A Lag Ba’omer Reflection: The Majesty Within
By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
Lag
Ba’omer is one of
those days on the Jewish calendar that the people themselves have turned into a
day of great celebration. The Shulchan Aruch doesn’t mention anything
special about the day. However, the Rama (493:2) writes, “In these
countries, the custom is to take haircuts [on Lag Ba’omer], increase a
little simcha, and we don’t recite Tachanun.”
Today,
in Eretz Yisroel, the day is treated like a minor Yom Tov, and it is
increasingly observed that way in our communities as well.
What
is it about this day that has inspired Klal Yisroel to elevate it with
such joy and celebration?
We
know that it marks the end of the gezeirah that brought tragedy to the talmidim
of Rabi Akiva. We also know that it is the day Rabi Shimon bar Yochai emerged
from the cave where he received the full breadth of Torah, including Toras
Hanistar, and the day he passed away. But clearly, there must be a deeper
message, one that stirs the soul and energizes the nation.
We
each carry within us the potential for greatness, and, tragically, the capacity
to fall. The Torah captures this duality in the word odom.
The
Shelah Hakadosh explains that this term is used for man because it
encapsulates the full range of human potential. Odom is linked both to adameh,
“I shall emulate,” referencing our mission to mirror the Divine, and adamah,
the dust of the earth, the lowest substance.
Within
this name lies both a calling and a caution: to ascend or to descend, to rise
toward the heavens or to sink into the dust. Our life’s mission is to seize the
daily opportunities that allow us to ascend to spiritual heights.
And
yet, odom is written in the singular, because the journey is profoundly
personal. Each person is born alone - odom shenivra yechidi - endowed
with the power to shape their own world, to reach magnificent peaks or descend
into deep valleys. Each soul is gifted by the Creator with potential, endowed
with willpower, intellect, and energy. Every individual decides how - and
whether - to use those gifts.
When
Rav Aharon Leib Shteinman first visited the United States, he was relatively
unknown to much of the American Torah world. Yet, during that visit, while
addressing a massive crowd of Jewish children, he shared a seemingly simple Medrash
that carries profound meaning.
The
Yalkut Shimoni (Shmuel I, 1:78) recounts that before Shmuel
Hanovi was born, a bas kol resounded across the world, proclaiming that
a tzaddik named Shmuel would soon be born. In response, Jewish mothers
everywhere named their sons Shmuel, each hoping that their child would be the
one destined for greatness.
Eventually,
as Shmuel’s noble conduct and brilliance became apparent, it was clear to all
that he was the child to whom the bas kol had referred.
Rav
Shteinman highlighted the depth of hope contained in that moment, the yearning
of every Jewish parent that their child might grow to bring light and
redemption to Am Yisroel.
Later
that evening, after a long and exhausting day of meetings, public appearances,
and shiurim, Rav Shteinman returned to his host’s home in Brooklyn. He
had barely sat down when he was told that a young Russian immigrant boy had
come to the house and was turned away. The child was sitting outside on the
porch, weeping.
Rav
Shteinman immediately asked for the boy to be brought in.
Through
an interpreter, the child explained that he had recently arrived in New York
from Russia and was attending a yeshiva for immigrant boys. He had come
in the hope of receiving a brocha from the visiting gadol.
With
the tenacity and inner resilience so characteristic of Russian Jews - traits
that helped them cling to Yiddishkeit under brutal oppression - the boy
persisted in his goal and ultimately received the brocha he had come
for.
Rav
Shteinman smiled warmly and bentched the boy, visibly moved by his
determination. In that simple interaction, he showed everyone present that
every Jew counts. Every child holds a spark of greatness and great potential.
We
never write off a Yid. We never give up on anyone. No soul is too small,
no background too broken. Every neshomah is a universe.
This
eternal truth is at the heart of Lag Ba’omer, a day when joy radiates
throughout the Jewish world. Why such exuberance on the day of Rabi Shimon bar
Yochai’s passing? Because Rabi Shimon revealed the royalty hidden within every
Jewish soul.
A
powerful lesson from the Pnei Menachem, the Gerrer Rebbe, drives this
point home.
A
group of askonim once visited the Pnei Menachem, who was then rosh
yeshiva in the Gerrer Yeshiva. They were trying to arrange a shidduch
for a bochur with a difficult family background. They presented a
suggestion; a girl they thought might be suitable. The rebbe listened
patiently and then responded.
“I
will share with you a principle that I’ve tried to live by. If you’re going to
give someone an eitzah, if you’re going to offer advice, it must be
something you yourself would accept. It is not proper to recommend a course of
action that you wouldn’t follow. I understand that your situations are
different and that you are more fortunate, but still, would any one of you
consider this shidduch for your own sons?”
The
room fell silent.
“If
that’s the case,” the rebbe said, “then you cannot suggest it for this bochur
either.”
Sensing
their disappointment - they had clearly worked hard to help - the rebbe
added gently, “I cannot endorse your idea, but I will give a brocha that
he finds his true zivug soon and that your efforts bear fruit.”
As
they turned to leave, the rebbe stopped them.
“Remember
this always: Kol Yisroel bnei melochim heim. Every Yid is
royalty. You can only truly help others if you see their dignity.”
Who
taught us this vision?
Rabi
Shimon bar Yochai.
It
was Rabi Shimon (Shabbos 67 et al) who said, “Kol Yisroel bnei
melochim heim,” and ruled halacha lemaaseh that every Jew may wear
royal garments on Shabbos without transgressing the prohibition of hotza’ah,
because every Yid is a ben melech. He perceived the splendor and
majesty within every neshomah, recognizing the inherent greatness in
each individual.
Where
did Rabi Shimon learn this perspective? From his rebbi, Rabi Akiva.
Rabi
Akiva began his journey as an unassuming shepherd, who no one expected would
achieve anything extraordinary. But deep within him was royalty. He, too, was a
ben melech. Through him, the Jewish people merited Rabi Shimon bar
Yochai and received the legacy of Torah Sheba’al Peh.
On
Lag Ba’omer, Jews across the globe light bonfires and sing songs in
praise of Rabi Shimon and his rebbi, Rabi Akiva. They dance in circles,
singing again and again the words, “Omar Rabi Akiva, ashreichem Yisroel - Praised
be the Bnei Yisroel.” Thousands stream to the kever of Rabi
Shimon in Meron, and those who are lucky are able to read the words - his words
- painted atop the entrance, “Ki lo sishochach mipi zaro – The Torah
will never be forgotten from the lips of Hashem’s children,” reflecting the greatness
of Hashem, His Torah and His people.
When
the shevotim sold Yosef and returned to their father, the posuk
says, “Vayeired Yehudah.” Rashi quotes Chazal that the shevotim
removed Yehudah from his position of leadership. Meforshim explain that
they no longer treated him as a king.
My
rebbi, Rav Elya Svei, asked that there is a principle of “ein melech
belo am.” A king only maintains his position when he rules over a nation or
an empire. Obviously, at that time, Yehudah didn’t rule over anyone, for Yaakov
Avinu was alive and he was the leader of the family, so in what sense had
Yehudah been treated as a king?
Rav
Elya explained that the shevotim saw in Yehudah the traits and potential
for malchus, so they accorded him the respect of a king. But when they
returned home after selling Yosef and saw the pain that their act caused their
father, they no longer viewed Yehudah as worthy of being a melech.
Yehudah
wasn’t yet a king in title, but the brothers recognized his inner capacity for malchus.
When he fell short of that, they withdrew their respect.
Rabi
Akiva was the one who taught that “Ve’ahavta lerei’acha kamocha,” loving
your fellow Jew, is not just a mitzvah, but the very foundation of the
Torah. How could it be that Rabi Akiva’s 24,000 talmidim didn’t follow
that prime teaching of their rebbi?
Rav
Elya explained that the talmidim of Rabi Akiva respected one another as
they were, but not for who they could become. They failed to honor each other’s
potential. That, Rav Elya said, was their fatal mistake.
The
Torah demands more.
And
because of that failure, the world became dark until Rabi Akiva began again
with five new students. From them came to us all of Torah Sheba’al Peh.
Through them, Torah lived on and was not forgotten.
On
Lag Ba’omer, we don’t just celebrate an end to tragedy. We celebrate a
second chance, a future reclaimed, for on that day Rabi Akiva began learning
with his new talmidim.
And
so, we dance around flames that flicker with memory and hope. We sing the words
of Rabi Shimon and his rebbi, Rabi Akiva: Ashreichem Yisroel!
Fortunate are you, the nation beloved by Hashem.
Rabi
Akiva taught, “Ve’ahavta lerei’acha kamocha.” Genuine Torah
growth begins not with intellect alone, but with the heart - the ability to see
in others the same dignity and care we wish for ourselves. This commandment
speaks to the very middos that define a Jew and rests on a deeper truth:
that every Jewish soul is inherently precious, deserving of honor.
The
Zohar tells us that Rabi Shimon bar Yochai looked upon his talmidim
and saw radiant joy on their faces. In their unity and sincere love they held
for one another, he perceived something greater than happiness. “Because of
your joy and brotherhood,” he said, “you have been found worthy of receiving
the hidden secrets of the Torah.”
The
day after Lag Ba’omer, we will listen to the krias haTorah of
Parshas Emor and hear the song of Shabbos and the moadim.
We will feel the freedom of Pesach, the glory of Shavuos, the awe
of Rosh Hashanah, and the purity of Yom Kippur, followed
by the joy of Sukkos. It’s a reminder of how each of us can lift
ourselves above the mundane and enter the realm of melochim once again.
The Jewish year is framed by such opportunities - the moadim, the
meeting places between man and his Creator - which catapult us into a different
dimension.
We
contemplate how the Ribbono Shel Olam looked at a broken, weary nation
and saw splendor and beauty. We learn from this the significance of each
individual, the greatness of all of Klal Yisroel as a whole, and the
inherent greatness that each one of us possesses. We remember that we are a mamleches
kohanim, that we are bnei melochim, and that it is incumbent upon us
to live that way and to treat others that way.
We
recall that on Pesach, Hashem redeemed us not for who we were, but for
who we could become. Before Torah, before refinement, He lifted us with love.
And
we look toward Shavuos, when Hashem gave us the greatest gift.
Between
Pesach and Shavuos, we walk the shoreline between redemption and
revelation, framed by fire. And in the heart of it all, we find Lag Ba’omer,
a day that reminds us that we are all bnei melochim, children of the
King.
The
teachings of Rabi Shimon bar Yochai enrich our spiritual side and our neshamos,
and energize us physically and mentally as we endure the golus. He
reminds us of who we are and what we are about. The Torah he transmitted
elevates us exponentially, transforming us into a deeper, more refined people
as we immerse ourselves in his sacred words.
As
the world mocks and vilifies us, as concerns are raised about the security of
Eretz Yisroel, as its neighbors negotiate deals and agreements that may have
negative impacts, studying the Torah that Rabi Akiva and Rabi Shimon bequeathed
to us raises us above all and reminds us not to let those who scorn us define
us.
We
are not burdens. We are not broken. We are a mamleches kohanim, a nation
of priests and princes.
Rabi
Akiva was never broken by tragedies that would have shattered others. Rabi
Shimon risked his life to study with his son as Rome hunted him. They
persevered, armed with emunah and bitachon, and Hashem sustained
them and enabled them to grow and flourish and remain beacons of light and
faith to their generation and all those who followed.
As
the firelight reflects in our eyes, let us remember that “Na’aseh adam
ne’emar ba’avurecha” - the Divine decision to create man was justified
because of Rabi Shimon bar Yochai. Yet, it is also justified in each of us,
when we choose to see through the lens of Torah. In doing so, we are blessed
with the clarity, strength, and determination to persevere, grow, and flourish
until the coming of Moshiach, speedily in our days.
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