There is a certain yungerman learning at Yeshivas Mir
who, for more than twenty years, has a very special
avodoh during Sefiras HaOmer. From Pesach to
Shavuos -- every day of those seven weeks except for the
first day of Pesach itself -- he takes one of the 48 ways by
which one acquires Torah as listed in the sixth perek
of Pirkei Ovos and does his best to embody it.
It seems that his understanding is that each of these
kinyanim is a steppingstone to the next; having
acquired "learning" (the first way) leads to an advanced
ability in "listening" (the second way), but only if one
works at it. As such it appears that just as Klal
Yisroel moved upwards through 49 sha'arei tumah to
reach an apex at kabolas haTorah on Sinai, so too an
earnest individual has to make his way step by step in order
to achieve a personal kabolas haTorah on Shavuos.
Easier said than done. Yet it might be worthwhile considering
what this period of mourning is about, in order to be able to
do a better job of observing it.
Talmidei Rebbi Akiva
The gemora Yevomos (62b) tells us: "They say that
Rebbi Akiva had 12,000 pairs of talmidim from Geveth
to Antipras, all of whom died within a short time because
they were not sufficiently respectful of each other. So the
world remained without Torah until Rebbi Akiva came to
Rabboseinu Shebedorom and taught them: Rebbi Meir and Rebbi
Yehuda and Rebbi Yossi and Rebbi Shimon and Rebbi Eliezer ben
Shmua. They brought it back to its former glory. We learned
in a Beraissa: All of his previous talmidim died
between Pesach and Atzeres. Rav Chamah ben Abba, or perhaps
it was Rebbi Hiyyah bar Ovin said, All of them died a
terrible death. And what was it? Rav Nachman said they
choked."
There are several points in this enigmatic passage that
require explanation. Why does the midrash explicitly
call them "pairs of talmidim"? Further, as Rav Moshe
Aaron Stern zt'l once pointed out, how is it that
these last four talmidim became so great even though
they must not have been worthy of being in the original
chaburah? And last, why does the gemora make a
point of telling us exactly how the earlier talmidim
died?
The Ein Yaakov here holds that each of the
talmidim died simply due to his lack of mutual
admiration for his fellow talmid, while the
Maharal learns that the midrash is not about a
lack of esteem on a personal level, but rather deficiency in
their respect for anyone else's Torah.
If one is looking for something to admire in friends and
acquaintances, it might be best to appreciate their Torah.
Yet the talmidim of Rebbi Akiva apparently overlooked
this point, possibly because their own greatness in Torah
allowed them to grasp what we might consider abstract
concepts in such a concrete way that they were simply
incapable of sufficiently valuing anything but their own
opinion.
This is what Rav Eliezer Eliyohu Dessler zt'l in the
Michtav MeEliahu calls an aveiroh bedakus, a
transgression by someone at so high a level that we have no
capability of accurately grasping it.
Further, the midrash calls them "pairs of
talmidim" since they did not properly value even their
chavrusa's line of thinking. How can that be? A really
good chavrusa,is an invaluable aid in learning.
Getting through a difficult sugya can be a little like
hiking over mountainous terrain; sometimes you can't get over
the rough spots by yourself and without help you would never
make it.
Rav Eliezer Wolf zt'l, who began his career at the
Chofetz Chaim in New York and whose willingness to suffer
just to get pshat was almost impossible to bear, once
asked, "Even if a small child came up and offered you a
correct explanation of Tosafos, wouldn't you be
grateful?"
To be one of Rebbi Akiva's talmidim meant that your
very being was attached to Torah. As such, denial of the
Torah in any respect, even casting aspersion on someone
else's Torah, was tantamount to self-destruction. Thus though
their deaths were due to natural causes from a disease called
askarah, they died of chenek as though being
punished for having struck their mother or father, since in
effect they turned against their immediately visible source
of life in this world.
Further, as the Ein Yaakov points out, the passing of
so many talmidim could not possibly have served to
expiate the sins of a generation. When a tzaddik or
godol hador leaves us for the next world, he
alleviates the major transgressions of an entire generation.
Seeing that we are now bereft of a much-needed leader and
father figure causes us to repent. Thus no one else needs to
die. This did not apply to the talmidim of Rebbi
Akiva.
But nonetheless the mourning customs of the Sefirah
period are meant to commemorate their tragic end. Clearly
there is a lesson to be learned here.
Bar Yochai and a Lesson in Kindness
Probably most children will be only too happy to give you a
brief synopsis of the story of Rebbi Shimon bar Yochai as it
appears in maseches Shabbos 33b. You will hear how he
fled the Romans in order to learn Torah and how he and his
son, Rebbi Eliezer, finally hid in a cave for years, buried
up to their necks in sand. They will tell you all about the
miraculous carob tree and spring that appeared nearby.
But what your young raconteur may miss out is the end of the
tale: It took two tries before Rebbi Shimon was able to come
back out into the world, and during the first attempt he was
so critical of others' mundane concerns that he killed a
farmer by merely looking at him. A Heavenly voice sent him
back to his cave before he destroyed the world.
The second attempt went much better. Rebbi Shimon encountered
a man carrying two large bundles of myrtle branches, twice as
much as necessary in honor of Shabbos. In hearing the man say
that one was for Zochor and one for Shomor,
Rebbi Shimon was able to appreciate the ability of Klal
Yisroel to serve HaKodosh Boruch Hu.
When the father and son finally got back to town, Pinchas ben
Yo'ir, Rebbi Shimon's son-in-law, took them to the bathhouse.
Seeing how their flesh was torn and cracked and looked like
raw meat, Rebbi Pinchas wept. They had consigned themselves
to living death and passed under middas hadin in order
to bring Toras hanistar to Klal Yisroel.
But propagating this new aspect of Torah was not Rabbi
Shimon's first priority. The beginning of the midrash
relates how Rabbi Shimon incurred the wrath of the Romans by
denying their desire to help the nations they had conquered;
he publicly declared that all of their public works -- roads
and viaducts, circuses and baths -- were all for their own
pleasure and self-interest.
However Rebbi Shimon himself now sought to emulate no less
than Yaakov Ovinu by doing something for the commonweal.
Having found out that what really troubled people was a place
where the graves were not clearly marked such that the
Cohanim could not avoid them, he miraculously
discovered precisely where the dead had been laid to rest and
set up proper boundaries. And when an old man quipped that
Rebbi Shimon had "purified the grave yard" and was summarily
destroyed by one of Rabbi Shimon's killing looks, no bas
kol came to reprimand him.
The Way Out
Rebbi Shimon seems to have found the way out. Moreover, the
date of his passing marks the end of most of the mourning
customs of Sefirah for bnei Torah. Somehow
Rabbi Shimon's approach has rectified the situation. Could it
be that being able to appreciate someone else's greatness,
his willingness to be subject to the will of HaKodosh
Boruch Hu, is a way of overcoming the pettiness of our
endless concern for importance in terms of society?
What exactly did Rebbi Shimon see the second time he came out
of his hiding place? There used to be a custom, still
maintained by some Sephardic kabbalists, of taking a
myrtle branching when one comes home Shabbos at night
and holding it while encircling the Shabbos table singing
Sholom Aleichem. Some take two, as the late Rav
Mordecai Sharabi zt'l was known to do. Thus Rebbi
Shimon saw a man running erev Shabbos with two bundles
of myrtle and asked him, "Why so much? One is enough!" And
the man answered, "One for `Shomor', and one for
`Zochor'!"
Essentially, there are two aspects of keeping Shabbos:
negatively by avoiding any of the issurim of
Shabbos and refraining from work on the day on which
Hashem rested from the labor of Creation; and positively by
sanctifying the holy Shabbos through rest. This,
according to the Tosafos in Perek Klal Godol,
is signified by 'Shomor' and 'Zochor'. Having
met an apparently simple Jew who was so eager to keep
Shabbos in every way, even though he might not fully
comprehend what he was doing, Rebbi Shimon was suddenly able
to see himself in a different context. One's own greatness
does not have to hinge on everyone else's lack of Torah and
understanding. On the contrary, true prominence in this world
can be achieved by valuing others capabilities. A just
measure for sizing up one's fellow Jew is his willingness to
accept Divine authority.
Perhaps now we can answer a question we didn't even bother to
ask in the beginning. How is it that this yungerman in
the Mir could make do with 48 steps when seven weeks come to
a total of 49 days?
The answer is Pesach. During the last year of his life they
took the Vishnitzer Rebbi, the Imrei Emes, up to Meron
sometime around the beginning of Nisan. One of his attendants
leaned over the Rebbi as he was praying and heard him
whisper, "Please, Hashem, just give me a little daas
in achilas matzoh!"
Matzoh is sometimes called the "bread of affliction." Some
authorities hold the Egyptians fed it to their slaves
because, though matzoh is notably hard on the digestion, it
stays in your system longer.
We not only eat matzoh on Pesach, we don't even have any
chometz around the house. That is how much we want
matzoh, because eating it is a way of being totally subject
to the will of Hashem. Achilas matzoh is a means of
acquiring da'as, understanding. So Pesach has its own
goal.
And finally an answer to an almost forgotten question: Rebbi
Akiva's later talmidim succeeded where his previous,
possibly greater talmidim, did not. Why?
Because they taught Torah through their personal example,
thus restoring the world to its former glory. Acquiring Torah
may not be enough; one has to make a kinyan in it that
will counter the Torah's characteristic bolstering of one's
self-esteem. Such ahavas Torah is the road to Har
Sinai, and it's high time we got going.
