Rosh Chodesh Iyar: Healing, One Step at a Time

By Jennifer Saber 

I am writing this blog just after returning from Poland, where I had the privilege of being a member of a March of the Living delegation.  March of the Living is an annual educational program that brings participants to Poland to learn about the Holocaust by visiting historic sites and bearing witness together.

It is hard to put into words what it means to spend a week walking through places layered with so much history, pain, memory, and loss. There were moments that felt heavy and heartbreaking, and moments that felt sacred. At times I was immersed in the experience, and at other times I found myself quietly taking in where I was and what it meant to be there.

Since coming home, I have been thinking a lot about the new Hebrew month of Iyar and its association with healing. Jewish tradition teaches that the name Iyar is connected to the phrase “Ani Adonai Rofecha”- “I am God, your healer.” I have always found that idea beautiful. But this year, it feels deeper to me.

Healing is not the same as forgetting.

Because healing is not simple. Healing is not the same as forgetting. It is not the same as fixing. And it is not always neat or visible. Sometimes healing is simply finding a way to carry what we have seen and learned with honesty, tenderness, and care. That is what I keep returning to after this trip.

During the month of Iyar, we count the Omer every single day, moving slowly from Passover toward Shavuot. There is something powerful about that rhythm. We do not leap from liberation to revelation. We move one day at a time.

That feels true to life.

It feels true to healing too.

After a powerful experience, there is rarely one moment when everything settles into place. More often, meaning comes later,  in the unpacking, in the remembering, in the conversations afterward, in the questions that stay with us.

That is how this trip feels to me.

There were so many moments that mattered: standing in places I had previously only taught about, watching people grapple with what they were seeing, noticing the quiet ways compassion surfaced, and feeling the weight and privilege of bearing witness. I was having my own experience too. I was not outside of it. I was in it.

Rosh Chodesh Iyar is also connected to sustenance- to manna, to Miriam’s well, to the things that nourish us along the journey. I find myself thinking about that now.

What sustains us after we encounter something difficult or profound?

For me, part of the answer is found in the quiet ways people showed up for one another throughout the week. In the conversations that continued long after we left a site. In the moments of shared reflection. In the simple presence of not having to carry it alone.

Healing, I am beginning to understand, is not something we arrive at. It is something we move through.

Slowly.
Gently.
Often without even realizing it.

That is what the counting of the Omer teaches us. Each day is counted. Each day matters. There is no shortcut from where we have been to where we are going.

And maybe that is the invitation of Iyar.

Not to rush toward resolution.
Not to try to make sense of everything all at once.
But to allow space – for reflection, for feeling, for questions that do not yet have answers.

This year, I am entering Iyar with more humility than certainty.

I am still carrying what I saw.
Still reflecting.
Still making meaning.

And perhaps that, too, is part of healing.

So as this new month begins, I find myself asking:

What am I carrying right now?
What needs care?
What would it mean to take one small step forward?

Iyar reminds us that healing does not happen all at once. It unfolds day by day, often quietly, often beneath the surface.

One moment.
One reflection.
One step at a time.

Chodesh Tov.

Join Chai Mitzvah’s virtual event TONIGHT, Monday, April 20 at 7:30pm Eastern time: Rosh Chodesh Iyar.
Click HERE to register.