By Rabbi Dan Lewin
Parashat Emor
There is a recurring theme in classical Torah literature whereby all positive transformation — the inner changes we seek — unfolds in a general three-stage process. The Baal Shem Tov described this model succinctly as submission (or silence), separation and sweetening, though these progressive developments are expressed in different ways.
The first stage, upon acknowledging the need for change and awakening a desire, is called submission. It involves setting aside one’s emotions and preconceptions to fully engage with what is in front of us. The ideal state is one of simplicity and lightness — a lack of self-consciousness — where a person is not yet shaping or evaluating, but simply becoming receptive.
The second stage is separation. Here, the role becomes active. A person is no longer just absorbing, but working deliberately — sorting through what has been taken in, distinguishing between what is accurate and what is not, what is constructive and what is detrimental to advancement. It is a process of working through the material or experience and beginning to align oneself with it in a more internal way.
The final stage is sweetening. At this point, a person has, in a sense, arrived on the other side — a changed figure. The changes have been internalized and successfully applied to life.
In the context of Torah study — and learning more broadly — these stages are clear. First, the student enters a state of readiness to receive — that is submission to a greater authority or sacred wisdom before them. Then comes the active exertion to analyze and sort through the received information — that is separation. Finally comes ownership, when the knowledge resonates and becomes one’s own — that is the sweetening.
This three-stage model of improvement appears across many forms of growth.
On a communal level, we see these stages reflected in the Jewish calendar as well. In the Book of Exodus, G-d tells Moses, “When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall serve G-d upon this mountain.” In other words, the purpose of the Exodus lay in the giving of the Torah. Between these two events came the seven weeks of the Omer — a necessary transition between the beginning and the completion of redemption.
Three distinct months mark this process. In Nisan, the month of miracles, when the Jewish people were still in Egypt, the experience of redemption was largely one of silent submission — being whisked away from an oppressive and spiritually impure environment. Still caught in a slave mentality, there was little understanding of what lay ahead; the task was simply to heed the call — to flee with hope amidst divine wonders.
The period we are in now, the month of Iyar, corresponds to separation. This is the time between the Exodus and Sinai, where the Jewish people had to actively change to become fit receptacles for something greater — commemorated each year through a process of steady refinement, preparing oneself day by day for Shavuot.
Then comes Shavuot, the giving of the Torah. Here, the Jewish people enter a new state entirely — united with their purpose in a more complete and integrated way. This is the stage of sweetening, where the process of redemption reaches fulfillment — something that ultimately requires divine assistance, after our input, to reach — symbolized by the fiftieth gate.
The countdown
Let us now focus more closely on the current period — the second stage — and shift from the overall model of three stages of transformation to a familiar structure entailing seven natural powers within us.
To begin, there is a unique fulfillment in the process of honing one’s craft — watching masters, learning from them, practicing and then stepping into execution under pressure. There is a parallel in spiritual life: the refinement of the inner being, the polishing of the soul.
The soul is refined by working its different “muscles” — developing its faculties, becoming aware of strengths and weaknesses and gradually bringing its parts into harmony under the guidance of the more intellectually oriented self.
This week, in Parshas Emor, we are commanded to “count for yourselves … seven complete weeks … until the day after the seventh week you shall count fifty days” (Vayikra 23:15–16). On a deeper level, this is not merely the marking of time, but a process of refining the soul until it becomes clearer and more radiant. The word sefirah itself is related to sapir — a sapphire, a shining stone.
On a mystical level, these “seven complete weeks” correspond to the seven emotional attributes — middot — of the soul, further subdivided into a structure of seven within seven, forming the 49-day journey. Alongside the daily mitzvah of counting — a simple verbal declaration in the siddur — we identify the spiritual quality corresponding to each day.
Where we are now
The first three weeks, which we have completed, culminate in Tiferet, which represents harmony — an integration between Chesed (expansion, loving-kindness) and Gevurah (discipline, restraint). Like all soul faculties, it is not a single definition but a spectrum of expression.
This week in the counting, we move into the first of the functional powers, which follow the initial three emotive traits. It corresponds to the sefirah of Netzach — loosely defined as victory. It manifests as the grit to overcome obstacles, both internal and external, and to prevail. It is the drive to push forward and, when properly directed, a healthy sense of competition.
Like all these characteristics, Netzach exists in parallel forms — within the realm of kedushah (holiness), within the dark counterforces and within neutral worldly pursuits like career, hobbies and other ambitions.
Within divine service, this trait has a defined and essential place. It is often underestimated, sometimes associated with ego-driven expression, yet in its root — as explained in the esoteric texts — it reaches a far deeper source within our makeup.
The need to awaken this quality arises because life in this world is largely about struggle. Obstacles are inevitable, sometimes fierce. Whether the barriers come as inner resistance or external opposition, cultivating the drive to prevail — to push forward with strategy and strength toward a meaningful goal — is essential. In many situations, what determines whether a person falls back or moves forward is the ability to awaken this drive and continue despite resistance.
Within Netzach there is also an element of love. Often, it appears as a love for the struggle itself — an embracing of the challenge. More deeply, it is the drive that emerges from valuing something or someone so strongly that anything standing in the way of that connection is met with determination. This is Chesed within Netzach.
Netzach, intertwined with confidence, must be more actively developed in those susceptible to doubt or worry. But as important as this quality is, it cannot stand alone. It must remain anchored in a consciousness of oneness and a connection to Hashem. Otherwise, the struggle itself becomes the focus — reduced to willpower or identity — rather than a mode of serving G-d.
From the moment a person wakes up, the Shulchan Aruch emphasizes qualities — drawn from animal metaphors — of being swift, focused and determined. Not being preoccupied with how others perceive you, but remaining steadfast in one’s mission.
This drive to persevere through opposition is followed by the next middah, Hod — the ability to remain grounded, aligned with the goal and infused with gratitude — and from there, the development continues through the remaining powers toward fuller expression in a person’s life.
As we move through these final weeks, reliving the journey to Sinai, may we engage obstacles with renewed Netzach, transforming resistance into growth — until it gives way to inner alignment and, ultimately, sweetness.
Rabbi Dan Lewin is director of the nonprofit Maayan Chai Foundation. For information, visit www.maayan-chai.org.