The portion in the Torah dealing with the counting of the
Omer is read on Shabbos (parshas Emor) in the very
midst of the period of counting, a topical issue, and all the
more reason for us to delve into its significance and to
derive lessons from the Master Design in this exalted
command. As the Sefer Hachinuch notes, the essence of
the counting process expresses an avid anticipation, a self-
triggering, a count-up towards the hoped for climax of the
giving of the Torah.
This yearning, which took place at a historic point in time,
did not reflect upon that occasion alone, but on all time,
and upon the general aspect of this anticipation for all of
us.
If we examine the routine of our daily lives, we will realize
that most periods and events are governed by prior
expectation and anticipation towards a particular future
occasion. We fail to focus on the present with the proper
appreciation, with the spectrum of pleasures inherent in it.
Rather, we use the present as a springboard to leap to the
next stage in life for which we are waiting.
During the years of education, we strain to prepare a proper
foundation for our future success, step by step, but always
look forward to the succeeding stage. Our adolescent youth is
geared to preparation for marriage, while marriage and
establishing the long-awaited home of our own, is again
fraught with plans for what-will-be, construction, promotion,
progress, in short, laying the groundwork for the next step
in our lives.
On the spiritual plane, however, we see no feverish activity
of this kind at all. Our spirituality is stagnant, routine,
complacent, dormant, and rarely do we strive very actively to
construct, improve, or grow on a steady basis according to a
definite progressive plan.
These very days should provide that very opportunity for
positive fermentation on the spiritual level. Indeed, the
very fact that we are given an allotted time span of forty-
nine days of waiting and preparation, anticipation and
expectation, should promote this very sense, this awareness,
in our being, and transform it into a permanent acquisition
and trait.
Dovid Hamelech felt an actual physical thirst and lacuna for
spirituality. "My soul thirsts for You; my flesh pines for
You." Where? In the beis midrash after all of his
affairs were taken care of and he could turn his attention to
the spiritual side of life? Not at all. "In desolate land,
weary, without water."
This is a concrete example of the life of the soul which
perfectly parallels everything that is familiar to us from
our material, corporal lives. Whoever studies the chapters in
the book of Shmuel becomes deeply aware of the
conditions under which Dovid suffered while hiding out in the
Judean desert, a location denoted in Tanach as an
"earthenware wilderness" since it was as bone-dry, as bare as
a baked shard of pottery.
A hot, dry, barren land was where Dovid Hamelech lived, with
nothing in his possession to mitigate the harsh conditions
and make them livable. Despite this stark lack of all living
amenities, what does he long for? His soul pines for
spirituality. He thirsted -- but for spiritual things, and
this thirst overshadowed his basic physical need for water,
shelter and other physical necessities.
HaGaon R' Aharon Kotler zt'l dwells on this point
(Mishnas R' Aharon, Part I, p. 160) and says:
"The soul with the body, joined together as they are,
interact in tandem and affect one another accordingly. When a
person pursues the good path and conducts himself according
to the Torah in all areas of reshus, where he is given
free leeway, where he is, nevertheless, required to carry out
the comprehensive commandment of "kedoshim tihiyu -- you
shall be holy," then all of his powers are sublimated to the
good, to a striving for greatness in spiritual matters. This
idea is stated in many verses, like "My soul thirsts for You;
my flesh pines for You." Thirst is a term denoting a physical
need, to illustrate the fact that the physical drives of the
good person are harnessed to the spiritual and become
mobilized for a spiritual goal.
Love for Torah follows the same idea. "How I love Your Torah;
all the day it is my discourse." Joy and jubilation are also
transformed to express spiritual love, like "I rejoice over
Your teachings."
In his love for Torah, the dedicated person finds the
selfsame pleasures which the man-of-the-street pursues
throughout his life, be it the actual physical worldly
pleasures or the imagined pleasures attained through the
acquisition of money, power and honor in this world. As Dovid
Hamelech said, "They are more pleasant than gold and much
purified gold."
Let us focus upon a phrase which R' Aharon slips in through
the context of his words: "And we have actually witnessed
boundless adherence and love for Torah. Truly and wholly with
all one's spiritual powers, even in these latter years."
To whom is he referring, "We have witnessed"? We can only
guess. But we, ourselves, can state that whoever saw R'
Aharon, did, in fact, perceive this in the flesh, in our very
own generation!
*
The counting of the Omer constitutes action in the direction
of developing this physical pining, anticipation, for
spiritual things. We are poised, alert, coiled in expectation
for the occasion of receiving the Torah, which looms up
before us. The tension is spiritual in nature, and extended
as it is over a period of forty-nine days, has the capacity
to deeply instill in us a strong bond to spirituality in
general, to become part of our makeup.
R' Aharon concludes and explains how one can acquire this
precious spiritual acquisition: "Through the study of Torah
and the studied direction of each and every deed to the
service of Hashem, one can attain a portion in [can get a
handle on] love for Hashem and love for Torah to the point
that Torah actually becomes his prime goal, the object of his
primal desires."
Conversely, one who allows himself to be led by material
drives, even in the realm of the permissible, becomes, by
necessity, more material in nature, and his capacity for
spiritual striving lessens accordingly. Chovos
Halevovos states that just like water and fire cannot
coexist, so is it impossible for a human heart to encompass
both love for Hashem and love for mundane things at one and
the same time and place!
