Lag B’Omer, Turn On Your Love Light!

One of my favorite songs that the Grateful Dead used to cover is “Turn On Your Love Light,” written by Joe Scott and recorded by Bobby Bland in 1961. The chorus of this composition is powerful: “Turn on your love light let it shine on me. Let it shine, let it shine” What exactly is a Love Light?

At this time of year, we are in Sefirat HaOmer, the Counting of the Omer, the 49 days between Pesach (Passover) and Shavuot. This should be a festive time. However, within this span, there is also a period of mourning. Why?

The Talmud (Yevamot 62b) tells that during this time, a plague killed the 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva because they were disrespectful toward one another. This type of reward-and-punishment theology is difficult to reconcile. For the Tanakh and the Talmud to make such pronouncements is one thing; however, for us today to opine why such horrific events occur can appear insensitive and arrogant, so it’s important for us to be aware that the Talmud is teaching something meaningful.

Presumably, when Rabbi Akiva’s students were engaged in Torah study and differences of opinion arose, they could not sustain substantive conversations. Their debates degraded into personal attacks. They were unable to comprehend that, in the learning of Torah, more than one opinion can be correct. The Talmud in Eruvin 13b states: “Eilu v’eilu divrei Elokim chayim”—“These and those are the words of the living God.” This validates different interpretations of Halacha (law) and Hashkafa (philosophy), within appropriate parameters.

Returning to the story in Yevamot 62b, perhaps the Talmud is saying that the inability to see value in one another, despite differences, is itself a disease. It is an internal threat with a greater potential to destroy us than any external danger. These afflictions—failing to see the nobility in one another- continue to spread throughout Israel, the Diaspora, and society at large. There is no need for examples; tragic cases abound. What do we do? In learning Torah and in life, our ideas must be articulated with grace. We should strive to learn from and work with those with whom we disagree. At the same time, we must ensure that pluralism does not devolve into moral relativism.

There is more that the narrative of Rabbi Akiva can teach us. According to the Meiri, Rabbi Menashe Ben Shlomo, in the Beit HaBechirah commenting on Yevamot 62b, the plague ended on the 33rd day of the Omer, Lag B’Omer. Lag B’Omeris also associated with the day of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai (Rashbi)’s death, one of Rabbi Akiva’s greatest students, as Rabbi Chaim Elazar Spira (the third Munkatcher Rebbe) explains in Minchat Elazar, Volume 4, Siman 64. However, the Minchat Elazar states there is no strong support for this.

Dr. Boaz Huss, author of Zohar: Reception and Impact, (Page 112) explains that there is no Talmudic or Zoharic source for Rashbi’s death on Lag B’Omer. Any citation we do see that acknowledges the day’s connection to Rashbi is much later, like the Minchat Elazar. However, it should be noted that the Minchat Elazar just connects this day to celebrating the life of Rashbi. He does not say it is his yahrzeit (the anniversary of the death). In fact, he feels the belief that Lag B’Omer is Rashbi’s yahrzeit is based on a printing error in Pri Etz Chaim by Rabbi Chaim Vital (Sha’ar Sefirat HaOmer, Chapter 7). In some versions of the text, referring to Rashbi, it says “Shemet”; he died on Lag B’Omer. However, the correct version is probably that Rashbi was “Sameach” on Lag B’Omer; he rejoiced on Lag B’Omer.

Regardless of the authenticity of the sources, commemorating the life of Rashbi on Lag B’Omer has become both a reality and a meaningful tradition. The event we engage in to pay tribute to Rashbi on Lag B’Omer is called a hillula. It includes singing, dancing, words of Torah, and the lighting of a medura (a bonfire). While the central celebration takes place in Meron, Israel, where Rashbi is buried, such events occur throughout Israel and the Diaspora. We do not mourn Rashbi on Lag B’Omer; we celebrate and learn from him.

Rashbi was one of five primary students of Rabbi Akiva who survived the plague, alongside Rabbi Meir, Rabbi Yehuda Bar Ilai, Rabbi Yosei Ben Halafta, and Rabbi Eleazar Ben Shammua (Yevamot 62b). The Talmud (Shabbat 33b) tells that Rashbi and his son hid in a cave for a total of 13 years while hiding from the Romans, immersed in the study of Torah. Traditionally, the origin of the Zohar, the central book of Jewish mysticism, was that it was revealed to Rashbi on Lag B’Omer, according to the Chida, Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulai Ben Yitzhak Zerachia, in the Birchei Yosef 493:3. The word “Zohar” means splendor, radiance, brightness, glow, or gleam, as in light.

Therefore, there is a custom to light bonfires and candles on Lag B’Omer (Aruch Hashulchan, Orach Chaim 493:7). Since Rashbi brought spiritual light into the world, we reenact this illumination to show Rashbi honor. The fire of Lag B’Omer is a fire of spirituality, but it is also a fire that challenges us to reflect on the students of Rabbi Akiva. Their story should kindle a fire within us, a fire that reminds us that every human being is created B’tzelem Elokim, in the image of God (Bereishit 1:27), even if, or better yet, especially when, we differ.

The Talmud (Shabbat 33b) relates that when Rashbi and his son, Rabbi Elazar, emerged from the cave, they encountered people farming. When Rashbi and his son, Rabbi Elazar, saw this, fire came from their eyes, and everything they looked at immediately burned. Perhaps we are not supposed to read the text literally; after their twelve years of spiritual study, they could not relate to those going about their lives.

What happens next is powerful. A Bat Kol, the voice of God, spoke: “Did you come out of the cave to destroy My world? Return!” Rashbi and Rabbi Elazar spent another year learning in the cave. The divine voice said, “Come out of the cave.” They came out, and once again, Rabbi Elazar engaged in the same behavior. However, the Talmud says, “Everywhere that Rabbi Elazar would strike, Rabbi Shimon would heal.”

In other words, Rashbi had learned that while we need to engage in the fire of coming closer to God, we also need to let that fire raise our consciousness to have respect for our fellow Jew and our fellow human being who is just living their life. This is also a challenge today. Often, those who are the most intensely spiritual have difficulty relating to regular people. It is not uncommon that when the most spiritual among us today emerge from their caves of learning, fire also comes out of their eyes, burning all those in their path who are living more temporal lives. Beyond the cruelty of such behavior, it is a missed opportunity. If only those who have been enriched in the caves of learning could share their spiritual fire, rather than burn others with it.

Let all those whom the fire of Torah has enlightened let that fire enlighten them with respect and dignity for everyone they encounter. So may the lights of Lag B’Omer be a Love Light. May it be a Love Light of spirituality between God and us. May it be a Love Light for the entire Jewish people and all of humanity. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.