Parshat Emor and the Counting of Holy Days
In Parshat Emor, God issues the commandment of the counting of the Omer. We are commanded to count 49 days or 7 complete weeks starting from the day after Pesach until Shavuot. The Ramban explains that the days between Pesach and Shavuot are not simply a countdown, they are spiritual building blocks. Indeed, each night we count up, so to speak, and build upon the night before. A student once asked his teacher, “why do we count each day aloud?” The teacher answered, “because a day that is not counted is a day that disappears.” Each day counts.
For those of us who have lost a loved a one, how many times did you wish with all your heart that you both had had one more day together? One more word shared between the two of you that only you both understood? One more gentle kiss upon their cheek, one more hug that made you feel your heart was protected from everything, as long as their arms were wrapped around yours?
A 79 year-old patient of mine asked me this week what I thought about the possible risks of him going on one last ski trip with his entire family to celebrate his 80th birthday – would the altitude cause any issues? Would a fall cause a fracture? But what could I say? I could remind him of all those possible risks, but only he could weigh them against the feeling of the crisp air upon his face, the powder snow cushioning a smooth path beneath his practiced skis, the jokes and laughter as he scoots in next to his grandkids on the ski lift, reminding him of the deep joy he felt when his parents took him skiing as a child. One more trip. One more time skiing down the mountain. Each day counts.
And that brings us back to the Omer. The mitzvah is not that the days pass and that each night simply happens on its own. The mitzvah is that we count each night—out loud, intentionally, every single night. We are not passive observers of time, we are partners in giving time meaning, we are partners with God in making the Omer happen. In fact, if we forget to count even one night of the Omer, we are technically not supposed to say the blessing the next night when we pick up the count again. It is as if something essential has been lost – not the day itself, but our awareness of it.
God also commands us regarding Shabbat, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Pesach, Shavuot, and Sukkot and tells Moshe, “Speak to the children of Israel and say to them: The appointed festivals of Hashem, which YOU SHALL PROCLAIM as holy convocations—these are My appointed festivals.” The Torah uses the words Mikra’ei Kodesh, from the root ק-ר-א, to call, to proclaim. The holidays do not simply arrive on their own, they become holy because we call them into being, because we show up, because we choose to mark them, and to elevate them. We are partners with God in making these festivals into holy days.
And so, each and every day counts – not only the holidays, and not only Shabbat, but the quiet, ordinary days in between. Holiness is not only found in grand moments or a few sacred occasions marked on a calendar. Indeed, holiness is built slowly and quietly, in the way we live each day, with awareness of all that we are blessed with and all that we could potentially lose. Perhaps that is what the counting of the Omer is teaching us: That a life is not made of years, it is made of days. A day that is noticed, that is lived with intention, and that is counted— that is a day that becomes holy.
