In every generation, every person is obligated to see him/herself as if s/he came out of mitzrayim.
(Passover Haggadah)
From whence do we come, and whither do we go?
Mitzrayim evokes both the literal narrowness of Egypt's fertile strip on either side of the Nile, and the emotional/spiritual narrowness of slavery. It is the latter that each of us is obligated to search for in our own lives. But the "coming out" from narrow places is only the beginning, what we read starting on the first night of Passover. On the second night of Passover, we begin to count the Omer - for seven weeks we will count days and weeks, until we arrive at our next holiday, Shavuot.
The Omer reminds us that leaving mitzrayim is only the beginning. It is like Abraham's Lech Lecha moment. "Get up and go...to a land that I will show you" (Genesis).
In the moment we leave the narrowness - whether it is a way of thinking, or a job that binds us, or a relationship that restricts us - we do not land immediately in a place of certainty and strength.
Wandering in Haifa (c. 2005, RSR) |
The Omer, the counting of days, helps to ground us on the journey. It grounds us with the simple act of counting, but also with Kabbalistic spiritual teachings, and a custom of self-reflection as we count, as we mark the journey.
ארמי אבד אבי
"My father was a wandering Aramean" (Deuteronomy 26:5; Passover Haggadah)
I love the closeness in English of the words wander and wonder. The journey is about openness - about being able to wonder at what we encounter, to find awe.
As we begin this wandering period, this counting of the Omer, I invite awe and wonder. I also invoke compassion in response to the desire to shelter in the known narrowness, and for the desire to know "are we there, yet?!" May the journey be the "there." May we not become stuck in the places where we sojourn.
ארמי אבד אבי
"My father was a wandering Aramean" (Deuteronomy 26:5; Passover Haggadah)
I love the closeness in English of the words wander and wonder. The journey is about openness - about being able to wonder at what we encounter, to find awe.
As we begin this wandering period, this counting of the Omer, I invite awe and wonder. I also invoke compassion in response to the desire to shelter in the known narrowness, and for the desire to know "are we there, yet?!" May the journey be the "there." May we not become stuck in the places where we sojourn.
No comments:
Post a Comment