Folks,
It must be some kind of sign; our arruda is flowering. A pungent-smelling herb, I first encountered arruda at the home of my wife’s grandmother, Grace Hasson. Used traditionally in some Sephardic households to protect against misfortune and the evil eye, I have been coaxing one along in the backyard for the last three years. When it finally doubled in size this winter, I wondered if the plant was trying to tell me something. Were bad times coming? But when its small yellow flowers opened just before Lag B’Omer, a day of joy, that message seemed softened, even reversed: a new and more hopeful time was beginning.
Thanks to the generosity and good timing (and good taste) of two MegilLA readers, I can send out this issue to our entire list. But to continue next week, more readers need to step up and become paid subscribers.
Edmon J. Rodman
GUIDE FOR THE JEWPLEXED
Reading the flames of Lag B'Omer
Edmon J. Rodman
There’s nothing like a Jewish holiday where you get to set something on fire.
Usually it’s a candle, but on Lag B’Omer you can amp that up and light a bonfire.
You can even use the fire to your light up your mind.
The fire gets lit every year on the 33rd day of the counting of the omer which begins Thursday night.
Coming to us from antiquity, and touching us this year in a most timely way, Lag B’Omer marks the ending of a plague during the Bar Kochba Revolt in the Second Century CE. According to tradition, students and soldiers were dying and the plague ended on that day.
Looking into the holiday’s name, “Lag” literally means 33. The Hebrew letter lamed, (the “L” sound) has the numerical value of 30, the gimmel, (the “G” sound) the value of 3.
Though a minor holiday between Passover and Shavuot, Lag B’Omer is important as a day of relaxation and outdoor recreation during the otherwise traditional mourning period of the omer.
The day comes as a break in a time of year that for many of us has been filled with anxiety and anticipation; after you have worked through scheduling and getting your COVID vaccine shot and doing your taxes.
The fire’s flames are said to represent the Kabalistic teachings of Rabbi Simeon bar Yochai, a disciple of Rabbi Akiva, who many think brought light to the world by his authoring of the Zohar (Radiance).
Bar Yochi’s yahrzeit is observed on Lag B’Omer, and his tomb, located on Mt. Meron, is not far from Tzvat, a small town in northern Israel that for many centuries has been a center of Kabalistic thought. On Lag B’Omer, many flock to the site to ask for his “next worldly” intercession in matters of health and peace. Hopefully some of those seekers are asking for an end to the pandemic.
After a year like this last one, I need to recover a spark of my own radiance, so I plan to light a fire in the backyard. My hope is that a bit of urban camping; sitting by the fire, with a beer and a book will be relaxing and quieting.
I am planning to use the night full of fire to open my eyes to masters, mystics and other assorted mishegoss. Pirke Avot, Ethics of the Fathers, (2:8) tells us, “Warm yourself by the fire of the sages….” So, I am pulling together a few Jewish books to read by the fire.
Note: Jewish books seem to have their own Law of Accumulation. Friends recommend them, even drop them by. Intriguing titles speak to you from sales tables and book signings.
Books accumulate, first into low piles, then stacks, then a single skyscraper, then a veritable downtown of books. And then comes the realization: I haven’t opened a single one. Where is the time? Each book has a flame of its own, and opening them first by firelight should be a fine way to grow the glow.
Don’t have a fire pit or fireplace? Not to worry. try reading by candlelight. Lag B’Omer has no requirement for flame size.
First title to be opened by firelight is “kaddish.com” by Nathan Englander. Looking at the back cover blurb, an adult Jewish son, upon his Orthodox father’s death, is supposed to say kaddish, but refuses. To resolve the obligation, he hires a stranger to say it for him on a website called kaddish.com. Sounds like a plot that should generate some sparks of its own.
Next up is “Growing Up Below Sea Level.” A few months ago, I attended a Zoom session with the author Rachel Biale. During the hour, the author revealed some of the trials of growing up on a kibbutz, and in particular the sociology of a childhood spent often away from her parents in the community’s children’s house. Should shed some light.
The night can be fun too, so I also want to open a guilty pleasure. As you may have figured out by now, I am a collector of all things dealing with LA Jewish history. During my search in books, I have discovered all manner of unrighteous remnants, including a Wonder Book of short stories based on the Soupy Sales TV show which I watched religiously in the 1960s.
Soupy Sales, born Milton Supman, was born to Jewish parents in a small town in North Carolina. (Sales once joked that local Ku Klux Klan members bought the sheets used for their robes from his father's store.) I am particularly excited to read a story about a Yiddish-surnamed detective character he portrayed from time to time on the show. In fact, to end the evening, “Philo Kvetch in “the Big Drip,” might be just the right way to douse the fire.
Seen on the Way: Pico/Robertson
Na-some bus? If you’re headed to a Lag B’Omer celebration, especially at Mt. Meron, Israel, this tie-dye-looking bus might be the way to go. The Hebrew on the side transliterates to Na Nach Nachma Nachman Me’uman a meditation and song used by an element of of Breslover Hasidim known as the Na Nachs. The Hebrew is a kind of kabbalistic formula derived from the Hebrew letters of the name Nachman, that is, Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, the founder of the Breslov movement.
In 1922, Rabbi Yisroel Ber Odesser, a Breslover Hasid, claimed to have received a petek (note) addressed to him from Rebbe Nachman, which doesn’t seem like news until you realize that the Rebbe died in 1810. The seventh line of this petek is signed Na Nach Nachma Nachman Meuman, which became Rabbi Odesser's personal meditation and song. Before dying, he passed the phrase down to a group of believers who formed the Na Nach movement. In Israel on On Lag B’Omer, today's followers show their exuberance. (See them HERE.)