The Mystical Significance of Lag B’Omer

Tonight is Lag B’Omer, at least here in Australia.  I realize that for many of our readers, Lag B’Omer won’t start until tomorrow night, but anyway, it’s a good enough time to start thinking about it.

Lag B’Omer is one of those holidays I’ve enjoyed ever since I discovered it, without even knowing why or understanding the real meaning behind it.  And even still, it seems that no matter how much I learn about Lag B’Omer, how many hours I spend researching it or learning or reading up on it, all the things I learn slip right out of my mind as soon as I see that first bonfire of the evening, hear the first child’s excited laugh, smell that first marshmallow roasting.

The truth is, I think in some ways that this is how all Jewish holidays should be.  They should be so overwhelmingly full of a sense of joy that we have no space left in us for deep contemplation.  Not that we shouldn’t study or learn – of course we should! – but that, at their core, we have to recognize that our holidays are always just a bit beyond our level of true comprehension.

And it’s not just holidays that are like this, but really anything at all that has to do with Judaism.  There are so many levels of understanding, so many things that we have to learn (70 explanations for every part of the Torah!), and yet, even learning every single one of them will never bring us to the level of comprehension of their power and meaning that G-d experiences and has.  The sages say that if we understood even at the tiniest level what power saying Tehillim (Psalms) has, we would do nothing but sit all day and recite them.  On our limited human level of understanding, we are restricted.  We have gravity.  We can reach only so high.  We cannot truly touch the divine.

But our neshamas (our souls) – ah! They are not so restricted. Within each of us is a bit of G-d that has the power to understand infinity.  Our souls are forever reaching for that closeness with G-d, that unity. That is why we are drawn to other people – they are also missing pieces of the G-dly puzzle – and why we are drawn to divinity.  The G-dly soul within us yearns to be reunited.

I think this is why there are certain times when we can just lose ourselves in a holiday.  Especially on a mystical holiday like Lag B’Omer, I feel as if my soul is reaching for spirituality and the divine.  ”Down, intellect!” it commands, even though it is usually my intellect through which I most connect. “Down, intellect!” shouts my soul, “This is one thing that is far, far beyond your comprehension!”  And so, I forget everything I’ve studied, everything I’ve learned… And, like the flames of the bonfires we will light tonight, my soul leaps and reaches up, and I surrender to the joy of the moment, the joy of the mysticism, the joy of incomprehension, the joy of unity, the joy of being close, in some small way, to Hashem.

It’s been too long since I last wrote a post.   It brings me to an interesting realization: travel can be hard work, but it also guarantees a certain amount of leisure time.  In some countries you can spend the whole day just trying to get yourself from one town to another, find something kosher to eat, and find a place to sleep that’s moderately clean (relatively speaking).  You end those days exhausted.  Even on a day when you’re doing nothing but exploring and having fun, you collapse into bed at night as if you have just worked a long day.

So in travel I’m discovering that I sometimes take leisure time for granted.  The fact that I can sit down and write when I feel like it (even if I can’t always get internet to post them) is something I took for granted for far too long.  There’s a certain freedom to having no outwardly-imposed restrictions on your time.  Even if your days are full to the brim and very busy, you can choose to slow down if you want to.

My time in Sydney has provided me with more of a sense of stability.  Staying put for a while is a totally different lifestyle!  It has its benefits, which our style of travel cannot offer.  I have friends here and, after moving into an apartment this week, I have an idea at least of where I’ll be sleeping at night!  Sydney doesn’t offer the kosher food choices that America does (even in a 7-11 in the middle of nowhere) but it offers far more kosher variety than Peru or Jordan, Nepal or China.  It would seem that life is easy and routine.

But the truth is that even if you’re not actively on the move, you can keep travelling.  The key to travel is making the most of your time and your space.  When Rabbi Ben and I spent three weeks in Hampi, India, we didn’t have internet (I think I was online maybe 2 hours total in 3 weeks!).  During the weeks I spent in Pokhara, Nepal, I only had electricity a few hours a day.  But spending a longer period of time in a place doesn’t mean that you fall into a routine, not necessarily.  It only happens if you allow it to.

A few weeks ago, I was walking in Bondi (a suburb of Sydney) on a Friday night on my way to Shabbat dinner.  As I walked, I noticed that a front window of a house I was passing was wide open.  Inside, someone was watching television.  They were watching golf.  Now, no offense to anyone out there who’s a fan, but golf has got to be one of the most boring sports ever invented.  It’s even more boring than baseball!  Very little happens and what does happen, happens slowly, and I cannot but imagine that it is even more boring on television than in real life! (This does not, of course, apply to mini-golf, which even as an adult I still find insanely amusing.)

Anyway, there I was, walking on a pretty fall evening to a beautiful and warm Shabbat table with friends, and inside this house is some person wasting time watching golf on television.  I felt so bad for them!  I was celebrating Shabbat, the holy Sabbath, full of joy and love, and there was someone who was wasting time, hours they’ll never get back.

When I am old (please G-d!), I will look back on my life and say that I have done a lot.  That even if I stayed in one place for years, I never let myself fall into a rut, always sought out some new and challenging experience.  I don’t want to look back on my life and wonder where the years went… and then recall that I went to work all day, then came home and watched golf on television.

And you know what? The truth is that as I settle in one spot for a while, I am still the same expat, ever on the move.  The result is that I now have far less leisure time than I ever did when I travelled because my days and nights are full.  I still don’t have time for television.  And that’s the way it should be for all of us, whether travelling or staying put.  We should always strive to make our lives count to the fullest, no matter how we define it.  Whether you’re spending your days in prayer to Hashem or working on self-improvement or simply learning something new, always, always make your life count!

If anyone is looking for a Lag b’omer party on the North Shor ein Sydney Australia, oyu may want to visit Chabad of North Shore. Please G-d I’ll be doing a fire juggling and twirling show. Hope to see you there.

Today marks one year since my paternal grandmother ‘Phaga bas Kalman,’ past away. Time has gone bye yet it feels like only yesterday she was in the room smiling with us. There is something incredibly special and beautiful about a Jewish mother that even inspired the famous song ‘a yidishe Mama.’ The sweetness, the love and the caring displayed by a women who spends her life looking after her children and grandchildren while staying strong to G-d and her faith.

I have met many old ladies in the world, some in nursing homes and others on a bus or in a shop. It’s sad how many old people become bitter and angry as they continue to age.

To the women who is beautiful on the inside, she will grow more beautiful with every passing day. This was Grandma.

We love you and miss you, and hope you have found resting place in eternity.

As Jews we believe in the afterlife and that after the should has served its time here on earth it returns to its maker. Every year from after its transition from earth to heaven it moves up a level to a more refind spritual place. We celebrate on the anniversary of the day of the passing becaouse we know the soul is progressing.

The common Jewish custom and practice is to make a L’cahinm, a toast to the departed one and make some blessings over food. We will use the name of the departed and toast that their soul should have an elevation.

To celebrate Jewish mothers I thought to share the following:

“What their Jewish Mothers might have said”

MONA LISA’S JEWISH MOTHER:
“After all that money your father and I
spent on braces, that’s the biggest smile
you can give us?”

COLUMBUS’ JEWISH MOTHER:
“I don’t care what you’ve discovered, you
still could have written!”

MICHELANGELO’S JEWISH MOTHER:
“Can’t you paint on walls like other children?
Do you have any idea how hard it is to get
that stuff off the ceiling?”

NAPOLEON’S JEWISH MOTHER:
“All right, if you aren’t hiding your report
card inside your jacket, take your hand
out of there and show me.”

ABRAHAM LINCOLN’S JEWISH MOTHER:
“Again with the hat? Can’t you just wear
a baseball cap like the other kids?”

“The best & most beautiful things cannot be seen or heard, they must be felt with the heart!”

~Helen Keller

Lately I’ve been finding chametz everywhere.

Most people seem to think that because I’ve been living out of a backpack for so long, it surely should be easy to locate all my chametz and rid myself of it. Lucky girl, they think, her Pesach cleaning will only take a few minutes – mine will take a few days, or a few weeks!

But it’s not true.  You’d be amazed at how well you can hide little things in a backpack.  You’d be shocked at how much chametz I’ve actually come across.  Whether it’s an itty bitty candy bar I’d squirreled away for a special occasion then forgotten about (I do that more often than I should!) or a bar of handmade oatmeal soap, I am finding chametz in all sorts of crazy places.

For those of you who don’t know, “chametz” is what we would call “leavening” in English, although that doesn’t quite capture the whole gist of the word.  It encompasses everything that either is leavened (e.g., cookies), is used to leaven (e.g., yeast), or could become leavened (e.g., flour). Basically, everything that’s not matzah and comes from one of the 5 grains (wheat, oats, spelt, rye, and barley) is forbidden on Pesach (Passover).  We aren’t even allowed to own it.

Most people liken chametz to our egos.  Just as the grain in bread is “puffed up” with air, so too are we “puffed up” with our own sense of self, and self-importance.

Fitting, then, that just one week before Pesach our Torah portion describes the sacrifices.  Fitting because we notice something very interesting about them.  In almost all of them, chametz is forbidden.  Even when flour and oil are offered, they are fired so quickly that they pretty much turn instantly into matzah – no time to rise!

Of course, we should take this to mean that if we are coming to G-d to make an offering we should come without our egos.  We should approach G-d with complete humility. Nullification of the self allows room for G-d to enter.

But chametz is offered on two special occasions: the thanksgiving offering (after one’s life has been saved) and the Shavuot offering. The thanksgiving offering makes a lot of sense.  After all, we are not concerned about approaching G-d with our egos when He has just saved our lives! We are grateful to Him and we express that gratitude not just with the offering, but by sharing a 24-hour long meal with our family and friends, giving ample opportunities to talk all about the great thing G-d just did for us.  If you are going to G-d with gratitude, you are not going with ego.

There are many possible explanations for the Shavuot bread offering, but my feeling is that it is similar.  Having spent 49 days counting the omer and focusing on removing the egos from within us, we have finally prepared ourselves to approach G-d even with our leavening.  Our egos have been nullified and we can, on the holiday when we celebrate receiving the Torah, approach G-d as ourselves, in tact, without having to remove parts of ourselves.

But before we can get to the stage when we can offer up our whole selves, we have to nullify our egos.  That process starts with Pesach, when we spend 8 days foregoing our egos, giving up our “leavening” and just being (and eating) “matzah.”  And the start of that process is right now, when we begin cleaning our homes – and our lives – of chametz.

So it doesn’t matter how light you travel.  There is always some chametz hiding somewhere in that backpack of yours, and you may have to look in some unlikely places to find it.  Whether yours is hiding in your liquor cabinet or is in your can of spray deodorant, I guarantee you that there is chametz in your life.  And this is the time to be rid of it.

Good luck with all your Pesach cleaning – both physical and spiritual!

Riding on Camels through the desert in Israel..or perhaps sleeping on camels in the desert in Israel

It is very common for us to set out on a road trip and after driving for a bit, someone will recite Tefilat Haderech (the traveler’s prayer) and everyone else will respond ‘amen.’

When Rachel and I did a week-long camel riding trip in the desert in Rajasthan, we left the city on camel back and I guess that at some point the same thing would happen as if we were in a car; we would say Tefilat Haderech – only this time while on the back of a camel. I had the same situation when going for a four-day camel trek in Israel, though with the group I was part of, we mostly walked and did not ride the camels.

So can one say Tefilat Haderech while riding on a camel… or what about a horse or any other animal for that matter?

This is obviously an issue because people were traveling on animals before cars. According to halacha/Jewish law one should stop their animal if possible. This would apply to stopping a car as well. Stopping a ship or a plane may not be possible.

Some other issue to take into acount is that one should not say a bracha if there is an unpleasant smell. The question would be: if there is a bad smell coming from the camel (a combination of camel breath, camel farts, and wet camel hair generally constitutes a very bad smell!) one should probably get off the camel and walk a few feet away.

The first time I experienced this was in Los Angeles, California. I was spending Shabbat there and my friend took me to one of the Chabad houses. We got there fifteen minutes before Mincha and the Friday night service were to begin, and a good thing that was! Set up was a small Kiddush and there were some dozen men eating and drinking. This initially struck me as strange because my entire life I have been accustomed to there being a Kiddush after the services, not before.

The Shaliach/Rabbi explained it to me. “We’re not having a big meal because this would not be permitted. One should not eat late on a Friday afternoon, so not to spoil the appetite for the Friday night Shabbat meal. What we have is a small snack; some crackers, a few dips, a bit of cold cuts, and of course a few l’chaims on whisky and vodka. This way everyone can have a bit of a schmooze and catch up on the week’s happenings before the service begins and there is no pressure to talk during the service. Further, many people have had a long day at work and are tired and hungry and want to rush through the service and go home. But if we have a couple of l’chaims and a light snack, people then have the energy to sing and dance through the service.”

I really like this idea. At the moment I don’t have a synagogue of my own but if I did, maybe I’d implement it. I can’t see any halachic issue with it, provided one does not eat too much and ruin their appetite for the Friday night meal. But I think it’s nice to sit down with some friends and catch up on the week before the davening starts.

What are your thoughts on this? Do they do this in your shul? Do you like this idea? Yes or no? Please share a comment. Thanks.