It is a striking irony that we associate the period of Sefirat HaOmer with the sad limitations of mourning when in its original iteration it was a time of unbounded joy and possibility. We had soared out of Egypt as if on the wings of eagles, miraculously liberated from slavery and headed to the singular experience of heavenly revelation at Sinai where we would bond with God and receive our national mandate and mission statement. Yet today our experience of these times is defined by the deaths during this same period centuries later of 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva who failed to treat one another with respect, she-lo nahagu kavod zeh bazeh (Yevamot 62b). What happened?
Our Sefirah is different because our Pesach and Shavuot are different. The Jews of those times were eyewitnesses to events unparalleled in human history. There was no need for a Haggadah at the Pesach meal in Egypt and no parent had to tell the story of Sinai to their children and grandchildren as they had all experienced those events together in real time. Later generations, however, would only keep those stories alive by storytelling and communication, by one generation being ready to learn from the other. Beyond the stories, Sinai was when God taught us the Torah. While we learned it then directly from Him and from the authoritative prophecy of Moshe, subsequently we learn Torah from generation to generation and from each other.
In the absence of direct experience and divine revelation, the quest for knowledge and understanding is a joint venture that requires people to learn with and from each other. That is why the Haggadah is not a text to recite but a subject to discuss and why even when one has no child or spouse present to pose the questions, even if the others at the Seder are very knowledgeable and even when one is alone, we must ask questions and engage in discussion rather than simply retell the narrative (Pesachim 116a). The skills of listening and learning that we build at the Seder must grow and mature further to enable us to truly know and understand the Torah of Shavuot.
This was the posture that the students of Rabbi Akiva lacked. The students of the sage who elevated love for our neighbors, v’ahavta l’rei-acha kamocha, as the core principle of the Torah (Sifra Kedoshim 14:2), were not disrespectful or nasty to each other. Their failure lay in their not treating one another with honor. This stood in contrast to the sages of Bavel who would treat their peers with the honor usually reserved for teachers, standing up respectfully when they entered the room and rending their garments in mourning each other’s deaths. As Rashi explained (Bava Metzia 33a), because they shared knowledge and answered each other’s questions in their Beit Midrash discussions, they viewed and treated their peers as their teachers. Rabbi Akiva’s students may have loved each other and acted respectfully, but they were not ready to show the honor, deference and humility that enables people to learn from each other.
Respect and love are nice things that expand our caring hearts, but honor and humility are what we need to grow wiser and better.
Lag BaOmer, the yahrzeit of Rav Shimon bar Yochai, provides a break in the mourning period of Sefirah. The Talmud (Succah 45b) reports in his name: “I have seen bnei aliyah, those dedicated to spiritual growth, and they are few. If they number one thousand, I and my son are among them. If they number one hundred, I and my son are among them. And if they number two, I and my son are they.”
What if they numbered only one? Which one of them would that be?
Rav Shimon knew that learning and spiritual growth cannot be achieved alone. He knew it in theory, as the sages often warned Torah scholars not to study alone (Berachot 63b, Taanit 7a, Makkot 10a). And he knew it from the experience of spending 13 years sequestered in the cave studying with – and therefore both teaching and learning from – his son. His growth was not and could not have been achieved independently. If the bnei aliyah would number only one – they would not exist at all.
It is not enough to act respectfully and to feel love for each other; we must be ready to learn from each other. That is what will transform this Sefirah period mei’eivel l’yom tov, from mourning to celebration.