As we reach the close of this Omer journey—seven weeks of exploring the inner landscape of our middot—there’s no grand finale, no finish line to cross with dramatic flair (though we fully support a quiet fist-pump if that feels right). What we do mark is the richness of the process: the small discoveries, the slow unfurling, and the courage it takes simply to pause and look within. Reflecting on the Omer, we see that each moment of attention has been its own reward.
Each week invited us into a different room of the soul, asking us not to judge, but to observe—sometimes with curiosity, sometimes with unease, often with both. This year, we explored:
- The flickering spark of Sacranut (Curiosity),
- The bold beating of Ometz Lev (Courage),
- The grounded presence of Anava (Humility),
- The generous warmth of Hesed (Loving Kindness),
- The rooted belonging of Achava (Sacred Kinship),
- The steady sway of Izun (Balance),
- The peace that Histapkut (Contentment) brings,
- And the quiet wonder of Yireh (Awe).
None of these middot demanded perfection. They invited practice. They offered us a mirror—not a magnifying one that criticizes every detail, but a soft one that reflects where we are today, with room to grow tomorrow.
Perhaps you found that your curiosity had edges, your courage had softness, or your humility had more backbone than expected. Maybe you discovered that your kindness needs boundaries, that connection requires intention, or that awe sometimes arrives when you’re just sipping tea and not trying too hard. These middot are not rigid rules—they’re tools for deepening your relationship with yourself and others.
This journal wasn’t about reaching a destination. It was about creating sacred pause—about setting down the rush of daily life to listen, even briefly, to the quieter truths inside. That’s the beautiful trick of Mussar: it’s not about becoming someone else. It’s about uncovering the truest version of ourselves—the one who lives at peace within the spectrum of each middah, not stuck at one extreme or the other.
So now what?
Now, we let the learning keep unfolding. We carry these reflections with lightness, allowing them to surface when needed—at the dinner table, in a moment of conflict, in quiet prayer, or while watching the light shift through the trees. The middot are always there, not as dictators or as burdens, but as gentle companions. Reflecting on the Omer reminds us that growth continues, even in the quiet after the counting.
Thank you for walking this path at your own pace, with honesty and heart. May what you’ve uncovered continue to guide, surprise, and sustain you.
With gratitude, I hope you will welcome further opportunities for us to explore the variety of middot that Mussar has to offer. Please keep an eye out for further opportunities!
Onward, with curiosity and compassion.
Rabbi Lauren
