In her book The Path of Blessing*, Rabbi Marcia Prager describes the practice of blessing – things, people, moments – as work of the soul. “As we grow in the path of blessing, we open to a more expansive way of being.” I love the sound of that. To me it means being open and aware, curious and compassionate, giving and open to receiving. intentional and spontaneous. Counting the Omer through the sefirot as we did over the past 2 months works the same way.
Last Sunday afternoon I was scheduled to host our community Shavuot celebration in my backyard. As the day approached, the spring rains we desperately needed a month ago finally arrived. I’ve become dubious of forecasts the past few years with more and more storms breaking up as they approach the city. But this time the numbers stayed stable and I postponed our gathering.
A steady drizzle hung around all afternoon and during the hours I would have been getting the space ready for guests, I divided and transplanted perennials instead. It’s one of my favorite things to do and I seized the moment. The rain gained intensity around halfway through the time we would have been together sharing revelations from our Omer journey and stuffing our faces with cheese.
My daughter loves walking in the rain so, later in the afternoon, our family headed out for a soggy stroll. As we splashed around and laughed, I got to thinking: What if rather than canceling we had pivoted to an event focused on the rain? Would folks have been into it? Would the sun have come out – Mother Nature laughing again at our attempts to make plans? What if there had been lightning? And what about the logistics of 30 wet bodies? Okay. We’re not ready for that. Yet.
As I savored the time with my teenage daughter who comes alive in the rain like plants after a dry spell, I felt expansive. These days, if you live for rain and snow – two types of weather that have grown more sporadic in central Ohio – you need to seize the moments when they do arrive. As I contemplated this, I paused to watch the raindrops paint patterns on the creek under the Old Beechwold stone bridge on our first pass and a raging river on the way home, I scrolled back through our Omer journey. I brought to mind the voices we’d heard from and the lessons they each brought to bear on the moment.
I felt overwhelming CHESED for Dan and Cora, for the trees, for my neighborhood.
Gratitude for the GEVURAH I had to drop everything and leave my phone (and rain jacket) at home.
I leaned into TIFERET for the Shehecheyanu moment we were experiencing together.
I summoned NETZACH as my glasses fogged up and my cold wet t-shirt shifted from fun to uncomfortable as it bumped up against my skin.
I experienced the wonder of HOD as I saw a familiar landscape from a different perspective.
I felt the hope of YESOD as I watched my child, disconnected from the devices that enslave her, come back to life.
And I was graced by a sense of MALCHUT – that I had the power to summon more moments like this. And maybe even help others experience them by writing about my experience here and not giving up on the idea of intentionally hosting an event in the rain.
As the faces of our Omer writers passed before me and I felt their energy and ideas ease the chill brought on by an hour in the rain. I’m so grateful for their kavanot this Omer cycle. I hope your Omer journey left you feeling more expansive and may that be for a blessing today, tomorrow, and for those unfolding.
* Our Worship Design Working Group is currently reading Rabbi Prager’s book as part of a lay leadership development initiative with DLTI (Davennen Leadership Training Institute, funded by a Foundation grant from JewishColumbus’ Foundation.