We are in the midst of counting the Omer, the 49 days between Passover and Shavuot—a sacred stretch of time that bridges our collective story of liberation with our receiving of Torah. Each evening, we pause and mark another day on this journey. But this is more than just counting days; it is a spiritual practice of counting within.
The Omer offers us a framework for introspection. Just as the Israelites moved from the trauma of slavery toward the promise of the covenant, we too are invited to examine how we move through the world. What habits do we carry from our own “narrow places”? What kind of people do we hope to become as we prepare to stand, once again, at Sinai?
This year, as the world around us continues to feel uncertain and fractured—from the political climate in the United States to the pain and complexity unfolding in Israel—I’ve found deep comfort in the Omer’s invitation to reflect daily. It is a gentle and persistent reminder that growth is a process and that each day presents a new opportunity to act with intention.
During my recent sabbatical, I was gifted with time—time to breathe, to reassess, to listen inward. I pursued certifications in chair and restorative yoga, learned to listen more deeply in interfaith dialogue, and, most importantly, learned to listen to myself. I let my boundaries become more porous—allowing in rest, discovery, and the quiet wisdom that often gets drowned out in the noise of daily life.
This period of rest reminded me of the joy I find in the work I do, the people I serve, and the sacred community we continue to build together. It also taught me that reflection is not a luxury; it is a necessity, especially in a world that so often pulls us away from ourselves.
Each night during the Omer, I follow a chart that aligns the seven weeks with seven spiritual qualities (like chesed—kindness, gevurah—strength, tiferet—balance). On the first day, we reflect on the chesed of chesed—the kindness within kindness. I love a good chart, and this one helps me enter sleep not with anxiety, but with purpose: How can I embody more compassion tomorrow? How can I be softer, stronger, more balanced?
I invite you to join me in this nightly practice. It only takes a few moments, but those moments have the power to center us, to ground us, and to open us. Whether you’re new to counting or this is your 18th year, let this be a time to pause, breathe, and ask: Who am I becoming?
Click here to follow the Omer chart
Click here for an Omer-counting iPhone app!
With hope and reflection,
Rabbi Jodie
