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April 21, 2000/16 Nisan 5760, Vol. 52, No.33
Remember the past, plan for the future
RABBI BRADLEY SHAVIT ARTSON
Special to Jewish News
Live today, forget the cares of the past." So advises a popular poster in the late 1970s, expressing a commonly held American opinion. Rather than spending too much time dwelling in what has already happened, rather than squandering the present by obsessing over the future, we are advised by a steady stream of self-help books and speakers to concentrate on today.
There is much to commend that approach. By living in the present we remember that we must perform deeds of kindness every day, rather than resting on the laurels of yesterday's goodness. By living today we encourage ourselves to spend time with and to express our affection for the people we care about, rather than postponing that warmth for a future that may never come.
In many cases, "live today" is sound advice. But, if taken too far, that guidance reduces human beings to the status of animals. Animals live for the moment. They don't remember the events of an hour ago. Unaware of their own youth or mortality, they take every day as it comes, appreciating everyone for what they are. Animals represent the ultimate in non-judgmental behavior, largely due to their rootedness in the present.
But they pay a high price for that presence. Unconnected to any past, they wouldn't recognize their own mothers or siblings if they passed them on the street. Unaware of the future, they cannot plan ahead to protect themselves from rain, cold, or sickness. Living in the present is as much a trap as it is an opportunity.
During Passover and for the following 50 days, Jewish tradition provides a way for Jews to encompass past, present, and future.
In celebrating the seder, we recreate the past in order to live it fully: "in every age, we should regard ourselves as having personally been liberated from Egyptian slavery." The present is represented by the gathering of family and friends around the seder table and at synagogue services the following morning.
But what of the future?
We bring the future into the present through Sefirat Ha-Omer, Counting the Omer, beginning with the second night of Passover and continuing for the next seven-times-seven nights.
During the biblical period, our ancestors brought the first sheaf (omer) of the barley harvest to the Temple in Jerusalem. Jews were then allowed to eat from the new crop. But the larger significance of the omer is that it connects the liberation from Egyptian slavery at Passover with the gift of the Torah at Mount Sinai on Shavuot. Just as Passover leads to Shavuot, so our freedom from bondage was the necessary precursor to being able to relate to God through performance of the mitzvot (commandments). We have to be free to freely serve God.
The giving of the Torah is a transformation that shapes our present as well as a future goal. Torah is a process of becoming, a standard to inspire our growth. We count the days between Passover and Shavuot to demonstrate our eagerness to receive the Torah yet again.
Always on a journey, we have the opportunity to mold ourselves into something more closely aligned with the divine image of compassion, involvement and love. But to shape ourselves we must know our place of origin and our ultimate destination. Sefirat Ha-Omer provides the pathway for our journey. With the small, incremental steps of every new day, with the recital of the Ma'ariv prayers followed by the counting of the omer each evening, our connection to God and Torah is strengthened and affirmed.
The Mishnah tells us to know where we come from and where we are going: a putrid drop is our origin, and worms our destination. When we limit our perspective to the present, that bitter assessment of our physical limits becomes all too true.
Rabbi Bradley Shavit Artson is the dean of the Ziegler School of Rabbinic Studies at the University of Judaism.
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