
Religion

Lag B’Omer lights the fire within
It shouldn’t surprise you to learn that as an educator, my two favourite Lag B’Omer experiences revolve around what I experienced at school. The first is from my time at Phyllis Jowell Jewish Day School, where each year, I would dress up as Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, we would have me come out of a “cave”, and I would introduce students to some teachings of the Kabbalah. Lag B’Omer is the yahrzeit of the passing of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, the author of the holy Zohar, one of the primary kabbalistic texts.
I loved the mystique and drama of that exercise, reflective of the mystery of these deep spiritual teachings. My second experience was discovering that, at Herzlia, Lag B’Omer is also known as “Potato Day”. “Potato Day?” I hear you ask. What on earth do potatoes have to do with Lag B’Omer?” Well, since Lag B’Omer is traditionally celebrated with bonfires, the educators of the past decided to do something interactive with the fire – roast potatoes in the bonfires so that our pupils could “touch” and “taste” the fire in a safe and contained way.
But that point speaks to the tension at the heart of fire and our interaction with it. Fire is so powerful, so evocative, so symbolic, it speaks to something deep within us, and at the same time, it’s dangerous and wild. This was witnessed over the past few weeks, in which our beloved Israel dealt with some of the worst wildfires in its history. Thank G-d, no-one was killed, although 45 people were injured and more than 10 000 had to be evacuated. Likewise, here in Cape Town, it has become increasingly common for massive fires to rage on the mountains, and in April, we had one of a similar size to the Jerusalem area wildfires. On a personal note, I’ll never forget the fire that destroyed Beit Midrash Morasha in Sea Point when I was the rabbi there in December 2018.
Yet the power that fire has when harnessed is civilisational and cannot be underestimated. Everything, from where we can live – in colder areas fire can keep us warm; what we can eat – foods that cannot be eaten raw; what tools we can use – smelting metal through fire; ceramics, and glass; gunpowder and explosives; the industrial revolution; the internal combustion engine; even rocket propulsion are all products of mankind’s mastery of fire.
This complexity isn’t, of course, lost on our sages, who see fire as a metaphor for the most spiritual and sublime of all things. In the final parsha of the Torah, the Torah itself is described as fire, and the Talmud (Gemara Beitza 25b) takes this further when it says, “From His right hand went a fiery law for them.” (Deuteronomy 33:2). “The Holy One, blessed be He, said, ‘The ways of these people, the Jews, are like fire, as, were it not for the fact that the Torah was given to the Jewish people, whose study and observance restrains them, no nation or tongue could withstand them.’”
Our sages are saying that Jews themselves have the nature of fire – passionate, powerful, changing the environment around us, but whether we’re a controlled and productive fire – taking us to the moon – or a wildfire causing destruction, depends on us controlling ourselves through the Torah. In this sense, the Torah is seen as a “controlled burn”, a fire that itself limits the otherwise unrestrained power of the Jewish people who can achieve so much, but not all of it good! As the great Jeff Goldblum said in Jurassic Park, “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.” The Torah is there to guide us in what we “should”, to direct us to a healthy expression of the creativity, drive, tenacity, and chutzpah that are defining factors of Jewish peoplehood.
Rabbi Tamir Granot, a wonderful rosh yeshiva in Israel, points out that when Hashem “reveals” Himself throughout the Torah, He usually does so in the form of fire. Think of the burning bush as an example. But it’s a fire always hidden and clothed inside something else – within a pillar of cloud, a thorn bush, or a cloud of incense. The fiery presence of Hashem, too, must be concealed, not to be made manifest in its fullness.
This doesn’t mean that we should dampen passion and drive, but we shouldn’t fear containing and directing it either. When we or our children and pupils really want to do something, the reflective process of deciding whether this is truly the best way to move forward is essential.
For practical celebrations of Lag B’Omer, every so often, the question comes up about the safety of lighting fires. This applies to Israel during this time – the dry season when fires can be more difficult to control – or in schools and other environments. The lesson in that regard should be clear: safety first. Lag B’Omer isn’t the celebration of destructive wildfire, but the fire that represents the power of creativity and drive, the power to change the world, when it’s properly contained and directed.
May Hashem bless us all with the fire of the rocket ship, taking us, our loved ones, and all of humanity to unprecedented heights of blessing and goodness.
Lag B’Omer sameach!
- Rabbi Sam Thurgood is head of Jewish Life and Learning at United Herzlia Schools.
