” that this refers to people who are “cunning like man, and make themselves like animals before Hashem.”
[4] Rav Shlomo Fisher, Derashos Beis Yishai, drush 7.