​We began our counting of the Omer Sunday evening, the night of the second Seder. Where does this tradition come from?

The Torah tells us, "You shall count for yourselves from the morrow after the Sabbath, from the day of your bringing the Omer of the waving, seven Sabbaths shall it be."  This sentence gives us the basis for the counting of the Omer between Pesach and Shavuot, a count in which we are now in the midst.  However, there are some difficulties we find in connection with the Omer offering.

First, what does the word 'Omer' mean?  Omer was just a measure, the amount of grain that had to be brought to the holy temple as an offering.  Isn't it strange that this sacrifice should be called by the name 'Omer'? Other offerings have specific names: Pesach, Todah (Thanksgiving), and Shlamim (Peace).  Omer is a measure; why should that be the name of the sacrifice and the basis for the counting?  

Second, what is so crucial about this offering that we tie our counting between Pesach and Shavuot to this offering?

Third, why was the Omer brought on the sixteenth day of Nisan?  This is not one of the special days of Pesach, only the second day. What happened on this date that caused it to be singled out as sacred and special?

The Midrash elaborates on the merit of the Omer offering. Because of it, Avraham was promised the land of Canaan.  In its merit, the Jews were saved in the days of Gideon, Chizkiyahu, Haman, and Yechezekel.  The Omer saved the day.  So, what is so meaningful about the Omer?

The Midrash relates a conversation between God and Moses: :"In the wilderness I provided a daily Omer of manna for each Jew as recompense. Let the Jews now bring for me an Omer offering every year on the sixteenth of Nisan."
We can see, then, that our bringing of the Omer shows our gratitude for God's sustaining our ancestors in the wilderness.  In our generation as well, we must remember that as much as we work and as successful as we think we may be, it is God who gives us bread from heaven as He gave manna to the first Jews. We brought the Omer on the sixteenth of Nisan because we know that the manna stopped falling on Adar seven, the day of Moshe's death.  And the Jews' stockpiling of the manna ran out on the sixteenth of Nisan, some five weeks later.  Therefore, on the day they ran out of manna, they had to bring the Omer.  It took great faith to give away what you have with no certainty about the future.

In our day we count the Sefirah for seven complete weeks and connect it to the Omer offering. The 49 repetitions of the lesson of gratitude that the Omer represents reinforces this important point that we must never forget from where comes our sustenance, both literal and spiritual.  We were saved so many times because of the Omer because in each generation we acknowledge that God is the source of our livelihood.

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

Torah Reading, Leviticus, Chapter 7, verse 11 through Chapter 7, verse 38.

We read about the various sacrifices, an echo of last week’s Parsha, but this time it’s from the point of view of the Kohanim, the Priests who administered the rite of korbanot.

This Shabbat has the special name of Shabbat HaGadol, the Great Sabbath, a designation taken from the last line of the special Haftorah of the day that cites the coming of Elijah, a major, if invisible, guest at each of our Seders.
During this week leading up to Passover, we can spend some time in making our Seders more meaningful than ever. A few suggestions follow. All of them are found in the Haggadah. This little text, I would suggest, is more than just a storybook but a guide that can help us experience the full meaning of Passover and life. So here they are –four ways to prepare for Passover, just by opening the Haggadah.

--Number One: Get rid of all the Hametz in your life. If you open a Haggadah, you'll find that the first thing it instructs us to do is search for all the left-over hametz in our homes and to get rid of it by burning it and relinquishing ownership of it. Hametz, of course, is bread, cake, cookies, cereal and anything that contains a mixture of water and grain that has been allowed to sit for an extended period of time. But more than that, Hametz symbolizes the evil inclination in each of us. It's arrogance and anger, despair and distress. It is all those behaviors that enslave us in our daily lives. Getting rid of hametz, then, is more than spring-cleaning; it's all about renewal and an inner spiritual cleansing of our lives. As you get rid of the physical hametz in your home this week, take the time to work on getting rid of the emotional and social shmutz that hampers your relations with others and makes you unhappy.

--Number Two: Formulate some new questions. Every one anticipates the recitation of the four questions usually by the youngest child at the Seder. But the four questions should be more than a formula. In fact, they are not even questions. They are queries that are supposed to make us curious and inspire us to ask our own questions. The whole point of the Seder is to ask questions - real questions. Nobel Laureate, Isadore Rabi once said that his mother was responsible for making him a great scientist. Each day when he came home from school she used to ask him: 'Did you ask any good questions today?' And the same applies to the Seder and Judaism in general. Take the time this week to compose some questions for your guests, (or for your host if you're attending another Seder). Ask about the significance of the Exodus, what it means to be Jewish, how we can believe in God today, and what our lives mean. Ask questions that will challenge your guests. Ask yourself: Why am I doing this? Why am I here? What can I learn from Passover? And who am I?

--Number Three: Ask yourself whether you're really free. At the Seder we say: "We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt but the Lord took us out with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm." This is a great time to do an inventory of our freedoms. We ought to consider whether we can be completely free if others aren't. And what responsibilities does freedom imply? In an age of cell phones, texts and e-mails are we ever truly free? What does it really mean to be free today?

--Number Four: Prepare for Passover by writing your own Haggadah. Now, before you say - "Hey, what's wrong with the old one," let's look more closely at what the Haggadah says: "Each person is obligated to see himself/herself as if he/she personally went forth from Egypt." The Seder, then, is more than just a story; it is about coming to recognize that we are part of the stories we tell and that we relive the story of the Exodus in our own lives. If we just tell our ancestors story, we have not really celebrated Passover. Mitzraim, Egypt, is not just a place but a state of being. It's often pointed out that the word Mitzraim can also be read "Maytzarim," literally "the narrow straits." If we look back at our lives, we can tell our own story of liberation from the narrow straits of illness, anxiety, fear, or maybe ignorance. We all have a story to tell. We need to share our own story at the Seder and not just our ancestors.

While COVID still affects our lives, I hope that we can commune with some family and friends for the Seders and have truly memorable gatherings as we celebrate the ancient Mitzvah of commemorating our beginnings as a nation and the birth of our freedom. A Sweet Pesach to all!

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

Torah Reading Triennial Portion: Leviticus, Chapter 3, verse 1 through Chapter 4, verse 26.

The Parsha we read this week is from the first book of the third section of the five of Torah, Leviticus, ViYikrah.  The entire book, not just this portion, concerns itself with sacrifices to be offered on the altar of the Mishkan, and later on the altar of the established Bais HaMikdash, the Holy Temple of Jerusalem. Since we no longer include the sacrificial rite as part of our worship of God, we must try to glean lessons from the text that can speak to us in our contemporary times.

"Vayikra el Moshe" –“He called to Moses” -- note that it does not say that God called to Moshe.  The wording in the first verse of Vayikra points us back to the end of Pekudei, which directly leads to the opening verses of this new Book.  The Mishkan was covered with The Cloud...and Moshe was (temporarily) incapable of communicating with God.  Hence, this opening verse of Vayikra picks up where Shemot left off, with God calling to Moshe in order to reestablish their connection. Some commentaries also point out from this first verse that it was only Moshe to whom God spoke directly.  Even when Aharon is around, and even when the Torah says:  "And Hashem spoke to Moshe and Aharon," the method of his "hearing" vastly differed from the way Moshe heard God's voice.

The subject at hand is sacrifices, and the sacrifices played a very important role in allowing an individual to approach Hashem in a way where all his or her senses are affected by the ritual. The donor must perform the mitzvah of laying their hands on the head of the animal, and then performs Vidui, the confession of sins. Both of these are important aspects of the ritual itself of offering a sacrifice.  The person bringing the sacrifice strongly felt the true importance in being able to approach Hashem in this way. This is the reason that some of our Siddurim include prayers that would allow us to return to these Temple services. Our services now have substituted prayer and meditation for the bringing of animals and grains for sacrifice. The goal of either ritual is to allow each individual the opportunity to feel closer to Hashem.

"If any man (Adam) brings an offering."  (1:2).  Rashi, relying on various Midrashim, says that the deliberate use of the word Adam here indicates that just as the first man did not offer a sacrifice of anything acquired by way of robbery (everything was his) so we, too, are commanded that we cannot bring a stolen item as an offering to God.  Commentators have questioned the need for this commandment. It is as if to question who in the world would steal and bring the very stolen item to the Beit HaMikdash as an offering?   However, it could be that a person stole a quite a bit of money or cattle and then decided to give a little bit to charity or for a sacrifice, with the thought that this will atone for all the rest which he or she has kept from the robbery.  Here too, the gates of the Beit HaMikdash are closed to him. We have seen this phenomenon in our day. People who have stolen millions have, at times, donated a portion of their ill-gotten gains to schuls or religious institutions. A famous instance of this involved the Jewish Theological Seminary. When the source of the donation became clear, JTS rejected the donation and removed the donor’s name from its rolls.

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman

Torah Reading Triennial Portion: Exodus, Chapter 37, verse 17 through Chapter 39, verse 21.
Second Torah, Exodus, Chapter 12, verses 1-20.
 
The Parshiyot we read this Shabbat are the final two of the book of Exodus, the second of the five books of the Torah. The subject matter is the construction of the Mishkan, the moveable sanctuary that our ancestors worshipped at during their sojourn in the Wilderness.
 
I found the following D’Var that I wanted to share with you in part, written by Ilana Kurshan:

Torah Reading Triennial Portion: Exodus, Chapter 31,
verse 13 through Chapter 33, verse 11

“I said to them, Whoever has any gold, let them break it off. So they gave it me; then I cast it into the fire, and there came out this calf.” (Exodus 32:24)

We are told about the construction of the Menorah.  It was cast out of a solid piece of gold by an artist who carried a God given vision. The menorah had seven branches with carefully carved petals and flowers along each branch. The carving of the menorah can be likened to Michelangelo’s carving of the statue of David. Michelangelo shared how he looked at the solid piece of marble and chiseled away everything that was not David. In the same way, Bezalel looked at the gold and cut away everything that was not the menorah.

But this week we have a very different image. The Israelites, led by Moses’ brother Aaron, built a Golden Calf. Moses confronts his brother, asking how this could happen. Aaron says that he collected the gold from the people. He hoped that the people would hold on to their valuable gold, thus avoiding the building of an idol. But the people willingly gave Aaron their gold. Aaron claims that he threw the gold into the fire, and the Golden Calf simply emerged on its own. Rashi writes that Aaron cast it into the fire not knowing that this calf would come out. It just happened.

The Golden Calf just happened. There was no will, no vision, and no skill behind it. It was pure happenstance. Aaron did not mean for it to happen. It was out of his control. It is as if the calf created itself. If an event happens by chance, on its own, then nobody is to blame. And one of the fascinating facts of this story is that Aaron is not blamed and not punished. It was an event beyond his control.

There is an important insight here. When something good happens like a work of art, we are willing to give full credit to the artist. When something bad happens like a Golden Calf, nobody is to blame. It just happens. How often do we take credit for the good things we do but take no responsibility for the bad things we do? How often do we say, “it just happened?” We were caught up in events beyond our control. Our genes made us do it. Or our upbringing made us do it. We are victims. “The devil made me do it.” It is not a sin but an illness. It just happened.
I often think of a Midrash about the world’s first murderer Cain, who slew his brother Abel. God asks Cain, where is your brother, and Abel answers, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The Midrash compares it to a thief who runs into the night watchman after committing a robbery. The thief says, “I am a thief, I am simply doing my job. But you are a watchman. You should have done a better job guarding these items. You, the watchman, not me, the thief, are to blame.” In the same way Cain blames God. “You created me. You gave me my evil inclination. God, it is your fault that I killed my brother.”

We live in an age where people avoid blame. Events just happen. But if we are to take credit for the good things we do, we need to accept blame for the bad things we do. If an artist made the menorah, then an artist also made the Golden Calf. Accepting blame is the first step towards true repentance. Aaron was unwilling to accept the blame. He said the Golden Calf just happened. Perhaps if he had accepted responsibility, the Golden Calf would not have become the worst sin of the Israelite’s sojourn through the wilderness.

This Shabbat, we also read from a second Torah about the Red Heifer, the Parah Adumah. It gives the people of the Wilderness the means to achieve ritual purity. This is a reminder that Passover is approaching (as if we needed a reminder) and that we should begin to ready ourselves for it.

Shabbat Shalom שבת שלום.
Rabbi David Grossman