Counting the *Omer*: What You’re Counting, Why It Matters, and What Happens If You Miss a Day

The tail end of evening prayers, you’ve probably noticed, has sounded a little different these past few weeks: right before the service ends, people in synagogue recite, "Blessed are You, *Hashem*, our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us concerning the counting of the Omer," and then announce the exact day of the *Omer* (in Jewish tradition, the day begins in the evening) — "Today is three days of the Omer," "Today is nine days of the Omer, which are one week and two days," and so on.

So what exactly are we counting? In seven words: the seven weeks leading up to *Shavuot*. From the night after Passover until *Shavuot* is 49 days—seven full weeks. The Israelites, eagerly awaiting the giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, counted those days consistently and, along the way, refined and prepared themselves for that awe-filled day of receiving the Torah.

The source for counting the *Omer* appears in Leviticus 23: "And you shall count for yourselves from the day after the *Shabbat*, from the day you bring the sheaf of waving, seven complete weeks shall there be." Deuteronomy 16 also commands: "You shall count seven weeks for yourself; from the time that the sickle is first put to the standing grain you shall begin to count seven weeks. Then you shall observe the Festival of Weeks to *Hashem* your God, with a measure of a freewill offering of your hand, as *Hashem* your God blesses you."

The name "Omer" comes from the Omer offering (made of barley) that the Israelites brought the day after Passover. "Omer" refers to the measured amount of grain that was offered. And because the Omer offering was brought on the first day of the count, the entire practice is called "*Sefirat HaOmer*".

Counting the *Omer* comes with a lot of practical details. For example: if you forget to count one day, what should you do afterward? Keep counting—but without a blessing. If you missed counting at night but remembered the next morning, should you stop altogether? No. Count in the morning without a blessing, and from that evening onward resume counting with a blessing. If someone asks you at night what day of the *Omer* it is and you haven’t counted yet, can you answer, or would that already count as your official count? Answer, "Yesterday was such-and-such days of the Omer." And so on.

On a deeper level, according to *Kabbalah*, the seven weeks align with the seven mystical attributes—*Chesed*, *Gevurah*, *Tiferet*, *Netzach*, *Hod*, *Yesod*, and *Malchut*—and so do the individual days. For example, the first day of the first week is "Chesed within Chesed," the second day is "Gevurah within Chesed," the first day of the second week is "Chesed within Gevurah," and so on. There’s more to explore here, but this isn’t the place to go into it.

These days of *Sefirat HaOmer* have a celebratory feel, but at least during part of the period (from the start of the count until *Lag BaOmer*) there is also an element of mourning. The reason is the death of 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva during the *Bar Kokhba* revolt. The *Gemara* explains that the plague that struck them was because they did not show proper respect to one another. After that devastating loss, only five students remained with Rabbi Akiva (Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, Rabbi Meir Baal HaNes, Rabbi Yehuda bar Ilai, Rabbi Yosi, and Rabbi Nehemiah).

The mourning practices we observe during those days—culminating on *Lag BaOmer* (or, for some, the 34th day of the *Omer*, depending on several factors), the day of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai’s passing and also the day the plague ceased—include refraining from haircuts and shaving (though some are lenient and shave before *Shabbat*), avoiding weddings, and avoiding instrumental music (vocal music without instruments is permitted), among other customs.

Of course, all of this loses its point if we don’t absorb the core message: we need to treat one another with respect, even when our opinions differ—sometimes sharply. Despite disagreements and different outlooks, we’re one people.