Sivan Rahav-Meir tells the humorous story in which one of her children brought home a Sefirat Ha-Omer chart from the gan. Each night, one day was supposed to be “scratched off,” like the lottery cards. One year, her daughter scratched off the whole chart all at once, bypassing the whole process of counting the omer. In her childlike innocence, she was very eager for Shavuot (#Parasha, p. 184)!

One of the most frequently questions people ask me in conversations these days is “when will we be able to go back to shul?” This question is perhaps loaded with a general angst to return to normal life, beyond our religious commitments. But for many of us, whether shul attendance is a weekly occurrence or a thrice daily occurrence, shul is normal life, and we cannot wait to go back – there is a child in us that is eager to already get to the end. We especially feel this eagerness as we stand in the middle of the time period between Pesach and Shavuot, during which we fulfill the mitzvah of Sefirat Ha-Omer. This mitzvah appears in this week’s parasha, Emor, where it saysוּסְפַרְתֶּם לָכֶם מִמָּחֳרַת הַשַּׁבָּת מִיּוֹם הֲבִיאֲכֶם אֶת עֹמֶר הַתְּנוּפָה שֶׁבַע שַׁבָּתוֹת תְּמִימֹת תִּהְיֶינָה: עַד מִמָּחֳרַת הַשַּׁבָּת הַשְּׁבִיעִת תִּסְפְּרוּ חֲמִשִּׁים יוֹם וְהִקְרַבְתֶּם מִנְחָה חֲדָשָׁה לַיקֹוָק: “And 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; then you shall bring an offering of new grain to the LORD.” This past Pesach was unusual and extraordinary, and it captured the disruption this pandemic has caused to our lives. As we have counted the omer since Pesach in anticipation of Shavuot, there was a part of me that hoped that over the course of this measured time period, we would be able to leave the bondage of quarantine for the destination of safety. If Pesach was at home, perhaps Shavuot would be at shul. Unfortunately, our anticipation will continue further. What is it, exactly, that we anticipate when we go back? What were B’nei Yisrael anticipating when they counted towards Shavuot?

            First and foremost, Shavuot represents the giving and revelation of the Torah. Sefer Ha-Chinuch explains that the reason for the mitzvah of Sefirat Ha-Omer is to express our yearning to receive the Torah, as this is the essence of our purpose. While one can learn Torah anywhere, and the relocation of shiurim to the cyberworld has made it even easier for some people to participate in shiurim, the in-person experience is to be missed. On Shabbat afternoon, we do not gather for the Pirkei Avot shiur as we have for decades past. We also miss the ultimate public learning experience, Kri’at Ha-Torah. Admittedly, this part of shul is something many of us struggle with. It may feel like a passive experience to hear the Torah being read at us, in a language we may not have mastered, while at the same time, we may sort of feel like we have done this before. However, when performed at its highest level, Kri’at ha-Torah is meant to recreate the Sinai experience. Rama writes in Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayim 146:4) that some are stringent to stand for Kriat Ha-Torah. Mishna Berurah there explains that this is le-hader, to augment the experience so that when we stand and listen to the Torah read, it will feel as if we were standing like our ancestors at Har Sinai. Rabbi Chaim Jachter notes that especially in recent years, many have embraced this custom. He writes, “This is a result, in part, of the influence of Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik and Rav Aharon Lichtenstein who were enthusiastic about the practice to stand during Kriat HaTorah. They often stressed that standing for Kriat HaTorah helps us experience the Torah reading as a recreation of the Divine revelation at Har Sinai, at which time we stood (Devarim 4:11).” While we may be able to read through the parasha at home, the enactment of public Torah readings was to ensure that we would never go too long without Torah – just as we cannot survive three days without water, so too we cannot survive three days without Torah (Bava Kamma 82a). Coming back to shul to hear Kri’at ha-Torah will allow us to not just learn Torah, but to reexperience its revelation, as if it is fresh and reenergizing. It will give us the structure enabling the imbuing of our neshamot with Torah on a regular basis. For men who receive aliyot, the joy of that first aliyah will be extra special. Between Pesach and Shavuot, we count towards Matan Torah; currently, we also count towards the ability to fulfill Kri’at ha-Torah.

            Second, while the Torah does not explicitly connect Shavuot to Matan Torah, we are told that our fifty-day count leads up to the sacrifice of a “new” mincha offering, meaning from new grain. This offering is made from two loaves of bread and serves as the “bikkurim,” the first fruits of the season offered to Hashem. It is hard enough today that we do not get to perform these korbanot, from the word karov, in which we come close to Hashem. We usually suffice with offering our words instead of korbanot, and we offer those words usually in a shul, which is our mikdash mi’at. But today, we do not even have our mikdash mi’at. While there are certain parts about davening privately at home that have been meaningful to me, we miss out on the opportunity to empower ourselves with the power of communal prayer and to say devarim she’bikidusha. We miss out on the opportunity to sing together in praise of Hashem. Between Pesach and Shavuot, B’nei Yisrael counted towards the opportunity to offer their bikkurim; currently, we also count towards the ability to offer our spiritual sacrifice in shul.  

            Finally, Shavuot is the moment in which B’nei Yisrael were truly transformed into a nation, as a meaningful community. There are many religions in the world, but Judaism is not just the sum total of people who follow a particular belief and behavior system. On Shavuot, we became a nation as well. As Senator Joseph Lieberman writes, [“The Israelites] were emancipated in order to serve God by accepting and obeying the Law given by God at Mount Sinai, agreeing to live by the values of the Ten Commandments, and disseminating those values throughout the world. This mission has shaped the Jewish people as a nation and defined its eternal destiny” (emphasis added) (With Liberty and Justice, p. xiv). One of the famous debates between Pharisees and Saducees was when to start counting the omer. The latter disconnect it from Pesach, while we always count from the second night of Pesach. Rav Soloveitchik explains this importance by noting that not all four languages of redemption, on which the four cups of wine at Pesach are based, were completed at the exodus. “The goal of ולקחתי [I will take you to Me as a people] was realized at mount Sinai, not in Egypt” (Chumash Mesoras Harav, Vayikra 23:15). When we count from Pesach and Shavuot, we celebrate the connection between our receiving freedom and our becoming a nation. It is not just that each individual received the Torah, but we are bound together as a people. On the one hand, Judaism is brilliant in its placing much of our religious activity in the realm of the home. Seudot Shabbat, leil ha-seder, lighting Chanukah candles are all carried out at home in many cases. But we are also community, a nation. Shavuot celebrates our receiving the Torah together and the experiences we share together. For many people, as much as shul may be meaningful for Torah and tefillah, shul is where our nationhood is expressed. The social dimension of Judaism is one of its most beautiful. While we have supported each other from afar and while we have gathered online, nothing compares to being together in the same room. We miss kiddushim. Being together matters. Between Pesach and Shavuot, we count towards our becoming a nation; currently, we also count towards our ability to gather as a people.

            One of the classic questions about this process raised by the rabbinic tradition is, why do we count up? Usually, when we are excited for a particular moment, we count down. Once upon a time, people might have put up pieces of paper, each with a number, that can be taken down as each day passes. Nowadays, there’s an app for that. But as far as I know, there’s no “count-up” app. Why don’t we start at 50 with the knowledge that this is precisely the amount of days that it will take to reach Shavuot? Why start at 1 and end at 50?

            Rav Soloveitchik, adapting an interpretation of the Ran at the end of Masechet Pesachim, suggests that after the exodus, Moshe Rabbeinu told B’nei Yisrael that they would receive the Torah at Har Sinai. But they were wondering left something we would all wonder – when is this happening? According to the Rav, they did not know. Moshe Rabbeinu did not tell them. As a result, as excited as they were, they could not count down; they were left to count up. Although we, of course, know when Shavuot will fall, our counting of the omer mimics their count, and so we count up (Mipninei Ha-rav, edited by Rav Hershel Schachter, p. 305).

            We, too, are at a stage where we might be in the mood to “count.” I remember the day and time that I was informed that I would not be going into school (for what we thought might just be a few days as a precaution), and I remember the day and time in which our shul made the final decision to close our doors (for what we thought might just be a couple of Shabbatot). Instinctively, I have been tracking the time since then. If we could all count down to the end of this crisis, we would. I do not necessarily suggest that we actively count the time that we have been away from our precious mikdashei me’at, if only because that can become overwhelming. Instinctively, though, we may be aware of this passage of time. The last part of the story I began with, told by Sivan Rahav-Meir, was that the next year that her daughter came home with an omer chart, she scratched off each day at a time. They learned from this experience that Sefirat Ha-Omer, counting one day at a time in the midst of excitement, is an exercise in patience. We are being asked to display an incredible amount of patience in staying home for this long, as we count the days that will eventually lead us back to shul. Meanwhile, though, B’nei Yisrael knew that they would eventually receive the Torah, even though they did not know when they would receive the Torah. Our chizuk at this time may be that while we do not know when we will be back in shul, as impatient as we may be, we will be’ezrat Hashem go back. The day of Matan Torah turned into a Yom Tov. We, too, will celebrate when we once again encounter Hakadosh Baruch Hu in shul.