Counting Toward Revelation: The Spiritual Journey of the Omer
- Rabbi Amy Hertz
- May 1
- 3 min read
Updated: May 7
There is a midrash, a rabbinic story, that tells us about the extraordinary moment our people received Torah at Mount Sinai. In the story, God lifted up Mount Sinai and held the entire mountain over the Israelites’ heads before they accepted the Torah.
This image is a bit shocking as it suggests to us that perhaps this moment of revelation, a defining moment for our people, was not entirely voluntary. I mean, who would want Mount Sinai held over their heads with the possibility of it being dropped on them if they did not accept God’s laws and precepts?!?
I have always struggled with this reading of this story, and therefore, prefer a more poetic, gentle reading of it. In another interpretation of the same scene, the rabbis explain that God held the mountain over our heads, not forcefully or threateningly, but rather as a display of love. In this reading, the mountain held over our heads is seen as a chuppah, a giant wedding canopy. The scene, thus, is not one of coercion, but rather covenant. Mount Sinai becomes the site where our ancestors – and we – entered into a marriage with God. This moment is thus a sacred union between God and Israel and the Torah is our ketubah, our covenant of love that binds us now and forever.
This image transforms how we understand the journey from Passover, our holiday of liberation, to Shavuot, our holiday celebrating receiving the Torah. Each day that we count from Passover to Shavuot, the period known as the Omer, becomes a spiritual ascent toward revelation, toward relationship, toward the chuppah at Mount Sinai.
On Passover, we recall our physical freedom from Egypt. But physical freedom was only the beginning. True freedom is not just the absence of the chains of bondage. It is the presence of purpose. And that purpose reaches its peak at Mount Sinai. The days of the Omer trace the path between these two moments — freedom and covenant, exodus and encounter with God.
This is emphasized in the fact that during the period of the Omer, we do not count down to Shavuot, but rather we count up towards it. We do not say, “Only 30 days left!” Instead, we say, “Today is the 30th day,” building anticipation, not diminishing it. This upward counting reflects a spiritual climb. Each day is an opportunity for reflection, refinement, and growth. The Kabbalists associated each week and day with divine attributes — kindness, discipline, beauty, endurance — inviting each of us to examine and elevate our inner lives along the way.
Counting the Omer teaches us to treasure time, not as something that slips away, but as something that builds. We count because each day matters. We count because revelation is not a one-time event, but a process, a readiness to receive, slowly cultivated through awareness and intention.
As Shavuot arrives, we mark not only the anniversary of Sinai, but our ongoing willingness to stand together and say, na'aseh v'nishma — we will do, and we will listen.
One of the most powerful ways we express that readiness in our own time is through our Tikkun Leil Shavuot, the tradition of gathering late into the night for communal Torah study on the festival of Shavuot.
This year, we will join together as a Greensboro Jewish community for our night of study on Sunday, June 1, at Beth David Synagogue. We will have the chance to learn with many people from our community as we mark this moment.
In a world that often pulls us apart, Shavuot calls us to gather. We do not receive the Torah alone; we receive it together. The revelation at Mount Sinai was not whispered in isolation — it was thundered in the presence of an entire people. When we come together to learn on Shavuot, we recreate that moment. We remind ourselves that community is not only the context for revelation — it is part of the revelation itself.
As we count each day of the Omer, let us do so with open hearts, preparing not only for the gift of Torah, but for the gift of each other and this beautiful, sacred community that we call home.
Rabbi Amy Hertz
Rabbi Educator
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