If I didn’t already tell you, the 49-day Jewish ritual of counting the Omer stresses me out. I like my rituals neat, compact, and non-prolonged: I love doing these rituals. And, when they’re over, I want them to be over.
This year, we’re counting the omer as a family, which has been a lot more exciting — and a lot more stressful. When one of us remembers, it’s a victory for us all. And if I forget (which hasn’t happened yet, G*d willing) then I drag the whole team down with me. As I wrote:
We’ve worked it into a little ritual for our family. Usually we count right at sunset, after we’ve put the baby to sleep. We’ll have dinner (both of us! eating together! the same food! every night! for us, this is revolutionary). We’ll hang out a bit, pack for our upcoming move (tomorrow, bli ayin hara), and watch the sun go down. And then as soon as it’s dark, one of us will inevitably remind the other by running up to the other person and saying, with no prelude, “Baruch!”
Of all the forget-proof ways I’ve heard so far, my friend Shifra Pride Raffel has what might be the neatest system.
1) You’re reminded of it every time you eat, which happens at least every day; and 2) You get to count the kabbalistic sefirot, too, which are the mystical emanations of the Omer.