Today is the seventh day of the [counting of the] Omer. We know that we number the days between Pesach and Shavuot in response to Leviticus 23:15 "And you shall count from the day after the festival, from the day you bring the Omer, seven complete weeks." The tradition of observing these seven weeks as a period of mourning is less clear.
The Babylonian Talmud asserts that Rabbi Akiba had twelve thousand students, all of whom died in a single period because they did not respect each other. An additional tradition claims that the period in question was the period between Pesach and Shavuot. Only in the post-Talmudic period was the connection made between the death of Rabbi Akiba’s students and the custom of mourning during Sefirah. Throughout the Middle Ages, commentators detailed acts that were to be avoided during Sefirah, including weddings and haircuts. In response to persecutions and the destruction of Jewish communities during the Crusades, minhag books describe even more stringent customs, including a prohibition against wearing new clothes and bathing in warm water during Sefirah. The timing of mourning also varied from community to community. Some communities observed the restrictions of Sefirah from Pesach to Shavuot, excluding only Lag BaOmer. Others ended the restrictions on Lag BaOmer and still others counted the mourning period from the first of Iyyar, ending it on Shavuot.
Our generation, like the ones before us, has seen additional tragedies that support the continuation of a mourning period, specifically the Shoah, which we commemorate on the 27th of Nisan. At the same time, we ought to consider whether seven weeks of mourning, followed in short order by three weeks of mourning between the 17th of Tammuz and Tisha B’Av, totaling approximately one-fifth of the year, are not somewhat excessive as a response to any event or events, no matter how catastrophic. Here the Talmud offers us a cautionary tale. On Baba Batra 60b, the Talmud relates one group’s response to the destruction of the Second Temple.
Our rabbis taught: When the Second Temple was destroyed, many Jews turned to
asceticism, refusing to eat meat or drink wine. Rabbi Joshua engaged in dialogue with them. He said to them, "My children, why do you avoid eating meat and drinking wine?" They said, "Should we eat meat, given that meat was offered on the altar and those offerings have ceased? Shall we drink wine, given that wine was poured as a libation on the altar and those libations have ceased?" Rabbi Joshua said to them, "If so, we should not eat bread, given that the meal offerings have ceased." Perhaps we could manage on fruit? We should not eat fruit, given that the ceremony of the first fruits has ceased. Perhaps we could manage on fruits not subject to the laws of first fruits. We should not drink water, given that the water libation has ceased. The ascetics were silent. Rabbi Joshua said to them, "My children, come and I will teach you. It is impossible not to mourn, for the decree has been enacted, but it is also impossible to mourn excessively, for we do not impose a decree on a community that the majority of its members are unable to bear.... Instead, a man plasters his house, but leaves a corner unplastered. A woman puts on her ornaments, but leaves one off.
After the destruction of the Temple, our rabbis recognized that mourning, which could be overwhelming, had to be restrained, just as rejoicing must sometimes be restrained. In that spirit, we might agree that we need, as a Jewish community, to commemorate the tragedies that have befallen our people, but also need to temper that mourning, lest Jews experience Judaism as a tradition that is obsessed with past persecution, a feeling that I suspect many of us have experienced at one point or another in our lives.
How might we as contemporary Jews recast Sefirah, if we choose not to experience it as a period of mourning? I would suggest that in making such decisions, we should consider the two holidays that bracket the counting of the Omer: Pesach and Shavuot. On Pesach, we commemorate the liberation of Israel from Egyptian bondage. On Shavuot, we remember the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai. Why not view Sefirah as a period of anticipation, a time for meditating on the awesome responsibility that comes with freedom, the responsibility to accept limits on our freedom, to opportunity to bind ourselves through mitzvot to the Creator of the Universe? We already observe Sefirah by studying Pirkei Avot; why not make Sefirah a period during which we contemplate the meaning of being a people whose lives are shaped by Torah?
Our tradition teaches us that mourning is a normal and necessary part of our lives as individuals and as a community. As we observe the mitzvah of Sefirat HaOmer this year, let’s consider the boundaries of mourning and the danger of overmourning. The Psalmist tells us "Weeping may lodge with us in the evening, but the morning brings joy" (Ps. 30). We should experience the Jewish year as a time for remembering our past, but also for celebrating our present and anticipating our future. As we make the journey from Pesach to Shavuot, let us focus on the joy of receiving and living Torah, the privilege of being "a kingdom of priests and a holy people."
Hag Sameakh!