Last year, a few weeks before Purim, I began learning some of the laws and customs connected to the holiday. One of its central themes is that it is the model for Yom Kippur, the day (yom) like (k') Purim. Yom Kippur is the day when we stand before G-d, the day we come clean. There is no food or drink to distract us; our whole day is spent expressing our desire to connect G-d in an honest, meaningful way. But Purim? I mean, come on. How could getting dressed up in costume and drinking all day be at all related to our High Holy Day? Well, on Purim it's said that G-d has his ears wide open to hear and answer our prayers. Kinda funny how we have the opportunity to connect so deeply on a day when we're so busy we barely have time to pray. There's the Megillah reading until late at night, then mishloach manot (gifts to friends) and matanot l'evyonim (gifts to the poor), then the drinking and feasting starts. Before you know it, the sun has set on this penultimate day of relating to the creator of the universe…oops. What's going on? It seems that G-d's teasing us with free front row seat, if we can only get to the show.
There's another show going on right now, it's called Sefirat HaOmer (counting the barley offerings), and it's getting great reviews. When the Temple stood this was the 49 day period of bringing offerings from the first barley crop. Now we recall that counting by offering up, as it were, a different aspect of our character to be put in the spotlight. Chesed: how much do I give, is it too much; Gevurah: how limited or limiting am I; Yesod: how strong is my foundation, and am I flexible. Over the 49 days we go through all the different permutations of the seven main traits. Sounds like an amazing exploration of self, no? Well, once again there's a catch. The omer is always counted from the second night of Passover until Shavuout (the day we got the Torah). In Israel this is always a time when the weather is getting warmer, the flowers blooming, and the minds are wandering to anything other than sitting still and learning Torah.
What's with all these strings attached? If there's a deep way to connect to you, G-d, why do you surround it in all these obstacles? My suspicion is, it has something to do with desire. Right now we're lodged in between the freedom we achieved on Passover and the Truth we're yearning for on Shavuout. When we left the slavery of Egypt, we tore of the mask of limitation that had been concealing G-d's presence in the world. We crossed the sea amidst incredible song and dance, feeling, and seeing G-d in our every step. What happened on the other side? Desert happened. It was hot, we were tired, thirsty, and afraid. Our minds started to drift back to the security of whence we came… "It may have been slavery, but at least we had our food and shelter! Sure, getting this Torah thing sounds like a great idea, but right now I've got more important things to deal with…like survival." The real test came when we were standing at the base of the mountain and G-d popped the question. "Do you want to connect to me via my Torah?" Our response came loud and clear "YES…WE WANT IT!" Did we understand everything G-d was offering? No. But our desire was to connect to it, to find an understanding of it.
I remember when I was learning to ride a bike, my Dad took me to the library, and we sat down with this great book "So, You Wanna Ride a Bike" and we read it together until I felt I was ready to give it a try. Ha Ha. Can You imagine trying to read up on every task we were about to undertake in hopes that doing so would fully prepare us for the job?! (Even Amazon.com doesn't stock "Everything You Need to Know to be a Successful Parent"). We learn by experience. The counting of the omer takes place in the time of "Kayitz" (summer). Closely connected are the words "Keytz" (end) and "Kayatz" (one who gathers things up). In this time of obstacles, we can go the route of "Keytz" and go with the flow. If we find a connection, a few REAL moments, great. If not, it just must not have been meant to be. Or, we can go the "Kayatz" route, and carpe diem.
Torah's a funny thing. It's a very tangible: a big scroll, written by hand, made of natural materials, yet it has no objective existence. That is to say, unless you do it, you haven't done it. It says in Gemara Yevamot that anyone who says he only has Torah, he doesn't even have that. There is no such thing as Torah by itself. Torah is connection, relationship, experience. The great part about that is, a Jew in the world is living Torah everyday. Each time we take another step on our path towards finding truth, we are renewing that vow we took in the desert so long ago. As we step into the spotlight over this next month, may we all be blessed to discover a new offering, a new understanding, a new desire.