Parsha Emor (Leviticus 21:1-24:23)
By Barrett Holman Leak
SAN DIEGO — I remember the aroma of warm butter and sweet cheese that hung thick in the air in our Lemon Grove home, where Uncle Jay and I were cooking. It was like a comforting warm hug. Even though he’d traded the bustling streets of New York City for California he was clearly a New Yorker – in his accent, the way he walked with swagger, intentionality, and speed, and the way he cooked. His mother Estelle Cohen had given him the gift of her cooking skills and recipes. It was why he was so praised as the chef at Samson’s Deli in the La Jolla neighborhood.
Uncle Jay, a man whose hands moved with the practiced speed and grace of a seasoned chef – honed over the years, was in his element. We cooked together, making blintzes and cheesecake while listening to his Dave Brubeck, Frank Sinatra, Henry Mancini and Miles Davis albums. I told him we were making “cool cuisine.”
I had also told him I would be making the best potato knish in the world. My friend had given me her bubbe’s potato knish recipe, a closely guarded Rothman family secret now passed over to me. Uncle Jay left the kitchen while I focused on meticulously rolling out the knish dough and creating the potato filling.
Finally, the moment of truth arrived. Uncle Jay took a bite of one of my knishes. A hush fell over the kitchen, the only sound was “Take Five” on the stereo and the gentle crunch of the crust. He looked at me, a genuine look of surprise and respect in his eyes. “This… this is something special,” he admitted.
Although it also involved knishes, that is my favorite cheesecake memory. I have had cheesecake on my mind for weeks, looking forward to Shavuot. But I also remind myself daily to stay in the moment, focus on counting the Omer and remember that yes, eventually we will arrive at Shavuot where there will be dairy, plenty of dairy foods.
Today, we are coming into the homestretch of Counting the Omer, our fifth of seven weeks, ended. It is a seemingly simple act that carries profound significance. We’ve moved from the liberation of Passover, the breaking free from enslavement, oppression, and obstacles to self-determination, towards the receiving of the Torah on Shavuot. This journey isn’t just historical; it’s deeply personal and resonates powerfully with the challenges and aspirations of 21st-century life.
In our fast-paced world, dominated by endless notifications, overflowing inboxes, and the constant pressure to be “on,” the very act of counting – of intentionally marking each day – feels almost radical. We live in a culture of instant gratification, where patience can feel like a relic of the past. Yet, the Omer period compels us to slow down, to be present, to acknowledge the passage of time with intention.
This intentionality reflects a broader concept of time management than scheduling. Just as the Torah outlines specific Mo’adim, appointed times for festivals, connection and reflection, we too navigate our lives by marking time with goals, deadlines, and personal milestones. But the Omer invites us to go deeper. It asks us not just how we spend our time, but who we are becoming in this time.
Consider the Jewish value of hitchadshut, renewal. Each day of the Omer presents an opportunity for introspection, for refining our character, for identifying the “Egypts” within ourselves that we still need to break free from. This is a time when we have an opportunity to look within and see where we may have appointed ourselves Pharaoh and become authoritarian and unreasonable. Now is the time for change. You see, this isn’t a passive waiting game for Shavuot; it’s an active process of self-improvement. In a world that often pushes us towards external validation and fleeting trends, the Omer encourages us to look inward, to clean house.
In Parsha Emor read in synagogues yesterday, God commands Moses to say the laws and instructions, including those pertaining to the festivals. This act of divine communication highlights the importance of intentionality and the power of language in shaping our understanding and our actions. As we count the Omer, we are, in a sense, “saying” each day, acknowledging its passing and its potential for growth. We are actively participating in the unfolding of time, rather than being passive recipients.
In the 21st century, our “saying” takes many forms. It is the conscious choices we make about how we spend our time, the values we articulate and live by, and the connections we nurture. Are we “saying yes” to distractions that pull us away from what truly matters? Or are we “saying yes” to moments of reflection, to acts of kindness, to the pursuit of knowledge and understanding – the very essence of what Shavuot represents?
Just as the Torah provides a framework for living a meaningful life, we too are constantly navigating the intricacies of our 21st-century world, seeking guidance, wisdom, and purpose. The journey of the Omer prepares us to be receptive to that wisdom, to be open to new insights, and to form deeper connections with ourselves, with our community, and with something larger than ourselves.
So, as we enter this sixth of seven weeks of counting, let us not just tick off the days. Let us embrace the intentionality of the process. Let us ask ourselves: What have these past seven weeks revealed about myself? What “Egypts” am I still working to leave behind? What wisdom am I preparing to receive?
Shavuot is a reminder that time, when approached with intention and infused with Jewish values, goes beyond management, and it becomes sacred. It is an opportunity to pause, to listen, and to connect with the enduring wisdom that has guided our people for generations. May this time of counting be a time of meaningful reflection and may we all be ready to receive the gifts of Shavuot with open hearts and minds.
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Barrett Holman Leak is a freelance writer based in San Diego.