Over here on Jewish time, we’re in the middle of counting the Omer, the seven week time between Passover and our next major holiday, Shavuot.

It has some pretty powerful resonances for this moment, so: thread.

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Agriculturally, it’s abt the barley harvest (Omer can be translated as “sheaf”). Theologically, it’s a time of wandering, fear and uncertainty—the liminal time bw leaving the (terrible, but familiar) Egypt but before receiving Torah and clarity about what moving forward will be.

That certainly describes us now, eh? We have left behind a way of life that was familiar and known, and now we are in this fearful time in the middle, knowing that something will be profoundly different for those of us who make it to the next chapter, but not yet sure +

What that will be, and whether it will be harder, more deadly for us, or, finally, a different kind of freedom than we’ve ever had.

I hope and pray that it is the latter.

And, even more directly, the Omer is considered a time of mourning; during this time, Jewish law prohibits things (weddings, haircuts, listening to music etc) that are usually only forbidden to those in mourning.

he Talmud says that it’s because thousands of the sage Rabbi Akiva’s students died of a plague during this period.

The Omer is a time of plague. Of suffering and loss and pain and fear. Of profound destabilization.

But it’s also possible that the loss we mourn during this time has a different dimension as well.

It’s possible that “many of Rabbi Akiva’s students died of the plague” was Rabbinic code for, “the Bar Kochba revolt against the Roman Empire wasn’t going very well.”

So there is both the layer of plague and institutionalizing mourning practices and the question of standing up to a tyrannical and unjust government—and what happens when resistance isn’t enough.

What are the lessons we can take from this?

We need to mark and name the uncertainty, the fear, and the grief. To honor it and to know that this time and these feelings need to be honored.

That every step in this struggle needs to be honored.

And to remember that we are not alone in the long arc of fighting against unjust governments.

On the 33rd day of the Omer (לג according to Hebrew numerology, pronounced L’g) we celebrate Lag B’Omer—a time of bonfires, first haircuts, and lots of weddings.

They say many of Rabbi Akiva’s students recovered then. Or maybe a battle in the revolt went well.

We have to pause and celebrate the moments of success and relief now, even when things are so hard. We need to seek joy and respite when we can.

And God willing, soon perhaps we can find ourselves at the base of Mount Sinai, ready and able to start a new chapter that can offer us all more hope and justice.