Initially when I wrote this essay, it was as a goodbye, for now. Goodbye to something I have been working on for 49 days. What an odd thing to say, goodbye to a ritual, a habit, what is suppose to be a program of transformation and growth. It seems like only yesterday I bid farewell to Passover 2022–5782, the holiday that celebrates the exodus of the Israelites from slavery, that speaks of freedom and redemption. The holiday where it all begins for the Jewish people, where the journey of liberation from bondage begins and traveling leads eventually to receive the Torah and revelation. But after all this talk of freedom, I sometimes feel like I am still eating matzah. Not the literal matzah, but one of the many interpretations on what matzah has come to symbolize.
Matzah, According to some commentaries, can be seen to have a dual symbolism – it is often referred to as the Bread of Affliction, and it also represents freedom. You might think they are opposite ideas, but they are not. Affliction relates to the struggle within oneself spiritually. That struggle is the point of existence – always striving to rid ourself of “the violent men” in our lives. The relationship between matzah and chametz is a complicated one, too. The evil inclination is symbolized by chamatz, the Hebrew word for bread. 
That is one of the reasons Jewish people do not eat bread during the seven days of Passover. Why do I bring this up? There can be many interpretations of the various symbols and there is much wisdom that can be drawn from the different representations.
As the story goes, the Jewish people were enslaved in Egypt and through a series of unfortunate events (for the Egyptians, that is) the majority of the Israelites, who were willing to go, were led out of bondage by a reluctant Moses, who became the spokesman for God. Some modern day lessons can be woven into the story here. Some may relate to the belief that they have no freedom of choice or action, and let’s face it, being a slave to something or someone can be a tough habit to break. The slave mentality is deviously persistent and many, even after escaping the shackles that bind them, are still bogged down by destructive relationships, negative character traits, spiritual blocks, suffocating job situations, and there are many other poisons that are present that can stifle us. The thing is, as life has shown us again and again, no one is expecting a 180-degree turnaround in a few days. Where can one find the wisdom to overcome a struggle? I believe there are more questions than answers and much can be learned from the wisdom of the sages and the Passover / Shavuot story of that journey, and it is within each of us. For me, it is just that, a journey.
The fact that Passover came and went and that the “situation” of being beholden to something or someone, causes anxiety or presents an emotional trigger still lingers. I have discovered it is quite normal. Even the Israelites — the ones who had witnessed miracles with their very own eyes were still complaining as Moses led them out from Egypt to wander in the wilderness. They didn’t understand. And, I believe that is part of what we can take away from that story as well. Not necessarily the complaint part, although that is a part of struggle, to complain, rather than to try to understand the bewilderment and the fear and anxiety that accompanies change or even the thought of change. Many of the Israelites looked back longingly at their bondage back in Egypt saying “maybe we should turn back…” Have you ever thought to return to someone or something because change was too hard, or too scary? we might also need to consider self-defeating thoughts and our early conditioning, too. People can get used to just about anything. And as terrible as slavery was, the Israelites had simply grown used to their shackles. At least in Egypt, the Israelites knew the enemy. As the Irish proverb goes “better the devil you know.” Something bad, but known, is better than something unknown. The “devil” could be any bad person, place, or thing. Dealing with a bad thing that a person already knows and has faced is preferable to something new and unknown. Since a person doesn’t know much about the new thing, it could actually turn out to be much worse.
And, change and growth is what the exodus story is all about. God took the Israelites out of Egypt to be free, but freedom did not mean they were able to do whatever they wanted. Judaism teaches, or another way to say that, this belief system teaches that freedom is the ability to engage in spiritual growth, to refine oneself as an individual, friend, partner, child, sibling. On Passover, the Israelites were freed, but now is where the real work begins. Notice I wrote "begins" in present tense, although, I am writing about an event, the exodus, that took place over three millennium ago. The idea is I, as well as Jewish people in modernity, have been taught to see ourselves as we were actually there, present with our ancestors. This has also become a part of my journey.
From the second day of Passover, the Torah commands the Israelites to count the 49 days until Shavuot, the holiday celebrating the receiving of the Torah on Mount Sinai. The 49-day count is referred to as Sefirat Ha’Omer, or the “Counting of the Omer.” Omer means “barley sheaf,” and refers to the sacrificial offering of the barley meal which is unique to the holiday of Shavuot, and it was brought to the Temple on the second day of Passover.
Jewish mystics (those who adhere to the mystical belief known as Kabbalah) explain that each day of the Omer corresponds to one of the 49 traits of the heart — kindness, strength, beauty, just to name a few. Each day, the commandment of counting the days pushes the individual to engage in self-reflection and spiritual refinement of the day’s particular trait.
We, or I, in this instance, were being forced to recognize our potential and re-sensitize ourselves to the beauty of freedom. I am not wild about the term ”forced” and I will go with it, somewhat reluctantlymfor now.
The mitzvah of Counting the Omer teaches that change must be done in small, incremental steps, and must be consistent. The growth that occurs during this time is akin to running a marathon. Life is a marathon, not a sprint, and in the end the race is only against oneself. Those who engage in the count, pace themselves and seek to improve day-by-day until they receive the Torah. Again, stressing the word receive, in present tense, not received. It is not the end, it is the beginning. I am still in process. In this ongoing process of the count, I was encouraged to look deep within myself and work on all of my negative attributes. If I was challenged in the realm of acts of kindness, it was instructed that I go out of my way to do more charitable works. If I was lacking in the area of justice, I was encouraged to hold myself to the highest possible standards in my personal behavior and habits. The beauty of freedom is the individual is in control. That destructive relationship or bad temper, that emotional or spiritual block — that’s exactly why I am doing the work. To learn from it. And so it goes, for all of my traits, the count was designed to fix ourselves between Passover and Shavuot. And only then can we be truly free.
For the last 49 days, I have been counting up the days. Since the second day of Passover, which began on April 16, 2022 and concludes with the holiday of Shavuot. It important to note, I had not been counting down, rather counting up. The Omer is a time of spiritual refinement. A count down is when all that is standing between the person and their goal is a certain amount of days. When the time passes, the goal is automatically achieved. When a person simply counts down the days, they are indicating how much time is left. Counting up represents climbing one step higher each day. Then on Shavuot, they have arrived, right? Not so fast.
Traditionally observant Jewish people view the Torah as freshly received every day of their lives, and approach it and its commandments with appropriate vigor. So, too, some believe they must digest and internalize the lessons of the counting, and the act of counting. It is specifically during this time that a person strives to grow and mature in their spiritual state. The Torah does not allow individuals to become satisfied with their current level of spirituality. Instead it tells the individual to set their goal high, and then methodically strive to reach that goal.
Traditionally observant Jewish people believe the commandments of the Torah are not meant merely to be seen as history, but instead the commandments represent ongoing life lessons. Like all Jewish holidays, Shavuot offers lessons that transcend the religious observance and can be applied to modern life. That is something I enjoy writing about. and, what I found – one of of lessons concerns time. Shavuot suggests a new way to think about time.
Seven weeks after Passover, traditionally observant Jewish people celebrate Shavuot, another holiday of rest. Jewish law, known as Halakha, also open to interpretation, dictates that every seven years, a farmer should allow his land to lie fallow. No planting or harvesting. It is a rest year. A sabbatical year. In the 50th year, after seven 7-year cycles, there is again a rest year, called the Jubilee year. In regards to the Jubilee year, I learned that it is not celebrated at this time in history.
There is also a Kabbalistic significance to the 49 days: the Kabbalists explain that the 49 days that connect Passover with Shavuot correspond to the 49 drives and traits of the human heart. Each day saw the refinement of one of these sefirot, bringing the people of Israel one step closer to their election as God’s chosen people and their receiving of His communication to humanity.
Shavuot, the “Festival of Weeks,” is the product of this count, driven by the miracles and revelations of the Exodus, and achieved by a methodical, 49 step process of self-refinement within the soul. Kabbalah teachers explain that the spectrum of human experience comprises seven basic emotions. Each of the weeks between Passover and Shavuot is dedicated to examining and refining each of these emotions.
Since we are talking about counting days, it is also important to consider counting as a time element and there are at least three ways to measure time.
The Greeks have two words for time: chronos and kyros. Chronos is clock time. It is measured in Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. Kyros is human time. It is measured in milestones and moments.
The holiday of Shavuot introduces a third way of measuring time: relative time. Unlike other holidays, the starting date for Shavuot is not prescribed by the Torah. It is not tied to the new moon or the full moon. It is relative to the start of Passover. We know when Shavuot falls only by “the counting” from the start of Passover.
Time is like an emotion. Some minutes feel like they last an hour. If you have ever sat waiting for a important results of a medical or life-defining test, you know the feeling. Some hours feel like they last just a minute. The time spent with someone getting to leave for a long trip often feels this way. Time is perception, which is why it can be likened to one’s emotions. Time can feel like it’s flying or time can drag based on the circumstances. How a person measures time, therefore, is relative to the emotional experience in the moment.
The culture in this country perpetuates the incessant drive toward productivity and getting things done. This can trap a person into two false beliefs about time: believing that all time is chronos, clock time and that all units of time are equal. There is the saying “everyone gets the same 24 hours in a day.” Technically, that is true. Every person gets 24 hours in a day. If time is considered this way, it can compared to an emotion, and all 24 hours are not “the same.” People feel a range of emotions depending on the circumstances.
I confess, I still wrestle with the idea that life is more than just measurements of chronological time (chronos) or just (kyros), in moments and milestones. Perhaps there is a third option, one that can be measured by one’s growth and by the evolution of one’s soul. That can be a tricky thought.
Here is something else to consider. Do you ever think, “I FEEL like I am behind where I should be.” How does one know when they are behind? A person might believe they are behind because they are comparing themselves to others. But where other people are isn’t the marker for where another should be, especially if each person has their own path? All unhappiness is due to comparison.
The Israelites were not just wandering in the desert for seven weeks, waiting for God to tell them they were ready. They were doing their inner work of refining their souls and preparing themselves to be ready. And so, I believe, I have plenty of inner work to do as well. That’s my matzah. Sometimes I FEEL like I am wandering aimlessly in the desert, off my path. And, the fact is, maybe the desert is my path, right now, that it is part of my journey. Perhaps what I perceive as wandering is simply the way I am living the experiences that refine my soul. How about you? See why that concept that life is only measured in two types of time might be a tricky one. And, if there is more than just chronos, and kyros, how do we work through that idea?
How are we to craft a bridge between chronological time and human time? That’s a bit of a dilemma and a musing,something to think about. Like our emotions, is there a rhythm, or is it more sophisticated than that? I believe the latter, more sophisticated. That’s what I am musing about the counting. The cycles of seven and moreover, the concept of relative time create a new framework to understand time differently. I asked myself: what can I learn from this idea about the cycles of seven? Perhaps chronological time — days, weeks, months, years — all have a rhythm to them. All days are not created equal. All months are not created equal. The years are not all equal. Some are for action and some are for rest. This rhythm of sevens are marked in milestones and moments. Every seven days, seven months, and seven years, are a part of it — we are encouraged to slow down, to step back, and appreciate our efforts. The days, months, and years, specifically those of rest offer me an opportunity to see how far I have come, to check in with where I am going, and to align myself to my path.
Spiritual time and secular time. That understanding, which can be taken from the story of Passover as we journey to Shavuot, or metaphorically speaking, are given a revelation. An understanding that time is neither chronological, at least the way previously measured, which is typically a human understanding. Now I am adding conceptual appreciation – it is spiritual and human. This is how relative time becomes real.
Milestones and moments of human time relative to chronological time is understood by following the rhythm of the cycles of time. Pausing at the sevens — seventh day, seventh week, seventh month, seventh year — to reflect on where we have been and where we are going. That keeps us on our path.
While the counting of the Omer appears to be a chronological journey, and linear in nature, that is true. I have been counting in human time. And, celebrating Shavuot provides me with another perspective. It is not goodbye, and while there is a farewell – that is a revelation. Habits, practices, and rituals like these, whether it’s a count of 49 days, or a counting of steps — as in the 12 steps, or celebrating Shabbat every seven days, or a program which allows a person to be a better version of themself is a journey, they are counting up, not counting down, it is a gift, it’s revelatory. That is what Shavuot means to me.
A special note of appreciation to Renee Fishman, Clayton Sellers, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l, Rabbi Joshua Heschel z”l, chabad.com, aish.com, and a host of other special people and organizations who continue to inspire my journey and who I have travelled with these last 49 days. I continue to learn from them, be inspired by them, and have experienced an ever-deepening understanding of the Counting of the Omer, a perspective of the path from Passover to Shavuot, and a deeper understanding of time and spirituality.
Confessions of a Cowtown Culturalist 
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