Memories Blur
Rabbi Ron Shulman
Shabbat Behuotai 5771
Tomorrow will be Lag Ba’Omer, the 33rd day of our count toward 50 between Passover and Shavuot on the Jewish calendar.
Introducing this date, I recall the words of the contemporary philosopher Jacob Needleman, who was not talking about the Jewish calendar when he wrote, “Life itself is the mysterious, incomprehensible blending of the new and the old, of what already is and what is coming into being.”
In other words, life is the result of how we respond to those un-chosen opportunities and challenges that present themselves to us. This is true in our personal experiences following events that lead us toward changed circumstances. This is also true in a nation’s consciousness and the memories that define a people.
Lag Ba’Omer is a joyous day, a day of weddings, outings, happy gatherings, and haircuts for some. Why? Legend tells us that 24,000 students of Torah perished between Passover and Shavuot during the years of Roman rule in ancient Israel.
Was it a plague of illness or persecution? Memories blur. Was it during the Jewish uprising against Rome led by Bar Kochba in which Rabbi Akiba died? Memories blur. Is the number real or imagined? Memories blur.
The Talmud tells us, “It was said that Rabbi Akiba had twelve thousand pairs of disciples, from Gabbatha to Antipatris; and all of them died at the same time because they did not treat each other with respect.” Here, memory is not blurry. It’s moral.
When we don’t live according to our values and beliefs, when we don’t remember who we are and why we are as a people, a nation, or individuals striving to live with integrity, we cease being relevant.
I recently heard the story of an elderly woman who owned a popular bakery in her community. Word was that she made the best breads, cakes, and cookies anywhere in town. One day, a young man brandishing a gun entered the shop and demanded money from the register. “Listen to me,” she shouted. “I survived Auschwitz, you don’t scare me. Put down your gun. Put on this apron, and get into the backroom. You want some money? Earn it.”
He did. Shocked by her strength and indignation, this would be robber started working in the bakery. First, he washed pots, baking trays, utensils, and equipment. After a couple of months working regular hours, he started learning how to bake from his unexpected employer. He became her apprentice. She taught him her recipes and methods. He learned them all. Over the course of a few years, he became the new chief baker and her most trusted employee.
One day, the aging bakery owner called her protégé into the backroom. “Give me a dollar,” she demanded. “What? Why?” he asked. “Just give me a dollar,” she repeated. “Ok, fine. Here, take this dollar.” “Good,” she said smiling. “I’ve retired. You now own the bakery.”
I repeat this quotation. “Life itself is the mysterious, incomprehensible blending of the new and the old, of what already is and what is coming into being.”
Remember this. It’s also why we count the days at this season. Our values and ideals define us. When they blur, when we no longer remember our purpose, when we forget the lessons of our experiences, when our consciences dull, we lose our way. We go in the wrong direction.
The Torah’s vision of counting these 50 days we call “the Omer” was to remember God’s gifts of freedom and sustenance. Our daily count is an affirmation of the blessings in our lives we take for granted, and upon which we depend.
Onto this positive purpose, following the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, later tradition imposed sad memories. To honor the losses of our ancestors, this Omer season became a symbolic period of national mourning. No weddings, no music, less joy, and for some men, no cutting hair or shaving.
Lag Ba’Omer is a break, a day of relief and restoration, a day to do what hasn’t been done since Pesah. Why the 33rd day for this release? Good question! Memories blur. By one calculation there are 17 days during this 50 day period when mourning does not occur. The eight days of Passover, two days of Rosh Hodesh, the New Month, and 7 Sabbaths. 50 – 17 = 33!
Many years ago, a young woman asked me to co-officiate at her wedding with her fiancé’s Orthodox rabbi on an April Sunday. I looked at the calendar and explained that it was Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day at the beginning of the Omer period. I asked her if we could find another date a few weeks later. I was sure my rabbinic colleague would agree. “No,” she informed me. The other rabbi had already agreed. Wouldn’t I please join them?
I called my colleague, a rabbinic acquaintance, and asked him if he had agreed to perform this wedding on Yom HaShoah. “Indeed, yes, most certainly,” he told me. “What better way to mark that date’s significance than by starting a new Jewish family?” He quoted me a rabbinic teshuvah, Jewish legal decision, from a respected authority. I agreed to participate at the wedding.
Jewish law codes make this clear. There is a divergence of customs as to how long Omer restrictions apply. Some honor the full seven-week period. Others wait until Lag Ba’Omer, and still others see Rosh Hodesh Iyar, or Yom Ha’Atzmaut as the end of this symbolic national mourning. That has become my personal practice, to end the symbolic mourning of the Omer period after Israel Independence Day.
Almost 2,000 years following the events that shape this season’s spirit, the question is about memory’s length. I repeat. “Life itself is the mysterious, incomprehensible blending of the new and the old, of what already is and what is coming into being.”
Sadly, we are obligated to remember always our people’s pain and suffering. Happily, we must also reclaim the Torah’s sentiments and celebrate our people’s rebirth and renewal. As our memories blur, what events of long ago or recent days ought to continue their hold on us, and how long shall we mark them?
In our world of 24-hour news, the media have short attention spans. One day terrible floods in the Midwest capture our attention. Suddenly, Osama bin Laden’s demise is our major focus. Soon after that, a transgressing politician is embarrassed and his family publicly humiliated.
As our memories blur, what events of long ago or recent days ought to continue their hold on us, and how long shall we mark them? Someday in the future, my grandchildren will have no memory of my grandparents. My great-grandchildren may have no memory of me. Memories blur.
That’s why our values and beliefs must be clear, and passed on to those who come next. For when we don’t live according to our values and beliefs, when we don’t remember who we are and why we are as a people, a nation, or individuals striving to live with integrity, we cease being relevant.
Tomorrow will be the 33rd day of the Omer, Lag Ba’Omer. To mark the date, answer these four questions. What is your reason to be grateful? What is your reason to celebrate? What is your favorite recreation? Most important, what is your reason for being, and how will you let the rest of us know?
“Life itself is the mysterious, incomprehensible blending of the new and the old, of what already is and what is coming into being.”
© 2011 Rabbi Ronald J. Shulman
