Jewish Practice

Passover marks the moment of leaving — but leaving is only the beginning. The Omer is what comes next: the 49-day journey between the liberation of Passover and the revelation of the Torah, and the long lineage of Jewish wisdom, at Shavuot. This is a journey of freedom from, to freedom for, and we can’t do it alone. We get there through action and through learning, through tending our inner lives and deepening our connections with one another. Both matter. Neither is enough without the other.

Michael Walzer, the political philosopher and author of Exodus and Revolution, captured the enduring power of this journey when he wrote:

"Standing on the parted shores, we still believe what we were taught before ever we stood at Sinai's foot; that wherever we go, it is eternally Egypt; that there is a better place, a promised land; that the winding way to that promise passes through the wilderness. That there is no way to get from here to there except by joining hands, marching together."

And Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks — former Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, whose life's work explored the intersection of Jewish wisdom and the challenges of the modern world — reminded us that the path through the wilderness is always, at its heart, a path of learning together:

"Freedom is a never-ending effort of education in which parents, teachers, homes, and schools are all partners in the dialogue between the generations. Learning — Talmud Torah — is the very foundation of Judaism, the guardian of our heritage and hope. That is why, when tradition conferred on Moses the greatest honour, it did not call him 'our hero', 'our prophet' or 'our king'. It called him, simply, Moshe Rabbeinu — Moses our teacher."

The Deeper Meaning: Freedom Takes Time

Judaism understands something many modern self-help movements miss: liberation is only the first step. Yes, Passover celebrates our freedom from Egypt, from slavery, from oppression. But then what?

You can’t become free overnight. Even when the chains are broken, it takes time to shed the habits, fears, and mindset of bondage. True freedom isn’t just about what you leave behind — it’s about who you choose to become.

The 49 days of the Omer offer a sacred container for this process. Each day of counting is like a step on a path of introspection, healing, and transformation. By the time we reach Shavuot, we’re not just celebrating the giving of the Torah — we’re preparing to receive it with open, intentional hearts.

Before we begin, consider journaling as you reflect on these questions. There are no right answers. Write what's true for you.

1. What is a ritual — Jewish or otherwise — that has brought you genuine joy? It doesn't have to be formal or religious. It might be a Friday night dinner, a song you always sing, a food that means home. What made it meaningful? Who was there?

2. Think about your Jewish journey so far. What moments, practices, or people have felt most alive to you — the times you felt most connected to something larger than yourself? And where have there been gaps, distances, or questions you haven't known how to ask?

3. Have you ever held back from a Jewish experience because you felt you didn't know enough, or didn't belong quite enough? What would it mean to give yourself permission to show up anyway — curious, imperfect, and enough exactly as you are?

4. What do you most want to feel more of in your life right now — joy, connection, meaning, purpose, or something else entirely? How might ritual — even a small, simple one — be a doorway toward that?

5. What are you passing on? To your children, grandchildren, friends, or community — what Jewish memories, values, or practices do you hope will outlast you? And is there anything you wish someone had passed on to you?

Chevruta (also spelled chavruta, havruta, or hevruta) is one of Judaism’s most distinctive and beloved practices: the tradition of learning in pairs. It is both a method and a relationship — a way of studying that transforms both the text and the people who study it.

The word chevruta is built on the root ח.ב.ר (Chet – Bet – Resh), which means “joining” or “belonging”. This single three-letter root branches into an entire family of words, all carrying the idea of being bound together:

• Chaver (חָבֵר) — friend, companion, colleague

• Chevra — society, group of friends, community

• Chavurah — fellowship or study group

• Chevruta (חַברותא) — the Aramaic form, meaning fellowship or companionship in learning

The traditional phrase is to learn b’chavrusa (בְחַברותא), meaning “in partnership.”

Unlike traditional frontal learning where wisdom comes from the teacher, in chevruta the two partners form an interactive, creative teaching-and-learning unit. Each partner taps into innate wisdom and discovers they are indeed teacher as well as student.

In a single root you have friend, society, community, companionship, study partner, and connection. The word chevruta doesn't just describe what two people do together; it describes who they become to each other.

Consider: Who pushes you to think more deeply in your life? Who holds up a mirror to show you your better self?

Before you check your phone. Before your feet hit the floor. Before the day gets loud — Jewish tradition asks you to say two words: thank you.

Modeh Ani is the first prayer of the Jewish day, said the moment your eyes open, while still in bed. It is two lines long. It requires nothing but your breath and your willingness.

מוֹדֶה אֲנִי לְפָנֶיך מֶלֶך חַי וְקַיָם שֶׁהֶחֱזַרְתָּ בִי נִשְׁמָתִי בְחֶמְלָה, רַבָּה אֱמוּנָתֶךָ

Modeh ani l’fanecha, melech chai v’kayam,

shehechezarta bi nishmati b’chemla, raba emunatecha.

I give thanks before You, living and eternal Sovereign,

for You have returned my soul to me with compassion.

How great is Your faithfulness in me.

The word modeh doesn’t just mean “thank.” It can also mean “admit” or “surrender” — an acknowledgment that we are not entirely self-made, that each day is not owed to us but given. And there’s something hidden in the word order: it would be grammatically correct to say Ani modeh — “I thank You.” But it’s reversed: Modeh Ani — thank you comes before I. The prayer reminds us, right at the start, to lead with gratitude rather than self.

The Practice

Tomorrow morning, before anything else, say the words above — or simply say: I am grateful to be here. This day is a gift. That’s it. Do it again the next morning. And the next.

If the language of “Sovereign” or “King” (melech) doesn’t fit you, swap in Ruach (Spirit), or Source, or simply speak to whatever you do believe in. The vessel matters less than the turning toward gratitude.

Three Things

Each morning after reciting Modeh Ani — or in its place — write down three things you are grateful for. They can be tiny. The coffee. The quiet. The text from a friend. Over time, this simple practice rewires the brain’s tendency to scan for threat first, and trains the eye toward the good that is already here.

Share with a friend or chevruta: What is one thing you noticed this morning — something small — that you are genuinely glad exists? What would shift in your day if the very first word you said every morning was thank you?

*Modeh = masculine, Modah = feminine

We know that along with gratitude, we may hold many complicated feelings. This ritual is an opportunity to move through the difficult emotions we carry.

Ingredients Needed:

1. 
   
2. A hearty dose of grief, sadness, anxiety, and/or anger
3. A cup of your favorite warm beverage
4. A tiny vessel, small enough to hold lovingly in your hands
5. A teaspoon
6. A houseplant

Instructions:

Prepare your beverage as an offering of nourishment and comfort for yourself.

Enjoy a few sips. Take pleasure in its warmth, the soothing taste in your mouth. Feel it travel down into your core.

Draw three teaspoons of your potion into the smaller vessel. With each spoonful, conjure what pains you. If it's a really rough day, add an extra teaspoonful, or two, or ten. Fill the entire vessel if needed. Pull as much out as you can.

Hold the tiny vessel with both hands. Sit with it. Breathe. Honor the weight of this emotional potion. Feel all the feelings.

When you’re ready, say to yourself:

From this pain, may something beautiful grow.

Pour your offering into the plant. Thank her for her support, for accepting your feelings. Take another deep breath together.

Repeat daily as needed.