How to Be Ignited by the Flames of Lag B’Omer

Way beyond the BBQ: Fire and the Essence of Lag B’Omer

Fire. It’s one of the scarier elements of nature, and if you’re pyrophobic it can be downright terrifying. But fire is also a life-giving force. It provides warmth and light. It is the sun that shines upon us and the hearth that wraps us in its cozy embrace. It can cause conflagration and devastation, destroying everything in its path.  But it also shows us the way when we are lost and confused. It keeps us warm on cold winter nights. It nourishes us, cooking our food since the beginning of time. 

And of course, fire has a large place in our spiritual lives as well. With fire, we usher the Shabbos Queen into our homes, and we wistfully escort her out our door. Fire spreads the word of our faith and endurance for the eight nights of Chanukah, and fire purged our home of chametz just a few short weeks ago. And now, our landscape will be aflame with the lights of dozens of fires celebrating Lag B’omer.

Fire has so much depth and symbolism in our mesorah. Here are just a few of the ways we connect to fire, and how fire connects to Lag B’omer:

Torah

The Hillulah D’Rabbi Shimon that stands at the core of our Lag B’omer celebrations is a celebration of Torah and its place in our lives. Rabbi Shimon requested that his yahrzteit be commemorated not as a day of mourning for his loss but a day of celebration for the Torah he left behind. Fire is a metaphor for Torah in numerous ways. 

Ki ner mitzvah v’Torah ohr. When the road is dark and confusing, it lights the way so that we see the twists and turns, so that we know where to go. Without Torah, everything is murky; with Torah, it is crystal clear. We live in a generation whose general society is drowning in immorality, where right and wrong are ambivalent, and where the concepts of justice and virtuosity are twisted and corrupt. It is only those who have the Torah who can see clearly, who know right from wrong and good from bad. We have a path and a direction and it is illuminated by the only true source of light that we are so blessed to have been gifted. 

Torah also provides warmth. The world is not only a dark place, it is a cold place too. When we don’t have the Torah to keep us warm, to provide the electricity that wires us straight to our Father, we can freeze to death. We are alone and lonely, and the friends we have made are just an illusion. With Torah, we are protected from the elements. We are surrounded by warmth and protection. 

Torah also provides nourishment. It is the fire that cooks our food and provides us with a warm, home cooked meal. Without Torah, we starve. Our neshamah goes hungry because it yearns for the sustenance that Torah provides. 

We are in the midst of counting the days until we commemorate the day our nation was forever changed. The day we became the am hanivchar. We are celebrating the day that we received our sustenance, our warmth, our guiding light that carries us through every moment of every day. Torah Orah. 

Neshamah

Ner Elokim Nishmas Adam. A person’s neshamah is compared to fire. The pintele Yid that lives inside all of us is not just any fire. It’s a magical fire, a ner tamid that never dies down. Generations of trauma, of crushing influences, even of blissful ignorance may attempt to douse it, to suffocate it and extinguish its essence. But nothing will ever succeed. Even when it seems to have burned down to its last dying embers, the pintele Yid is always burning, dormant, waiting to come back to life and burst into flames. This is because the source of this flame is eternal; the chelek Elokah m’maal. 

A flame always strives upward. You can turn the candle upside down or sideways, but the flame will always leap toward the heavens. A Yid’s neshamah always strives for kedushah. We may sometimes fall into the trap of gashmiyus, turning ourselves inside out and upside down to fall for the latest materialistic trappings, but our neshamah is always there to remind us of what is truly important, to remind us of where our heart truly leans. It reaches for its Source and never wavers. 

We can nourish this flame with the oil of Torah, the fuel that keeps it burning bright and insusceptible to the forces at work attempting to extinguish it. 

Lag B’omer is a celebration of the eternity of the neshamah. The fire represents the neshamah of Rebbe Shimon, the part of him that lives on, blazing a fiery path of clarity in a dark world, long after his guf has departed. 

And it is a reminder to each of us to ensure that we, too, live our lives in a way that our spark will continue to illuminate the world long after our time in it is up. We may not author the Zohar, but we each, in our own way, has the power to make an impact. We each can use the torch we’ve been granted to bring light to our corner of the universe in an everlasting way. That is the power of the neshamah. 

Hislahavus

We can sometimes make the mistake of falling into a rut with our avodas Hashem. We put ourselves on autopilot as we go about our daily rituals, focusing on the mundane and just getting our obligations done. Our Yiddeshkeit becomes lukewarm and we forget about the joy and the passion that must be at its core. The word hislahavus, enthusiasm, is from the shoresh of flame. Our avodas Hashem cannot be passive. It must be a fire that burns within us, radiating outward to influence those around us with its energy. 

As with fire, though, sometimes our passion can overstep its boundaries. Sometimes it can cause more harm than good, singeing, or even burning down structures and forests around us. How do we know where to draw the line? How do we know when our rischa d’Oraysa has morphed into unhealthy zealotry that is counterproductive to our avodas Hashem? We can’t always know it on our own. That is why we have da’as Torah. That is why we are shoel eitzah and why we constantly check in with those greater than us. They keep us in check and help us channel our passion in the right direction. Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai left his cave with a passion so powerful it scorched those he saw, necessitating his return to the cave. He taught us that we can’t allow our own hislahavus to cause us to look down on others who may not hold the same standards that we do.  

We also have to steer clear of the forces that try to extinguish that flame. The leitzanus achas that douses the spark of inspiration. The yetzer hara that suffocates our flame, sucking the oxygen out of it with tools like temptation, fatigue, insecurity, and so many others. 

Sometimes, our passion is ignited with a burst of inspiration. A powerful shiur. A stirring display of unity. We feel that burst deep within us, and we wonder how to hold onto it. That spark is like the match that strikes with a burst of flame. It is short-lived though. In seconds that match is consumed and the flame dies down. The only way we can ensure the flame lives longer is if we touch it to a wick before it burns down. We need to turn inspiration to action, before the inspiration dies down and the passion is extinguished. Before you leave the room where that inspiring shiur took place, make a kabbalah. The achdus of a kumzitz lights a fire in you; make a gesture. Share a smile. Mend a rift. Take that match and don’t let it burn out before you’ve passed the torch and ensured your passion has a chance at eternity. 

Ahavas Yisroel

Lag B’omer is not only all about Torah, it’s also all about ahavas Yisroel. The talmidim of Rebbe Akiva taught us with their lives valuable lessons on how to treat another Yid. We spend the entire sefirah working on our ahavas Yisroel, building the connection and the love in our hearts toward each of our sisters and brothers. It’s a prerequisite to receiving the Torah, that momentous occasion toward which we are counting down. K’ish echad b’lev echad. Our love is like a flame, spreading light and warmth to those around us. When we love our fellow Jew and demonstrate that love, we create an aura of warmth, a circle of fire that keeps everyone in its orbit sustained. 

When one candle lights another, the first candle doesn’t go out. We can spread our warmth and love without diminishing ourselves, as long as we nurture that flame and keep our own spark burning. 

Me’at min ha’or docheh harbeih min hachoshech. It takes just one flickering flame, one kindly gesture, to cut through the darkness of worlds of hurt and brokenness. And just like a fire started has the potential to spread in ways we can never imagine, we can’t fathom the ripples our actions, our demonstrations of love, will effect. 

When we light the Shabbos candles, we are bringing peace into our home. Light brings peace, and our love and connection bring peace into the world. And when we bring peace into the world by making room in our hearts for our brothers and sisters, we hope and pray that Hashem will bring the ultimate peace, the geulah sheleimah that is waiting for us to simply heal the hurt and stem the hate. It’s waiting for us to light the fire. 

As we stand around the medurah this Lag B’omer, let’s take a moment to look into those flames, to really, really look. And let us think of the ways we can bring each other closer, to set the pintele Yid aflame with the passion of our neshamah and draw ourselves and each other into the aura of the Torah. Let us show Hashem that we are ready for Him to illuminate the way home for us today.