We are now in the final countdown. (All systems are go.) Now we ask the really tough questions of ourselves. After all the weeks of stretching myself to discover my capacity for love and discipline, endurance and humility, balance and connection, I must ask the question—how does all of this help me to become the kind of person I intend to be?

This is the seventh of the the seven weeks of the Counting of the Omer. Each week is associated with one of the seven lower sefirot—the seven metaphoric vessels through which divinity passes as it enters into the realm of our existence. Week seven is the sefirah of malchut—the divine quality of nobility. (For a chart of the sefirot, see the Resources page.) During this final week before Shavuot, I must pass through the gates in which I ponder my capacity for nobility.

Wednesday is the 43rd day of the Counting of the Omer, and it is the day of chesed within malchut—love within nobility. A leader must be considerate and compassionate toward those who follow. I ask, am I gracious and caring for others in the ways I exhibit leadership? Do I use authority in ways that nurture compassion, or is it just for my own aggrandizement? How is the way I am the leader of my own life marked by self-care?

Thursday is the 44th day, the day of g'vurah within malchut, discipline within nobility. The way we lead people says more about us than our stated leadership goals. A leader who has lofty and worthy goals, but who is undisciplined in the use of authority, can do more harm than good. As a rabbi, and as a human being, I must ask myself if I use restraint when I exercise authority.

Friday, the 45th day of the Omer, is the day of tiferet within malchut, balance within nobility. Is there balance and harmony in the way I lead others?  Am I clear with people about what I want from them?

Shabbat is the 46 day of the Omer and it asks a vital question about the nature of leadership. As I ponder netzach within malchut—endurance within nobility—I wonder if the noble goals I set for myself and for others will last. Do I have the tenacity to make my values and my ambitions real by committing to them over the long haul? A true champion must be ready to put up with setbacks. Will I stick it out through times of darkness, disappointment and despair?

Sunday will be day 47, the day of hod within malchut, humility within nobility. What may seem like a oxymoron is actually the deepest test of nobility. True nobility and true leadership must begin with the realization that it is not about the self. As a leader, I must be able to put my personal interests aside for the sake of something greater.

Next Monday will be the 48th day of the Omer and the day of yesod within malchut, connection within nobility. Does my authority over others keep me distant from them, or does my authority continue to emerge from connection to others?

The last day of the Counting of the Omer—day 49—is the day of malchut within malchut, nobility within nobility. The questions raised on this day are the summation of the previous seven weeks. Do I constantly strive to take the next step in my own development.  How am I taking leadership responsibility for myself in the pursuit of my own goals to achieve nobility?

Before we can accept the joy and the fulfillment of the next day—Shavuot and the giving of the Torah—we must be willing once again to to say na'aseh v'nishma, "we will do and we will listen."  To stand again at the foot of Sinai and receive the Torah, we must be ready to make the life-altering choice to become the champions of our own lives!

People tend to feel a special relationship with the Torah portion they read when they became a  bar or bat mitzvah. For me, that is this week's Torah portion, Parashat Bamidbar.  After this Shabbat, that association will be multiplied for me. My daughter, Talia, will chant from the same portion on Saturday morning as she celebrates becoming a bat mitzvah.

Thirty-five years have gone by since I stood at Temple Emanuel in Rye, New York, in a light blue suit (it was the 70s, okay?), reading from this portion. It seems like a long time ago, but I anticipate that this Shabbat will seem to me like a continuation of the same moment. That is what Torah teaches us. When we live in God's presence, we realize that there is only now—and now includes Creation, Redemption, and the wilderness in between.

There is a classic midrash associated with this Torah portion that, I think, hints at this reality. The midrash tells the story of a prince who travelled from city to city. Each time he approached a new city, the people of that place would flee, treating the prince as a hostile conquerer. Finally, the prince came to a ruined city, one that already had been destroyed in battle and had nothing to lose. The people there greeted him with praise, causing the prince to say, "This city is the best of all the lands. Here I will build a home, here I will live" (Midrash Bamidbar Rabbah 1:2).

The prince, of course, is God who comes to enter our lives. How shall we respond? Shall we say, "I'm too busy" or "I am not ready" or "I don't believe"? Shall we, too, flee at God's approach? Will we, too, run away in fear that we will lose something—habits we cling to, conceits about our rationality, or fantasies about being self-sufficient—if we relent and submit ourselves to a meaning beyond ourselves?

The midrash teaches that it is only when we make ourselves like a ruined city—like a wilderness—that we will let God in. It is only when we realize the emptiness of our self-absorbed habits and thought patterns that we will discover the deepest joy of being a part of a universe that is given to us as a gift.  In that moment, we will see that all moments are one, and that the best thing we can do with our lives is to make it a song of praise for the Source of our being.

Bamidbar (literally, "In the wilderness") is the Torah's invitation to us to enter and become the ruined city. The rabbis found a hint of this in the creative re-reading of a verse to say, "From wilderness, there is a gift" (Numbers 21:18). The Talmud takes this verse as an instruction to "make yourself like a wilderness" to receive the gift of Torah (B. Eruvin 54a). 

On this Shabbat, as I watch my little girl as the baby she was, and as the woman she yet will be, I want to feel that expansive sense of being in that moment of blessing. In such moments, we know ourselves to be a place without time, without boundaries, without anything to lose—a place fit to receive God's presence. 

It is impossible to live a Jewish life without connection to other people. Maimonides went so far to say that the Torah is meaningless if it does not exist in the context of a community. We need each other.

Each week of the Counting of the Omer is associated with one of the seven lower sefirot—divine emanations in which we recognize our own qualities and find the divine within ourselves. In this, the sixth week of the Omer, we enter into the contemplation of the  sefirah of yesod—the divine emanation of connecting and bonding with others. (For a chart of the sefirot, see the Resources page.) 

Yesod literally means "foundation." In the tree of the sefirot, yesod is the funnel which pours the other divine qualities down into the realm of human existence. Through yesod, we are able to connect with all the divine qualities and with other people.

Wednesday is the 36th day of the Counting of the Omer, and it is the day of chesed within yesod—love within connection. The connection between these two qualities is clear. I need to have compassion and caring in order to connect with others. I ask, "Do I allow compassion into all my relationships?  Do I sometimes treat people as a means to an end, or do I appreciate their humanity?"

Thursday is the 37th day, the day of g'vurah within yesod, discipline within connection. Perhaps less obviously, connecting with others also requires the discipline of creating health boundaries. No relationship can endure without the discipline of honesty and integrity to balance the desire to connect.

Friday, the 38th day of the Omer, is the day of tiferet within yesod, balance within connection. A relationship between two people needs balance. Do I make room in a relationship to allow the other person to shine his or her brightest? Or, do I steal the limelight all for myself? Are my relationships balanced?

Shabbat is the 39th day of the Omer and it brings the crucial question of the endurance of my relationships--netzach within yesod. Relationships are hard work. Because I am always changing, and so are the people with whom I am connected, I must always be rediscovering my relationships in order for them to endure. I ask, "Am I willing to do the hard work of maintaining my relationships?  Do my connections to others endure?"

Sunday will be day 40, the day of hod within yesod, humility within connection. It is a day to ask if my ego gets in the way of forming relationships with others.  Do I allow myself to appreciate the needs and desires of others?

Next Monday will be the 41st day of the Omer and the day of yesod within yesod, connection within connection. This is a hard day for me because it forces me to look deeply into the very essence of the way I relate to other people. Are the relationships I form with others real? Am I superficial or distant in places where I should be genuine and committed to others?

The week of yesod ends with the day of malchut within yesod, nobility within connection. On day 42 of the Omer, I contemplate what I do to bring dignity to my relationships with others. Do those relationships enhance my ability to take ownership of my life? Do I draw the highest qualities out of others?

Ready to die twice,
The old man sees the High Spark.
I wish for those flames!

Here, at the end of Leviticus, the Torah gives a list of onerous punishments that will befall anyone who flouts the commandments.  God declares:

If you despise My laws and your soul spurns My rules, so that you do not observe all My mitzvot and you break My covenant, I in turn will do this to you: I will wreak misery upon you — consumption and fever, which cause the eyes to pine and the body to languish; you shall sow your seed to no purpose, for your enemies shall eat it. I will set My face against you: you shall be routed by your enemies, and your foes shall dominate you. You shall flee though none pursues.  And if, for all that, you do not obey Me, I will go on to discipline you sevenfold for your sins. (Leviticus 26:15-18)

This is the kind of passage that sometimes leads people to conclude that the God of the Hebrew Bible is vengeful and cruel. How could a loving and compassionate God threaten people with such misery for disobeying rules?  A deeper reading, though, shows that the passage is not necessarily just a list of punishments to be meted out against transgressors. Rather, it can be read as a description of the natural consequences that follow when people choose to behave in ways that desecrate life.

We are told, when you bring misery to the people around you, do not be surprised when your own life is overtaken by misery—not because of thunderbolts from heaven, but because of the expectations and standards created by your own behavior. When you plant the seeds of enmity all around you, do not be surprised when people around you adopt hostile and aggressive behavior to your own detriment. This is derech eretz, the way of the world, and the Torah has the wisdom to teach us to be wary of it.

Rashi, the great medieval commentator on the Torah and Talmud, adds another insight to our understanding of the passage. Rashi says that the "sevenfold" discipline that will be suffered by malicious evil-doers is a reflection of their own sevenfold descent into sin. He says: 

Behold, there are seven transgressions—the first begets the second, and so on to the seventh—and these are they: 1)  Not to study God’s mitzvot.  2) Not to observe them.  3) To scorn those who do.  4) To despise the sages.  5) To prevent others from observing.  6) To deny the Divine origin of the mitzvot.  7) To deny the existence of God.  

Rashi describes the internal process through which a person can harden his or her heart against wise and good behavior, and how that descent leads to the person's own misery.  It begins with the failure to pay attention to the landscape of a moral universe. People who ignore the wisdom of accepting a moral authority outside of themselves will naturally begin to behave in bad ways and believe that those who behave well are dupes. That conviction will, over time, expand into a hatred of the entire belief system of those who seek wisdom from the teachings of the past, which leads to hatred of the past, and finally to hatred of belief itself.  Rashi describes a slippery slope of psychological constrictions and hardenings that begins with the first intentional transgression.

To understand Rashi's point, think about the mitzvah to rest on Shabbat. Those who choose to ignore Shabbat and who have no interest in learning about it, obviously, will not observe it. Such people tend to justify their choice by viewing the mitzvah merely as an onerous and capricious restriction. That choice, in turn, makes it more difficult for them to open their minds to the possibility that the laws of Shabbat are actually intended for their own benefit—that by mandating rest, the Torah intends to guide them toward happier and more fulfilling lives. 

“Why should I spend my time doing nothing,” they might ask, “when I could spend that time being productive?” They become trapped in a cycle of denying their own spiritual needs. Instead, such people tend to view those who do observe the mitzvah as "superstitious" or "ignorant," and may even come to believe that it is their duty or right to "teach" others not to observe the mitzvah. From that point, it is very likely that such people would deny that the mitzvot comes from a relationship with God and, ultimately, deny the very idea of God. 

Finally, Rashi suggests that even when such people become trapped in misery caused by the failure to recognize that their lives have meaning beyond their own needs and desires, they will become hardened against pursuing their own happiness. Their conviction toward meaninglessness will prevent them from listening to the needs of their own spiritual being. 


Each time a person begins to define a piece of wisdom as ridiculous, it places another brick in the wall that separates them, not just from the one mitzvah, but from entire categories of good life choices.  A person who sees Shabbat as “wasted time” will begin to think of all time as a commodity—a thing that has only utilitarian value—and the possibility of the joy of sacred time will be diminished for that person.  This rejection of whole categories of sanctity is one way of understanding Rashi’s warning against “despising the sages” — despising the very idea of living life wisely.

Within each mitzvah is the possibility that you will listen and grow more connected with the presence of Divinity in your life, or the possibility that you will ignore it, and place one more brick in the wall that separates you from awakening to spiritual experience.  Living with this knowledge helps to transform the mitzvot from onerous obligations into opportunities for celebrating life’s joys.

It's hard to be humble when...you have to spend a whole week thinking about how humble you are (or would like to be). Tuesday night will begin the fifth week of the Counting of the Omer, the week of focus on the divine emanation of hod, humility. 

We've been counting the Omer since the second day of Passover and we'll keep counting for another three weeks as we approach the holiday of Shavuot, the celebration of the giving of the Torah. Each week of the Omer is associated with one of the seven lower sefirot of the Jewish mystical tradition and each day is marked by a pairing of two sefirot. (For a chart of the sefirot, see the Resources page.)

Contemplating hod requires what I'll call a "back door" meditation. I can't really develop my sense of humility by thinking about how wonderful I am when I am humble—that sort of defeats the point of humility! But my sense of humility can be developed and deepened when I go through the psychological back door of experiencing gratitude for the wonders of a world that I did not create, and by appreciating the gifts of other people on whom I depend.

Wednesday is the 29th day of the Counting of the Omer, and it is the day of chesed within hod—love within humility. True humility lowers the ego, but it lifts the soul. On this day, I contemplate how my love for other people lifts me out of selfishness and up toward selflessness. 

Thursday is the 30th day, the day of g'vurah within hod, strength within humility. This is a crucial challenge: How will I discipline myself to experience a quiet humility that enhances my sense of awe, rather than a self-deprecating humility that just makes me feel rotten about myself. It's a fine line that can only be managed by diligent self-awareness, but the difference in outcome is the difference between joy and misery.

Friday, the 31st day of the Omer, is the day of tiferet within hod, balance within humility. In order to be joyful, my humility needs to be balanced with a realistic sense of self-worth and self-respect. Where is the balance point between humility and positive self-image?

On Shabbat, I face the apparent contradiction of netzach within hod—endurance within humility—on the 32 day of the Counting of the Omer. It is the same contradiction I encounter when praying the t'filah. In the Avodah blessing I ask God to restore the divine presence to Zion, and then, immediately, offer the Hoda'ah blessing in which I express gratitude to God for the miracles in  every moment. Which do I believe? Can I demand that God redeem the world from its brokenness while also admitting that every second already is a miraculous gift from God? This Shabbat is a meditation on resolving that paradox.

Sunday will be day 33, the day of hod within hod, humility within humility.  It also is Lag B'Omer, the mystical holiday of transcendence. It is a day to ask if my humility real or just a cover-up for arrogance.  Can I deepen my humility by appreciating the qualities of others?

Next Monday will be the 34th day of the Omer and the day of yesod within hod, bonding within humility. I ask, "Does my humility isolate me from others, or does it draw me close to others?" Does my connection to other people allow me to better appreciate their qualities?

The week of hod ends with the day of malchut within hod, nobility within humility, on day 35. I know that my spirit can soar when I release myself from ego. Does humility release my need to feed my ego and help me to lift myself up to my highest self? That is a paradox, indeed!

This week's Torah portion says, "Do not wrong one another, but be in awe of your God; for I Adonai am your God" (Leviticus 25:17). The rabbis of the Talmud wondered to what such a vague commandment could refer. 

The Talmud comes to the conclusion that this commandment prohibits us from asking a salesperson about an item that we don't intend to buy, and also a warning against telling a convert about the misdeeds of his or her ancestors (B. Bava Metzia 58b). It is a sort of catch-all commandment that prohibits any way that we can use words to cause hurt to another person. "Do not wrong one another" can mean almost anything.

Maybe that's the point. We should live our lives in constant concern for the wellbeing of others and with consideration of the many different ways our words could be hurtful. That's a hard way to live, but I have known people who have gone to extraordinary lengths to do so.

Several years ago, an elderly friend of mine was in a nursing home where she was visited regularly by an aide who would trim her toenails and bandage sores on her feet. My friend was concerned because she saw that the aide was not doing the job well. She worried: should she tell the aide not to cut her nails and risk hurting the woman's feelings (and possibly her own health)? Should she inform the nursing home staff about her problems with this aide and risk that the aide might lose her job? Eventually, she chose to talk with the aide and explained the difficulty to her in a kind and encouraging way, to help her to do her job better.

I think that this is exactly what the Torah has in mind when it says, "Do not wrong one another." It is asking us to go to great lengths to keep ourselves from harming other people, to take the time to weigh the consequences of our words, and to tremble a bit at the responsibility we have to others.  When we do that, we will be behaving in way that reflects the awe of God.

Her face, lined with age,
Has hard beauty through the pain.
But longs for softness.

The fourth week of the Counting of the Omer begins tomorrow (Tuesday) night. It is the week associated with the sefirah of netzach. (There is a chart of the sefirot, the divine emanations of Jewish mysticism on the Resources page).

Netzach is understood as God's quality of eternity—endless, timeless, measureless. It's difficult for us limited and timebound humans to think of ourselves as eternal. However, we do understand how, at our best, we can strive toward God's quality of eternity by  reaching for goals and extending the reach of our lives beyond our temporal limitations.  The human qualities of ambition and endurance are a reflection of the divine quality of eternity. That is how I will think of netazach in this week's reflections on the Counting of the Omer.

Wednesday begins the 22nd day of the Omer, the day of chesed within netzach—love within endurance. It may seem like an unlikely pairing.  How does love inform our ambition and our determination to succeed? Yet, it is relevant to ask myself: How does my ambition derive from caring for others? Is my ambition selfless or selfish? How are my life goals informed by compassion?

Day 23 of the Omer is Thursday, and it is a day for contemplating g'vurah within netzach —strength within endurance. True endurance comes from self-discipline. Is my drive to achieve rooted in my spiritual strength, or just the fear of failure? 

Friday is day 24 and it pairs tiferet with netzach—balance within endurance. Ambition to do what is right can change the world. I ask myself: Do my ambitions match the size of my vision of the world as it should be? Do my personal goals radiate with the splendor of tiferet?

Shabbat will be day 25, netzach within netzach—endurance within endurance. There are difficult questions embedded in this day. How reliable am I? Is my “will power” a power that lasts? Do I persist for what I know is right? 

Sunday brings day 26 and another apparent contradiction. This day is the day of hod within netzach—humility within endurance.  The unlikely pairing, though, yields powerful questions about the very nature of my striving to endure. Does my recognition of my limitations help me to dream big, or does it just give me an excuse not to try? Real humility should be a drive to reach beyond myself to the reality beyond. If my sense of humility just makes me feel worthless, it is actually despair.

Monday is day 27 and prompts reflection on yesod within netzach—bonding within endurance. I ask: Do I invite others to draw strength from my ambition and drive?  Do I build my dreams on my feeling of connection to others?

The week of netzach will end next Tuesday, day 28, with malchut within netzach—nobility within endurance. Is my ambition dignified?  Does it come from the highest place within me, or is it just a reflection of my ego.

We are now getting into some of the most difficult reflections of the Omer period. This week's contemplation of ambition and endurance forces us to look at life goals and the fulfillment of our life's purpose. As we go into the last three weeks, we will face even more challenging questions about our humility, our connection to others, and, finally, how we are to become the hero of our own lives. I wish you joy and fulfillment in joining me on this journey through the 49 gates that will prepare us for receiving Torah on Shavuot!

I'm entering the third week of the Counting of the Omer and continuing to advance through the forty-nine gates that take us from the freedom of Pesach to the acceptance of the covenant of Shavuot. 

The third week takes me through the gates of tiferet, which is associated with the quality of balance, equanimity, and wholeness. Tiferet is the sefirah that rests right at the center. It is the emanation in which the other seven lower sefirot find resolution. (You can find a chart of the sefirot on the Resources page.) During this coming week, I will try to look within myself to think about how all of my diverse parts work together to create a whole person—a person, I hope, at peace with all the conflicting desires and interests that are within me.

Tuesday evening begins the 15th day of the Omer, the day of chesed within tiferet—love within balance. On Wednesday I will meditate on tough questions: Does the love I share with others help me to achieve an inner harmony and balance? Do I allow my love to bring me peace, or is my love imbalanced by too much giving or too much taking?

Thursday takes me through the next gate: g'vurah within tiferet, or discipline within balance. On this day, I consider how my life can shine with splendor when I have the self-discipline to make wise choices.  I ask, do I use my inner strength to bring myself into a place of peace, or am I causing myself needless suffering by pushing myself out of balance? 

Friday is the quality of tiferet within tiferet—balance within balance. Do I even know what balance feels like? How can I develop the memory of peace within my body and equanimity within my soul that I  can recall and return to when I need it?

Shabbat will take me through the gate of netzach within tiferet, which is endurance within balance. This is a hard one. Anyone who has ever taken a yoga class knows that it's not hard to stand on one foot for a few seconds. Mastering a balance pose that can be held indefinitely, however, requires lots of patience, persistance and will. True equanimity must, paradoxically, include striving and hard work, or it will never be achieved. How does my drive and ambition bring greater harmony into my life?

Sunday is also a big challenge for me as I confront the gate of hod within tiferet, humility within balance. My desire for a harmonious life can become a kind of Golden Calf—idolizing my own (dubious) spiritual achievements. This day is the antidote for all of that nonsense. I ask: Is my desire for harmony selfish, or does it help me let go of ego and selfishness? Am I modest in my pursuit of a balanced life?

Monday takes me to yesod within tiferet, bonding within balance.  Seeking balance in life should not be isolating. How do my relationships enhance the peace and balance in my life?

Next tuesday will be the day of malchut within tiferet, nobility within balance. Seeking balance should not be passive. How do I take leadership to bring harmony and balance into the lives of others? How do I become a champion of joyful, harmonious living?