Today is the “minor” Jewish holiday of Lag Ba’omer. It’s fascinating to note that some of the Jewish holidays that go virtually unnoticed in the Diaspora have now become major events in Israel.
One example of that is Tu Bishvat, the arboreal New Year. It was barely a blip on the calendar in the “old country” – I can only remember biting on some inedible bokser/carob slices while in grade school – but here in Israel it has become a wonderful opportunity for planting and literally growing our nation.
Jerusalem Day as well is so much more impactive in Israel, though it’s also important for the world at large to officially acknowledge – as the United States has finally done, after decades of stalling – that Yerushalayim is our eternal capital and not a matter that is “up for discussion.”
Lag Ba’omer, for its part, has assumed a much greater presence since we achieved independence. The counting of the Omer commemorates the barley offering once brought in the Temple, as well as linking the physical liberation of Passover to the spiritual high of Shavuot’s giving of the Torah.
It is on this 33rd day of the counting of the Omer that the semi-mourning customs observed between Passover and Shavuot are suspended, or in many customs, concluded. The plague that killed 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva during this period – because, says the Talmud, they “did not respect one another” – finally broke on that day, and so it is cause for celebration.
Also on this day, Rabbi Akiva’s prize student Kabbalist Rav Shimon Bar Yochai passed away, and he urged his followers to rejoice, rather than mourn, on his yahrtzeit (anniversary of death, also known as a hillula). The lighting of a bonfire on Mount Meron symbolizes Bar Yochai’s mystical insights on God and Torah, which are said to have illuminated the world. (Israeli authorities have wisely called for other fires to be curtailed, in light of the recent disastrous flames that wiped out thousands of precious trees.)
Other customs of Lag Ba’omer are the cutting of the hair of boys who have reached the age of three (known as an upsharen), and many weddings are held on this day. In short, many thousands of Israelis actively mark the occasion.
The annual 49-day “count-up” that takes place during the Omer period is somewhat mystifying. By tradition, every individual counts for himself, even though another person – usually the rabbi or cantor – first counts on behalf of the assembled. This is somewhat of an exception to the general rule that one person can exempt all others who have an equal obligation in that same mitzvah (commandment), such as is done when the leader recites the Kiddush on Friday nights.
Equally puzzling is that while we recite a separate blessing each evening – implying that each day is self-contained – if a person misses even one day of the counting, thus “breaking” the set, he is no longer permitted to count new days with a blessing. This begs the question: Is counting the Omer an individual act or is it a collective one?
The answer, you may have guessed, is “Yes – it’s both!” While we have a day-to-day obligation in the ritual, we also are tied to a comprehensive phenomenon; we can only reach the end by advancing one step at a time.
I see in this “micro vs. macro” approach another powerful message being sent: Each one of us is unique; our individuality cannot be crushed or compromised. We have a right to express our own views, unpopular as they may be to others. Yet at the same time, we cannot shirk our obligation to the collective, for in numbers there is strength. Both independence and interrelationship are sacred values to be safeguarded.
Alternative service held on Remembrance Day in Ra'anana
Recently, Ra'anana sadly made the news when the taping of an “alternative” service held on Remembrance Day resulted in violence and several arrests. This paper’s editorial quite correctly criticized any attempt to equate the death of IDF soldiers who are fighting for Israel with Palestinians seeking to undermine the state. All deaths may be tragic, but they are not necessarily equal. At the same time, the editor called out and condemned the use of violence as a form of protest.
My real question is, why was there a separate service – at the very same time as the city-wide event – in the first place? Why did not every single person join in the communal tribute to our courageous, martyred heroes, rather than break apart and have a competing event? Was this not the time to join as one, to embrace the bereaved, rather than split the community and cause even more anguish?
If they wished to recognize both Jews and Arabs, they could have done that in a second service, following the one-hour city commemoration. There is a point when even the strongest emotions – justified as one may feel they are – must be held in check, even compromised, in order to enable the greater good.
The irony of our current situation is that while war has always been the one dynamic that has risen above our differences and united us, it is now the war itself that is dividing us. Shall we go on fighting, or shall we pause while the hostages are freed? Is war the only option we have to eliminate the Hamas forces sworn to our destruction, or could there be an alternative solution? Does this war – and those directing it – have a coherent “exit strategy”?
While these are legitimate questions, our enemies seize upon our fragmentation and lack of consensus and see it as a weakness to be exploited.
I am confident that, with God’s help, we will find a way out of our present predicament, no matter how long it takes. We have faced crises countless times before and lived to tell the tale. What concerns me more is our inability to calibrate the fragile balance between the right to hold our own opinion while also allowing for that of others. Showing honor to the next person – something that, tragically, Rabbi Akiva’s students failed to do – characterizes the essence of what Sefirat HaOmer (counting of the Omer) is all about: Everyone counts.
The writer is director of the Jewish Outreach Center of Ra’anana. rabbistewart@gmail.com