In some communities it is marked by festive trips to Meron and in some by cheerful "opsherin" parties celebrating the education of our little ones. In much of Israel bonfires fill its evening with their smoky smell culminating weeks of wood collecting, and yet for many, it may just be a much anticipated pause in the national mourning accorded the students of Rabbi Akiva. Bonfires, bows and baseballs may be its trademark, yet is it not intriguing that Lag Baomer, the yarzheit of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, has caught our imagination altogether, and certainly in such varied ways? (Interestingly, he is probably the first one to have the anniversary of his death celebrated, rather than mourned – a practice expanded and maintained by Chasidim to this day.)
What is it about this tanna that sets him apart from the other tannaim, all of whose words and thoughts we plumb daily? True, he was chosen by Heaven to be the conduit of the mystical parts of our Torah, but does that mean that he outshines Rabbi Meir, on whom we depend for most of the mishna or Rabbi Yehuda Hanasi who saved the Oral Law for us and future generations?
His story in Mesechta Shabbos (33b) begins with RASHBI’s biting cynicism accusing the Roman Empire of developing roads and bathhouses for self serving and decadent purposes. His comments were soon reported and he and his son soon found themselves holed up in a cave, living in fear of their lives, leaving no trace behind and having no sustenance from within. Miraculously Hashem provided a carob tree and a fountain of water, enough to sustain the two scholars, as they davened and learned daily for twelve uninterrupted years. It was then that Eliyahu calls upon them to join the world once again as the death of the Roman Emperor made the world safe for them.
Yet, it was not long at all before father and son found themselves once again secluded in the cave. This time however, Hashem, himself, banished them from society. What a painful censure after twelve years of eating and learning directly from Hashem’s hand! Apparently it was necessary because they had become a dangerous menace, questioning the validity of working in this world, "leaving a life of sanctity in order to pursue the mundane and the worldly". Coming from where they did, this was a powerful question and the Gemara records that Rashbi’s gaze alone would singe the innocent farmer tending to his crops.
Thus, Hashem sentences father and son to seclusion, once again in the cave, with the words, "I did not free you in to destroy my world". Twelve months later Rashbi begs to return to the world and Hashem acquiesces. The story could easily end here. After all how things have changed! This time Rabbi Shimon bar Yocahi does not wait for Eliyahu to come. Now he and his son yearn to be part of Hashem’s world. Perhaps they have made peace philosophically with a world that has room for Kabbalists and farmers, for the temporal and eternal somehow to live side by side.
However the story continues. It was Friday afternoon and a simple older gentleman rushing home as so many of us do weekly, bounds past Rashbi, who was probably engrossed already in the loftiest shabbos thoughts that unify all worlds. This gentleman is returning home clasping in his hands two myrtle branches, proudly explaining to Rashbi that each branch represents for him an essential part of shabbos. One branch reminded him of the positive commandments that we observe and one would represent the work from which we refrain. Upon hearing this insight of this seemingly ordinary person, Rashbi exclaims, "How dear are the mitzvos to Klal Yisrael."
In this little vignette Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai is far from the biting cynic that drove him away from all people and he is certainly not the saint who has no patience for simplicity and innocence. Rather he is obviously the saint who has developed the "ayin tov" , that appreciates the goodness of the well meaning gesture of every Jew and sees within them purity and substance. Indeed, it was probably this gentleman, whose name we will never know, that introduced into our homes , out of his interest to give to his home and his G-d, the two candles which has become the primary minhag with which we welcome every shabbos
This attitude, that respects the inherent goodness and contribution of all those who earnestly strive to do Hashem’s bidding and was extended from the greatest kabalist to the farmer is clearly the antidote to the lack of respect that the students of Rabbi Akiva had for each other which brought about their death.
Certainly it deserves to bring about a pause in our mourning to give us pause, so that the life of Rashbi will impact upon us and enhance the respect and appreciation we have for one another.