Day 23: Gevurah b’Netzach

GEVURAH and NETZACH

Heroism That Perseveres

A dictionary of modern Hebrew translates gevurah as “heroism, strength, or heroic act”.  Ask any marathon runner, or indeed anyone from Greater Boston, about the gevurah evident in Boston at last year’s (2013)  marathon. People running without hesitation towards the explosions, making tourniquets from their own clothing, lifting heavy steel barriers to free trapped people, carrying the injured, etc. etc, etc.

In a dire emergency, people lose their usual hesitations, doubts, and ruminations.  They act from their G-d given urge to use their strength to help those in peril.  That is gevurah -  strength coupled with the impulse to use it in service to others; in other words, heroism.  Gevurah is built-in to our being.  It is an aspect of G-d manifest in us, and we have seen it in action.

Netzach, perseverance/endurance, is the long term follow-through to gevurah.  Imagine changing from a healthy runner to an amputee in one afternoon with no warning.  After surviving explosions and surgeries, an individual has to find a way to come to grips with the enormous loss and turn towards recovery.  Then comes the long, painful rehabilitation process.

We wonder how people can possibly keep going through all of this.  We wonder if we ourselves could do it. They can do it, they are doing it, and so could we, because the capacity for netzach is within us. This gift from G-d manifests when giving up is not an option, failure is not an option. Read the stories of people injured at last year’s marathon. Their paths are not straight and are full of pain and suffering, and yet they continue. Netzach. 

What could be more powerful than gevurah and netzach combined? Strength used in service of others and continued through whatever arises and for as long as necessary. With these two attributes of the divine in each of us, nothing is beyond us.

Notes added after the 2014 Marathon: Witness the redemptive effect of gevurah combined with netzach.  The display of both strength and endurance by the runners was overwhelming -  a Marblehead woman out in front setting the pace for 20 miles, an American man winning (first time since 1983),  new records being set, the women’s wheelchair race won by an individual  who started life orphaned and disabled in Russia.  Who could help feeling G-d smiling down on Boston with good weather and a tailwind? Last year, evil and destruction entered our sphere. This year, healthy strength, power and endurance were everywhere in flower, and now we can shout Yes! and breathe easier. The human spirit of goodness has prevailed and we can go on.

Day 22: Chesed b'Netzach

This week, we dip into poetry for the week of Netzach, the Divine attribute of endurance, perseverance, and fortitude. This week's reflections were written by Lois Rosenthal, a member of Temple Tifereth Israel in Winthrop, where she teaches Hebrew School and tutors b’nai mitzvah students. Lois is also a member of the CREW Poets chapter of the MA State Poetry Society. She is retired from Santa Clara University, where she held an academic position in chemistry.

As we journey through the week with Lois, may we gain trust in our ability to endure and to persevere, with kindness, with strength, and with dignity.

Rabbi Katy Allen

CHESED and NETZACH

Kindness Endures
by Lois Rosenthal

Every act of kindness

Reflects the essence of G-d

The way the moon

Reflects the light of the sun.

Each exchange of kindness

Endows both giver and receiver

With an inner ray of light.

They remember this

And long to experience it again.

A recipient of kindness

Is inclined to treat another so

And thus learn how strongly

The inner ray pulses with the offering.

One who has given kindness

Will later, though perhaps reluctantly,

Come to accept a kindness

And experience a different quality of light.

And so it is that acts of kindness

Generate further acts of kindness.

Chesed can expand and fill the earth

And, like the sun and the moon,

Light our way forever.

Something To Think About

Acting with kindness is not always so easy.  We each have our own needs, resentments, reactions, anger, etc that can color or even control our every interaction. Plus we have an image to maintain and limitations on understanding each other.  A lot can be learned about kindness by paying attention to people’s interactions.

Day 21: Week 3, Day 7 of the Omer – Malchut of Tiferet

The ultimate expression of Tiferet; Malchut of Tiferet, is the nobility of compassion.

Words like sovereignty, dignity, enhancing status and boosting up – like Brend

an Graham’s lyrics, “You raise me up” – come to mind. Michael Jacobs, in his book, Counting the Omer, asks of this day: do our actions create dignity in those we intend to help?

I am reminded of Maimonides’ Eight Levels of Tzedakah. There are many ways to help people, and many ways to give charity. But what is most noble isn’t charity, it is righteousness and justice. Rambam said this is expressed at its greatest level when we support another by endowing him with a gift or a loan, or  by teaching  her a trade; by finding him employment, or by entering into a partnership with her, to “strengthen his/her hand until s/he need no longer be dependent upon others.” In other words, the greatest nobility in compassion is achieved through enabling others to become self sufficient. 

In many cities and rural areas in our country, the number of people who live in poverty is staggering. Here in Chicago, one out of every six people is food insecure, not knowing where they will find or how they will pay for their next meal. Millions of Americans live in food deserts – neighborhoods in which it is too far to walk to a decent grocery store to get healthy fruits and vegetables. 

The good news is that urban gardens are cropping up (no pun intended!) all over the United States. A wonderful movie called Growing Cities came out last summer, in which two young men, Dan Susman and Andrew Monbouquette, took themselves on a road trip to learn about urban farms all around the country. Both born and raised in Nebraska, they noted that they live in a state which consists of farm after farm, but almost none of those farms were growing food for people to eat. The crops were all corn and soybeans that were processed into feed for livestock, fuel, or the ever-ubiquitous junk food. 

Dan and Andrew drove all over the nation; to Berkeley and San Francisco, Seattle, Milwaukee, to New York where urban gardens took shape on rooftops, to Boston, Michigan, Atlanta, Louisiana, and of course, to Chicago. Gardens grew every fruit and vegetable imaginable. Some added bees and goats to their bounty. In some farms all the food is given away – nothing is sold. Others belong to the workers, others still sell their produce for a profit. Many have additional space that they offer to people to grow their own food, so in cities like Seattle, where there is a high percentage of people living on SNAP aid, fresh food now supplements their diets. 

In Chicago, abandoned buildings and empty lots are being transformed. With more than 20 acres of vacant lots throughout the city, Ken Dunn of City Farm makes agreements with land owners to take this unused land and protect it, beautify it and make useful. John Edel, through using aquaponics to grow food, created 125 jobs in Chicago in his urban farm called “The Plant.” His project is replicable so that it can be implemented by others. 

Whether farming with children in schools, taking up unused land, or pioneering a rooftop farm, there are many ways we can get involved in designing gardens where they are needed, and empower people through education and management to cultivate fresh, healthy food for themselves and their families. 

Action: An urban garden is a grand project, one that you might be up to or one that may seem beyond your capacity. The idea behind it, however, can be pioneered in many different ways. How can you bring forth another’s sovereignty? Perhaps you would like to start a block garden in which each resident shares his or her expertise and grows something specific. You may prefer to get involved in your city’s planning process for sustainability. Perhaps there is a local program in which you can share your expertise with someone who can become more self-sufficient through your training. Whether your outreach is to a community or to an individual, find a way today to ennoble another through your compassion, helping them to feel the dignity of their own sovereignty.

Day 20: Week 3, Day 6 of the Omer – Yesod of Tiferet

The foundation of compassion

Did you ever notice how you walk differently on the beach or the forest than you do in the city? By the sea we usually remove our shoes. We want to feel the sand in our toes. If we walk close to the shore, the sand is firm from the ocean. It holds us up, but our feet sink in a bit, molding the earth with our steps. When the water washes over our feet they sink in even deeper. In the forest, our shoes mold to the earth as well, but less so. We can feel the softness of the soil underfoot, cushioning our steps and inviting our muscles to stretch fully. Contrast this with the concrete of the city. A phrase that comes to mind is, “pounding the pavement.” While this expression is often used to describe one seeking a job, it is an accurate description of what our feet do on concrete. They literally pound into the cement. We either tolerate the contact or seek shoes with soft souls, arch supports and plenty of rubber to keep us from injuring our joints. 

The concrete is unyielding, whereas the earth and the sand are giving, forgiving.

While we look to build the foundations of our homes and businesses out of concrete and iron, which are fixed and rigid, they are rooted into the earth, which is malleable. It is ironic that even these materials come from the earth. We too, come from the earth, as we learn in Genesis 2:7, “God formed the human – adam – from the earth – adamah – Adonai formed the human from the dust of the earth. God blew into its nostrils the breath of life, and the adam became a living being.”

Dust of the earth… This might be sand. Or topsoil. Isaiah 64:8 says: “O Adonai… we are the clay and You are the potter, we are all the work of Your hands.” This theme is repeated in our Tanach and in our High Holy Day liturgy so we remember: We are from sand. Or topsoil, or clay.

So when we are considering the foundation of compassion, we must find a way to be compassionate with that which has formed us; that which composes our very essence. We must find, recover or enhance our compassion for the earth.  

Action: Because the connection between Yesod and Tiferet includes bonding, today is an excellent day to examine the activities in our lives that bind us to the earth. It provides the opportunity to build new links and repair old links. What new links will you forge? What old links might you mend? These may be as old as a memory from a special time at the beach or in the forest, or it may be as ancient as reconnecting with the Source that created you. 

Day 19: Week 3, Day 5 of the Omer – Hod of Tiferet

How do we find and maintain humility in our compassion?

Nature is an abundant force. Those who swim the ocean know just how powerful an undercurrent can be. Those who have witnessed a wildfire jumping across a six-lane freeway can only feel miniscule, as well as terrified, at its indomitable force. In moments like these, how can we help but feel humble? The more intimate our relationship with the earth, the more humbled we become.

Gardening is an exercise in humility. It is wonderful to reap the benefits, and feel like a proud mama when what you plant comes to fruit. But any urban or rural farmer, any backyard grower tastes humble pie each season when the seeds that you diligently planted don’t come up. Or worse yet, they sprout, but then, as in the case of some of the seeds I started indoors last month, there was too much humidity under the clear dome cover, and the seedlings died. Then there are the seeds that come up, like the celery and cauliflower I have planted each year, but never get big enough to harvest, or aren’t strong enough to grow heads. Humbling. 

Let’s not forget the sunflowers that grew from their tiny seeds into majestic, 10 foot tall plants, with stems that looked like tree trunks. Their heads waved in the sunny breeze sporting gorgeous seeds. With a ladder and the hands of neighbors, we covered those heads with nylon netting until the seeds would be ripe enough to pick. And the squirrels ate through every single nylon cover. They had a feast, as represented by the empty sunflower hulls lying in piles on the earth under the now-empty heads. Frustrating, and humbling.

I do very small gardening, but friends of mine have field after field, acre after acre. They share with me the issues of the winter that was too warm that caused a proliferation of insects the following summer. Or the spring that was too wet and therefore delayed the following planting season. Then there was the summer that was too dry and hot, making plants wilt, toughen, or worse, simply die off. All of these can occur in the same climate zone, affecting the planting and the bounty of the harvest. Yes, gardening is humbling. 

And yet, isn’t it Tiferet’s very truth that God’s majesty as expressed in nature is simply beyond our control? God says to Job:  “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations?... Do you know who fixed its dimensions… set its cornerstone?... Who closed the sea behind doors when it gushed forth from the womb?… Have you ever commanded the day to break, assigned the dawn its place so that it seizes the corners of the earth?” (Job, Chapter 38)

In the face of the splendor, might and supremacy that is God’s created universe, the only honest response is humility.

Action: Take time today to be in God’s creation. Whether observing a tall tree or the industrious ant, new spring growth or the strength of the wind, feel its immensity and your gratitude for being a part of this wonderful net of life that is God’s handiwork. As you feel your humility, I invite you to recite the following prayer from the weekday Amidah:

“Adonai, our God, make this a blessed year. May its varied produce bring us happiness. Grant blessing upon the earth, satisfy us with its abundance, and bless our year as the best of years. praised are you, Adonai, who blesses the years.”

Day 18: Week 3, Day 4 of the Omer – Netzach of Tiferet

Endurance in Compassion: Rabbi Simon Jacobson asks: “Is my compassion enduring and consistent?”

When we sit down to a meal, do we think about where the food has come from? Judaism teaches us to say a brachah – a blessing – for that food. We may or may not take the time to do that, and even if we do, do we stop for a minute and think about the origin of that salad or how that bread came to our table? Barbara Kingsolver focuses on this idea in her book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I was struck by a conversation she relays to a friend, telling her that the potato plants were coming up. Her friend hadn’t seen a potato grow. She said, “What part of a potato comes up?”

Kingsolver’s response was, “Um… the plant part… Stems and leaves.”

To which her friend replied: “Wow… I never knew potatoes had a plant part.”

How much of what we eat do we take for granted? Whether we don’t know what the plant looks like, or where it grows, who grows it, how it gets to our table…  This goes beyond vegetables and fruits as well. Even the boxed food we eat, the dairy, eggs, meat and poultry we purchase, have their roots in the plants that are harvested to make the cereals and cookies, or those that feed the animals that then become part of our breakfast, lunch and dinner. Whether we are aware of it or not, the earth keeps on producing all that we eat. God, in God’s enduring compassion, continues to provide for us.

The second paragraph of the Shema, while a difficult text, says is that if we love God and serve God with all our heart, soul and might: “I [God] will favor your land with rain at the proper season, in autumn and in spring, and you will have an ample harvest of grain and wine and oil. I will assure abundance in the fields for your cattle. You will eat to contentment.” (Deuteronomy 11:14-15)

Just like that. All God asks is that we love God and follow God’s commandments. God’s compassion endures, as we learn in Psalm 100: “God’s compassion and loyalty are eternal; God’s faithfulness is for all generations.”

Do we love God? Do we follow God’s commandments? God commands us to care for the earth. One way we are asked to do that is through observance of the sabbatical year, in which the land gets a rest and during which all may eat of it, regardless of ownership or economic strata. Observing a rest for the land, however, assumes that we have a relationship with that land. Have we forgotten that the potato has a plant part?

In Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:13, God is having a conversation with Adam and Eve. The midrash goes like this: 

When the Holy One created the first human beings, God led them around the Garden of Eden and said: “Look at my works! See how beautiful they are, how excellent! For your sake I created them all. See to it that you do not spoil or destroy My world – for if you do, there will be no one to repair it after you.”  (Midrash Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:13)   

God’s commitment to our abundance is enduring, yet God needs and demands our partnership. Is our compassion for God’s earth enduring? Are we keeping our part of the covenant?

Action: Make an enduring commitment to the enduring abundance that God provides. Here are some choices as to how you might accomplish that: Say a prayer before your meals in which you trace your food back to the earth that grew it and the people who tended it and helped to get it to your table. Nourish the soil through composting. Rest a piece of your land, or help work to keep natural lands protected. Begin an urban garden or urban forest. Or create your own action and share it with us.

Day 17: Week 3, Day 3 of the Omer – Tiferet of Tiferet

Could there be anything more harmonious, anything more joyful, than the compassion of compassion? This is Tiferet of Tiferet. 

The truest compassion has no limits. It is as Isaiah spoke:

You shall indeed go out with joy, and be led forth in peace.

Before you mountains and hills shall break into cries of joy,

And all the trees of the wild shall clap their hands. 

– Isaiah 55:12

When I walk in the forest and I feel the leaves crumble under my feet, when I sit on a rock and absorb the light filtering through the trees, I am in a state of joy much like the mountains and the hills. I can feel the trees clapping their accolades. I experience a sense of wholeness and holiness for God’s creation. I experience this as such a gift that I want to, need to, must give back. This is why I plant. 

Certainly, planting is work. It’s not just the starting the seeds indoors or placing them in the soil. It’s ensuring the earth is rich, with compost, with worms that aerate the soil, with the right pH and the right mix of nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium. It is laying the soaker hoses and water lines and making sure that each plant has enough, but not too much, water. It is watching for pests and removing plants that crowd out desired growth. It is leaving some produce for the wild creatures, but finding ways to make sure the rabbits and squirrels don’t eat all the goodies. It is monitoring the heavy rains, the immense heat, the dry spells and the sudden cold nights. It is lifting and shoveling cubic yard after cubic yard of soil, compost and cocoa hulls, pushing the wheelbarrow from spot to spot to build and renew the earth. It is mulching and weeding, and the stark disappointment of annual plants that die unexpectedly mid-season and perennials that don’t make it through the winter. Each is a part of me, like a dear friend or family member, in whose well being I am completely invested.  While I love the food the garden provides, the rapture comes way before the harvest, simply from seeing things grow: The carrots have sprouted! Look at that baby cabbage head, and check out the artichokes!  The delight must be shared with others: “Have a cucumber, and here are some tomatoes. Got a minute? Can you help me stake up these sunflowers?” I must communicate the grace of these growing things to others, hoping that they feel even a ray of their beauty.

For every breath of air, for every beam of sunlight, for every plant or animal that adorns my plate, for the oceans that roar and for the night that sparkles its jewels of stars, I am in awe. I have so much gratitude. How do I give back to God? How in the world do I say thank you? I plant. It is my way of giving back to God. See God, all that you give to me? Here is my time, my heart, my cultivation. I give back to you and all the creatures that you created, helping to continue to nourish the miraculous web of life. Thank you for my life, and for all the life that surrounds me.

Psalm 96 tells us:

Let the heavens rejoice; let the earth be glad.

Let the sea and all it contains exult.

Let the forest and field sing for joy

For Adonai comes to rule the earth… justly… with faithfulness. 

Action: How do you selflessly express your compassion for all of God’s creation? Where can you extend kindness to that which nourishes us from the earth, a kindness beyond what you’ve experienced previously? Find some way to express this boundless compassion today, and feel the joy it brings.

Day 16: Week 3, Day 2 of the Omer – Gevurah of Tiferet

Compassion that is disciplined and focused.

Recently I was rear-ended at a red light. I was more stunned than anything else, and getting out of my car, the thought that was foremost in my mind was the time I lived in Los Angeles and was the victim of a hit and run. My immediate focus was, if nothing else, to get the license plate and make of the car in case my assailant was planning to take off. And I got right on the line with 911.

Stepping out of my car I was greeted by a young man who pleaded with me not to call the cops. It seems he was not only driving his mother’s uninsured car, but he was driving without a license. Why? Because their single-parent family couldn’t afford either one. I felt my twin aspects of Din and Rachamim – Judgment and Compassion – waging a quick war with one another: If the cops came, this 20-year-old from an economically borderline family was going to go to jail. What would his opportunities be after a turn in county? Certainly more limited than they were at present. On the other hand, what if he was giving me a line? He promised to find a way to be responsible for the repairs, but what if those tears disappeared the moment he took off, laughing to himself that he really got away with that one!

The struggle went on inside me as I was waiting for the police to arrive. It was rush hour and the streets were jammed. We spoke back and forth. I got his name and address, his mom’s name, and his phone number. I knew where he lived. Even if he lied about that, with his license plate number written down, I knew I could find him.

“Get in your car and drive away now before the cops arrive,” I finally blurted out. “I will call you and we will figure out how you will pay for the repairs.” 

He thanked me and drove off. I made another call to 911 and told them their arrival wasn’t necessary.

My “friend” told me that he was unemployed, but had a tax refund coming. The plan was that we would speak after I got an estimate for the repairs. I called him the next week and asked him to meet me at work, which he did. I thought of the teaching in Deuteronomy that we never keep a worker’s garment overnight even if he is indebted to us, because it is all he has. Taking his whole tax return, which would have covered about half of the repairs, felt wrong. So I made him an offer:

“I am asking that you give me half of your tax refund, because I imagine you need some money to live on. Then I want you to work with me in my garden for an hourly rate until you work off the debt.” I explained to him that I grow food, having turned my yard into an edible landscape. He said ok, and he’s now been working with me for over a month. The first couple of times he came late. I pointed to my neighbor the cop who lives across the street, letting him know that this agreement was something he needed to take seriously. He’s been early ever since. He was frustrated when his large hands had difficulty planting tiny carrot and celery seeds. He much preferred watermelon, which have substantively larger seeds. He has never eaten a winter squash, and last week had his first asparagus ever. “It tastes like a stem,” he said. We ate them fresh from the garden. I told him they were usually steamed or cooked in oil or butter with seasoning, but when they’re that fresh, eating them raw is a treat. 

I don’t know if my new friend will become a gardener. I don’t know if he will come to like asparagus or squash or any of the other myriad fruits and vegetables he will be cultivating and trying this season. I do know that he has a sweet heart, with a kind spirit, a sharp mind and a fun sense of humor. I hope that I can inspire him to make a positive, proactive choice to use his life for good, and that his experience in the earth will stay with him in some way.

Action: In what earth-related activity can you apply your compassion in a disciplined way that links Tiferet and Gevurah? According to the Farmer’s Almanac, this is good day to plant above ground annuals, like kale, broccoli, cucumbers, tomatoes and squash. Set a focused goal and plant with the kavannah of feeling in harmony with the earth. 

Day 15: Chesed b'Tiferet

Week three of the Counting of the Omer is the week of Tiferet, and in the context of Tiferet, Rabbi Robin Damsky will be sharing thoughts about gardening. Rabbi Damsky is the rabbi of West Suburban Temple Har Zion in River Forest, IL, and the proud mother of Sarah. In her spare time she promotes tikkun olam - repair of the world - through her garden.

Tiferet is the Divine Attribute of compassion, harmony and truth. Rabbi Damsky quotes from Spiritual Guide to Counting of the Omer, by Rabbi Simon Jacobson, the following reflection for us to consider throughout this week:

Tiferet – compassion, blends with and harmonizes the free outpouring love of chesed with the discipline of truth, which is neither love nor discipline, and therefore can integrate the two. Truth is accessed through selflessness: rising above your ego and your predispositions, enabling you to realize a higher truth.

During this week of reflections on Tiferet, Rabbi Damsky will be considering truth, harmony, and compassion - in the context of her garden. Let us share in her journey, as she focuses on the harmony that is possible between us and the earth: how the earth nourishes us, and how, through our kavaanah - our intention - in planting and cultivation, we can help her to continue to do so. 

May we find our hearts opening wider during this week, and may we find Tiferet imbuing our lives.

Rabbi Katy Allen, Ma'yan Tikvah

Day 15: Week 3, Day 1 of the Omer – Chesed of Tiferet

by Rabbi Robin Damsky

In the late afternoon of Erev Pesach I left my home to head to my seder as light hail was falling. Odd, I thought, a little early for the ten plagues. As the evening progressed, our group would pause now and again to look out the window at the accumulating snow. A good inch was sitting on my car by seder’s end. Yes, it’s late in the season for snow, even by Chicago’s standards. But issues of climate change have been covered well by others in this blog. I was thinking of the asparagus.

One of the first crops to grace us in the fragile days that are just past winter but not quite spring, the fronds poked up their heads the week before. That snowfall killed some of the baby stalks. I wonder if the harsh winter contributed to the fact that many of this year’s stalks thus far are too thin to gather. Nevertheless, one rainfall early this week and more stems are popping up. My first harvest was seven spears, tossed into a sauté/fried rice dish with brown rice, quinoa, herbs and eggs. Delicious.

Chesed of Tiferet demands of us that we examine the love aspect of our compassion, ensuring that it does not come across as pity. In looking at my asparagus bed, it brought to mind the following verse in our Torah in this week’s parashah:

When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You shall not pick your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen fruit of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger. I, Adonai, am your God. (Lev. 19:9-10).

The same text, almost exactly to the word, appears just a few chapters later, in a reading, that synchronously, we just read on Pesach: Leviticus 23:22.

Why leave the corners of our field for those who are hungry? It is a way to preserve their dignity; allowing those in need to eat without them having to ask for help. At the same time, we are exercising our care and compassion through a selfless act. We till the land, we plant the seeds and work the soil, knowing even as we plan our garden that a percentage of it will be dedicated to those who are in want.

One of the names we call God is Ha-Rachaman, the Merciful or Compassionate One. Within this name is the word “rechem,” which means womb. The womb is the source of all life, and God, as Ha-Rachaman, wants all life to be nourished with grace. As we read in the Ashrie prayer: “You open your hand; Your favor sustains all the living. Ha-Rachaman knows that there is enough sustenance for all.

Action: I have shared some of my asparagus with those who have less, and will continue to do so from my garden throughout the season. Are you planting this year? Maybe even a pot of herbs or tomatoes? If not, can you do this today metaphorically? I invite you to share some of what you “grow” with others in a way that is compassionate and selfless while honoring others’ self-respect, so you can personally experience the Chesed of Tiferet.

Day 14: Malchut B'Gevurah

Day Seven of Week 2 (14th day of Omer): Malchut in Gevurah

by Susie Davidson

Malchut is about dignity, and the final manifestation of the intended change. But it is also about sovereignty and authority, and if necessary, assessing if the recipients of such change are deserving and judging if they will utilize it wisely. It could only have been unimaginably difficult for G-d to mete out justice in the form of punishment to those of His creation. Similarly, it is tough for us to judge others, and our own detrimental leanings and inclinations as well. That's where the discernment of Gevurah can help us to realize the impediments that lie along our path.

With Gevurah, characterized by the strict adherence to law and meting of justice, and Malchut, dignity, together they are about restraining the urge to shower goodness upon those who are unworthy or could misuse such gifts. Although G-d's actions of punishment were meant for the bettering of humanity, they have lasting repercussions, and it is our duty to continue to improve upon our past transgressions. We do this during the first 33 days of the Omer, which is a period of mourning recalling the tragic deaths of thousands of students of Rabbi Akiva, as the Talmud explains, because they were disrespectful toward one another. Lag B'Omer, the eighteenth of Iyar, with "Lag" meaning the number 33 in Hebrew, signifies a break in the plague. During the 33 days leading up to this day, we hold no weddings or events with dancing, play no music (purely vocal music is allowed), and don't get haircuts or shave. And we try to find ways to treat others with great respect. In this way, we try to make a "tikkun," a spiritual correction in ourselves and the world. That is the ultimate form of dignity, especially as we are attempting to repair not only our own sins, but the sins of our past brethren.

It is only through proper homage and penitence for the mistakes of the past, and after we have assessed whether or not the intended recipients are deserving, that we can then move to manifest our aims.


The shmita year in agriculture provides for a healing from past transgressions in relation to the earth, such as overuse of the soil and its elements, over-irrigation, over-production. We give the earth a rest, and find other ways to sustain ourselves and others with respect. Then we can move forward in our manifestation of feeding ourselves and others from a dignified and renewed beginning. Giving the earth a rest is a powerful and difficult to imagine task. Here are some ideas from 7seedsproject.org about how to renew the shmita culture and change the way we relate to the Earth: 

• Plant fruit trees. Reclaim sidewalk green strips, park lands, street meridians, traffic circles...let your street trees gift you fruit, as well as shade, fresh air, rain flow management, and soil retention.
• Locate and map the fruit trees growing in your areas.
• Create Tree Care teams to help with tree pruning, fruit thinning, and fertility management.
• Organize neighborhood harvest parties to gather all the ripe fruit hanging from your trees.