Thursday May 18, 2023 28 Iyar 5783 Forty-third Night of the Omer Yom Yerushalayim  הַיּוֹם שְׁלשָׁה וְאַרְבָּעִים יוֹם שֶׁהֵם שִׁשָּׁה שָׁבוּעוֹת וְיוֹם אֶחָד בָּעֹֽמֶר

Counting is something I do frequently - both in big and small ways. I count the years my parents and brother are gone. I count the years since i became a mom. I count the minutes waiting for my daughter to get home when she's out alone.  (I stopped counting birthdays...). I used to count things (Cds in my collection, shoes, purses, etc) , but find that is of less importance to me.  

~Anonymous

Friday May 19, 2023 29 Iyar 5783 Forty-fourth Night of the Omer הַיּוֹם אַרְבָּעָה וְאַרְבָּעִים יוֹם שֶׁהֵם שִׁשָּׁה שָׁבוּעוֹת וּשְׁנֵי יָמִים בָּעֹֽמֶר

My daughter makes me think about the counting of time often - on slow, tough days it is counting down the minutes until her bedtime, but most often, she reminds me how quickly time moves. Time almost freezes during special moments but then somehow the days go by in a flash and my little baby is now an independent toddler. She reminds me to savor the snuggles and count every milestone as a blessing. 

~Laura Roth

Saturday May 20, 2023 1 Sivan 5783 Forty-fifth Night of the Omer Rosh Hodesh הַיּוֹם חֲמִשָּׁה וְאַרְבָּעִים יוֹם שֶׁהֵם שִׁשָּׁה שָׁבוּעוֹת וּשְׁלשָׁה יָמִים בָּעֹֽמֶר

"On January 6, 2018, I officially lived longer than my father.  It is a silly obsession that I have had with this milestone.  Maybe I can trace it back to his own father’s early demise from heart disease, or his bouts throughout his adult life with assaults on his heart, his knees, his prostate, his back, his skin, his lymph nodes and, ultimately, his brain. He was a gaunt and infirm 65-year-old by the time of his last Rosh HaShanah, the start of his final decline, and he was gone before Chanukkah.  He was robbed of the chance to see and influence the lives of his remarkable grandchildren, only a couple of whom have any real memories of him. 

I marvel at my relative longevity when I look in the mirror as I think of him, searching for a glimpse of him in my own reflection.  He shaved his mostly-bald head before it was a thing, and mine is still mostly obscured by tenacious salt and surrendering pepper.  But here I am, anything but gaunt and relatively firm and not feeling anything near the age I imagined 65 would feel like, let alone 70. 

There are great stories to tell about him, and I have told most of them, but here ae two of my favorites. He saved a stranger’s life once as if it were nothing.  Chicago had been pelted with over two feet of snow in a matter of hours, and as he trudged for miles the next day from his business, where he had slept, to the downtown train that would take him home, he caught sight of someone passed out in a snowbank – drunk, from the smell of him. My dad with the bad back picked him up and put him inside a warm apartment house doorway.  He did not consider it remarkable.  Obviously, at 14, I did. 

And then there was the last private conversation I had with him.  After that last Rosh HaShanah, I came to see him hooked up to tubes and monitors in the hospital.  He was barely coherent.  I sat with him for the better part of three days, summoning the courage to say all those things I rehearsed about what he meant to me.  When I could wait no longer, I pulled up a chair next to his bed and asked him if he was afraid to die.  He took a breath and said, “No.  I’m not ready, but I am not afraid.” 

Here was the opening for my speech. “Well, I’m afraid of you dying,” I began.  I did not get another syllable out of my mouth before he lifted himself up, trailing wires and tubes, and wrapped his arms around me.  I never gave the speech. 

For most of his life, he was not particularly demonstrative.  But somehow, this gesture was

quintessentially who he was.  He took care of people – his 37-year-old frantic son and some guy on the street. 

He died at home on a very cold night when, ironically, the furnace died before he did.  I wasn’t there, though by my sister’s account, he seemed to see me in the family tableau in his last moments.  He lived 65 years and 147 days.  On January 6, 2018, I reached 65 years and 148. 

That makes every subsequent day a gift, by my obsessive standard. The career I chose as a

congregational rabbi put me in conversation with lots of people who lived longer than they expected, surviving danger or illness.  For a little while, most of them saw those extra days as moments to caress and time to focus on the really important things in life, eschewing the trivial and negligible.  And then they discovered the blessing of living with less pressure to be so elevated, thankful for the ability to relax back into their semblance of normal, counting for the pleasure of it, not out of fear."

~Rabbi Jack Moline, SPS member and Rabbi Emeritus of Agudas Achim Congregation in Alexandria, Virginia

Sunday May 21, 2023  2 Sivan 5783 Forty-sixth Night of the Omer הַיּוֹם שִׁשָּׁה וְאַרְבָּעִים יוֹם שֶׁהֵם שִׁשָּׁה שָׁבוּעוֹת וְאַרְבָּעָה יָמִים בָּעֹֽמֶר

I am counting down the days until Sutton Summer Camp! I live 10 for 2. (Iykyk)

~Sydnie Henkin, Assistant Director of KNS, Director of Sutton Summer Camp, and Family Center Coordinator 

Monday May 22, 2023 3  Sivan 5783 Forty-seventh Night of the Omer הַיּוֹם שִׁבְעָה וְאַרְבָּעִים יוֹם שֶׁהֵם שִׁשָּׁה שָׁבוּעוֹת וַחֲמִשָּׁה יָמִים בָּעֹֽמֶר

States.  I have always been big on counting states that I have visited.  Does it count if I just passed through?  Do I need to have slept there?  Hmmm.  I enjoy traveling around this country and meeting people for work or pleasure.  I enjoy learning about new places and their history.  I am up to 45!

~Greg Angrist

Tuesday May 23, 2023 4 Sivan 5783 Forty-eighth Night of the Omer הַיּוֹם שְׁמוֹנָה וְאַרְבָּעִים יוֹם שֶׁהֵם שִׁשָּׁה שָׁבוּעוֹת וְשִׁשָּׁה יָמִים בָּעֹֽמֶר

I count the steps I take every day, with a goal of 10,000 per day. Keeping count of my steps has made a huge difference in my daily routine. While ensuring I get some exercise and  movement, it also helps improve the overall quality of every day by helping to reduce stress, to clear the mind and strengthen creative thinking and decision making. 

~Barbara Zinn Moore

Wednesday May 24, 2023 5 Sivan 5783 Forty-ninth Night of the Omer הַיּוֹם תִּשְׁעָה וְאַרְבָּעִים יוֹם שֶׁהֵם שִׁבְעָה שָׁבוּעוֹת בָּעֹֽמֶר

"Just to reflect on the counting of the Omer itself.

Now that we know what is at the end of the counting, we are anticipating revelation…wow, that the people are given the Torah.  

let us continue to Accept Torah; to Give Torah; and as Rabbi Warren Goldstein wrote:

“From that moment on, we had a blueprint for how to live life, how to love life, and how to fulfill our awesome potential”.

~Irene Rabinovitch

An extra count

The Omer count always reminds me of my wedding in 2013. Jonathan and I got married a few days after Shavuot that year, so the Omer doubled as a countdown to marriage.  Of course, it doesn't always correspond to our anniversary on the secular calendar (May 19 if you are planning to send a card :) but every year this ritual reminds me of the excitement, anticipation, and even nervousness we felt as we approached that major milestone in our relationship. Perhaps our ancestors felt something similar as they got ready to receive Torah. 

~Rabbi David Shmidt Chapman