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9. Lag B’Omer
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9 Lag B’Omer The Work of the Chariot But they who trust in the Eternal shall renew their strength as eagles grow new plumes: They shall run and not grow weary; they shall march and not grow faint. —Isaiah 40:31 The thirty-third day of the Omer is a respite from a period of mourning that spans seven weeks, from Passover to Shavuot. Some sages have said that, on Lag B’Omer, a scourge on Rabbi Akiva’s students was lifted. Deep spiritual meaning is also attached to this minor holiday because of its association with one of the greatest students of Rabbi Akiva, the mystic Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai. In Israel, the holiday is celebrated by huge bonfires and outdoor games, and is a special favorite of teenagers. I am not especially mystical, and I have a healthy respect for fire. On our honeymoon, Lisa and I stayed in a country house in the Poconos lent to us by friends. Joan and her husband were kind enough to leave a bottle of Veuve Clicquot in the fridge, and candlesticks on the table. When it came time for Shabbat, we put candles in the candlesticks and lit them, somehow ignoring the fact that the candlesticks were themselves made of wood. Suffice it to say that the evening ended dramatically but not romantically, as we rushed to put out the flames. 118 The Work of the Chariot 119 Despite our misadventure, the connection between youth and fire is universal, as is the search for enlightenment. And so, on this numinous day, I sometimes recall one of the earliest rabbinic mystical themes, known as Ma’aseh Merkavah, “the work of the chariot.” Merkavah literature is based on the story of Ezekiel’s ascending chariot. It is reserved for only the most knowledgeable and brilliant minds. Jewish tradition teaches that whoever engages with these activities must be wise, well prepared, and at least forty years old. The characters in the short play below met none of those qualifications, and yet they experienced a unique ascent into an ecstatic realm all their own. Like the kabbalists of old, they had only their creativity to propel them to greater heights. Narrator: Lazy summer day circa 1983. August. Garbage day. The stifling heat and the stink make the blacktop shimmer. Summer camps and other supervised activities ended weeks ago, and suburban children are left to their own devices. Two girls around twelve years old are standing at the end of a long driveway. Of late, their afternoons are spent pulling each other around in a plastic milk crate with a long rope. No wheels are ever attached. The plastic edges of the crate melt as they scrape the blacktop. Sparks become visible once critical speed is achieved. Now they are looking for a new milk crate in the garbage pile, having destroyed the last one, Sparky II, the day before. (Cue the music: the Vangelis theme to Chariots of Fire) Jeannie: It sucks that we have to go back to school in a week. Andrea: Yeah. Jeannie: We should do something special before it’s over. Like, really big. We should totally do something from history. Andrea: Yeah. Narrator: Somewhere in the pile, a large red milk crate in good shape is found. Jackpot. It is examined for quite [44.200.66.187] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 09:26 GMT) 120 Lag B’Omer some time. The girls puzzle over the crate silently, with all of the gravitas of experts at a pre-launch inspection of the space shuttle. Consensus is reached, and the girls nod in approval. Jeannie: It needs something. Andrea: Yeah. But what? It’s already red and you used up all my stickers. (Long pause.) Jeannie (deadpan): Fire. Andrea: Fire? Damn it, Jeannie, you’re crazy. Fire is your answer to everything lately. Ever since that school burned down on Little House, that’s all you think about. We’re totally going to get in trouble. And, like, I know way more than I should about field-dressing an injury. Pretty soon someone’s going to get hurt and need more than just Popsicle sticks and Band-aids, and then my mother’s going to kill us all. Jeannie (Indignantly, but with majestic poise as the music swells): Yes. You are right. We might get hurt. We will get hurt. So we should make it good. Just imagine this crate being pulled down the driveway...