Counting up through the omer

“There are 525,600 minutes in a year,” goes the famous song from the musical “Rent.” We humans love to count. We count days, weeks, years — marking birthdays, anniversaries and seasons — and in Jewish life, we elevate this habit into sacred practice.

We count the days of the week — six days of chol (ordinary routine) and one day of kadosh (holiness), Shabbat, set apart in time. We count months in our beautifully intricate Jewish calendar, even adding a leap month seven times every 19 years to keep our festivals aligned with their seasons.
Without that correction, Rosh Hashanah might fall in November and Hanukkah in June!

Counting is at the very heart of this week’s Torah portion, Emor. Emor lays out the sacred calendar, detailing the holy days: “the first day of the seventh month” (Rosh Hashanah), “the 15th day of the first month” (Pesach), “the 15th day of the seventh month” (Sukkot), and so on. And right now, we are in the midst of one of the most profound periods of counting in the Jewish year — the Counting of the Omer.

Get The Jewish Chronicle Weekly Edition by email and never miss our top stories Free Sign Up

Emor tells us: “From the day on which you bring the sheaf of elevation offering — the day after the Sabbath — you shall count off seven weeks. They must be complete: you must count until the day after the seventh week — fifty days…” (Leviticus 23:15–16).

Each night, we recite these verses and bless the mitzvah of sefirat ha’omer — counting the omer. What began as an agricultural practice, counting the days from the barley harvest at Pesach until the wheat harvest and first fruits at Shavuot, has become a time of profound spiritual journey.

More than just marking the days, the omer counts the journey of our ancestors from the narrow place of Egypt to the wide, open space of revelation at Sinai. It marks the transition from physical slavery to spiritual freedom, from brokenness to wholeness, from surviving to becoming a people with a shared destiny.

Over time, Jewish tradition infused this agricultural practice with deeper meaning, especially through the lens of Kabbalah.

The Kabbalistic journey
The 16th-century Kabbalists deepened this practice by mapping the seven weeks of the omer onto the seven lower sefirot — the divine qualities or emanations through which God’s presence flows into the world.

These are:
• Chesed (lovingkindness) — generosity, compassion, grace
• Gevurah (strength, discipline) — boundaries, restraint, discernment
• Tiferet (beauty, harmony) — balance, splendor, heart-centeredness
• Netzach (endurance) — perseverance, leadership, determination
• Hod (humility, gratitude) — glory, surrender, radiance
• Yesod (foundation) — connection, bonding, integration
• Malchut / Shechinah (sovereignty, presence) — receptivity, divine indwelling, manifestation

Each week, we’re invited to reflect on how these divine qualities can shape and refine us.

This week: Hod — humility and gratitude
This week, the fifth week of the omer, focuses on hod, often understood as humility. But as I was once taught, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.” At its heart, hod is about gratitude — recognizing the other, and acknowledging the role of the other, including God, in our own growth, success and well-being.

When we say “thank you” — to a friend, a family member, or to God — we are stepping out of our own self-focus and recognizing our interdependence. It’s an act of humility that connects us more deeply with those around us. Moses, for example, models humility not by thinking less of himself, but by recognizing his mission as God-given and by constantly advocating for his people.

Making every moment count
Emor reminds us that time matters — that every day, every moment, can be infused with holiness. The omer teaches us not just to count days, but to make our days count.

As the poet Mary Oliver asked:“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” In Jewish tradition, even when a task feels overwhelming, we are taught: “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” We count our days and our blessings, we count our losses and make their lives count, and we rededicate ourselves to the work of healing the world.

Even when the task seems impossible, we must try, as it says in Pirkei Avot (2:16), “Lo alecha hamlachah tigmor…” — “We are not obligated to complete the task, but neither are we absolved from trying.”

We make every moment, every second, every heartbeat, count. As we count these omer days, may we also count the ways we can bring more kindness, gratitude, and humility into the world. PJC

Cantor Barbara Barnett is a Jewish educator and cantor living in Pittsburgh. This column is a service of the Greater Pittsburgh Jewish Clergy Association.