Our Gemara on Amud Aleph discusses the extensive process by which the flour for the Omer offering is prepared. One part of the process was that it was an ephah of barley flour that was sifted through thirteen sifters. The number 13 is a significant number in Jewish mystical thought. There are thirteen principles that the rabbis derive laws from the verses in the Torah, thirteen attributes of God’s mercy, and thirteen tribes (when you count the Levites and Menashe and Ephraim).

Likkutei Halachos (Laws of Tefilin 6:34) expands on this and how it relates to the Omer. The sifter (in Hebrew, Nafah) is a tool for refinement. Metaphorically, it is used by our sages for a process of intellectual refinement (see Avos 5:15). On Shavuous we celebrate the receiving of the Torah, and the 49-day count begins with the Omer offering on Pesach. The thirteen siftings represent the thirteen derivation principles of the Torah; in other words, the process of extracting God’s will from the Torah and purifying and elevating our character and consciousness.

Likkutei Halachos speaks of a kabbalistic concept of the thirteen locks of hair in the beard. While this is past my pay grade, I believe the idea is that the beard hair growing out of the head is reminiscent of thoughts or impulses that come out in streaks. Likkutei Halachos speaks of combing through the strands, which is also symbolic of a refinement process.

How does this connect to the thirteen attributes of mercy? What is God’s mercy if not His allowing us to overcome our barriers and transcend sin, which, in other words, is confusion and mental distortion? So working through the thirteen refinements is the same as delving into the Torah to understand God’s will and ultimately the same as mercy. It’s an important concept because we are used to thinking of rules and law, which the Torah largely is in its external form, as more justice than mercy. However, if it offers a way for us to break out of our limitations and our earthly bonds—since essentially that is impossible, and we can say we “don’t deserve it”—it really is a form of mercy. It’s as if a busy physician takes time to slowly explain to you the steps that you need to get healed, even if those steps are painful. Is he not merciful?