OzTorah

Lag Ba’Omer is generally explained as marking the end of the pestilence which befell the students of Rabbi Akiva in the 2nd century and affected the military revolt against the Romans.

Other explanations include the fact that this date is more or less the midpoint between Pesach and Shavu’ot.

In Biblical times both festivals required a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and entailed considerable effort on the part of the pilgrims in an age when travel was much more onerous than today.

After Pesach, people who had been to Jerusalem for the holyday were so heavily involved in their normal agricultural work that they might have neglected to get ready and embark on the next pilgrimage. From Lag Ba’Omer onwards, however, their priority had to be the celebration of Shavu’ot.

There were two ways of marking the date – reluctant acceptance of the duty to return to Jerusalem, and excited anticipation of the forthcoming yom-tov.

Tradition chose the second approach, and though the new journey, so close to the first, was a strain, the pilgrims thanked God for the opportunity of being present in the sanctuary once again.

There was a time when Europe was civilised and America high-minded.

Then both went morally down-market to the extent that people with good memories asked, “Whatever happened to the Europe and America I remember?”

I have an answer but I fear to articulate it. Instead I make the bold if biased claim that Israel is now the moral leader of mankind.

I know the United Nations and many other places have no time for Israel and whatever it does is by definition wrong, but I still think I am right.

What warrants my claim that Israel is, as the prophets knew it would be, “a light unto the nations”?

The fact that Israel is the headquarters of heroism. I’m not thinking of the start-up talents which make science and technology the characteristic exports of Israeli brain-power, but the fact that – in Rav Soloveitchik’s terms – Israel is the place where a whole nation shows g’vurah, moral courage and ethical strength, as opposed to the brawn-power of mere ko’ach.

Israel has its ko’ach heroes: thank God they keep us strong and safe. But its g’vurah heroism is discussed by Rav Steinsaltz in one of his essays.

In his view heroism is the art of keeping going come what may. The hero’s trees are uprooted yet he replants them. He looks to tomorrow even when today is under threat. He does not retreat into a shell when things turn dark but he keeps doing the things he must.

Israel is the heroism of hope.

In his book, “Israel: An Echo of Eternity”, Abraham Joshua Heschel asked why Jewish hearts and minds always turned to Israel.

He said there were three reasons, memory, hope and distress.

He said that to believe is to remember. Not in the sense of a dim, distant record, but as a stimulus to hope. The memory was symbolised by rituals and customs that ensured that Israel remained part of everyday Jewish consciousness.

The memory kindled within us the hope that Israel the land and Israel the people would both be redeemed.

There was a strand of distress that came into every generation. The fulfilment of the hope was challenged in every age. But the Jew never gave up hoping, dreaming and praying.

In our day both God and the Jewish people have shown they never abandoned the pledge to build and rebuild.

Many other powers had control over the land for a period, but the land did not respond to them. The land was waiting for its own people, and there came a day when God reunited them, land and people.

Today’s sidra, K’doshim, means “Holy Ones”. It opens with God’s command to emulate His holiness and be holy people (Lev. 19:1-2).

Holiness is usually defined in spiritual, even mystical terms, denoting a somewhat rarefied life above the ordinary, but this sidra has a more practical approach, interpreting holiness ethically and requiring a life of uprightness and decency.

It must be in this sense that a synagogue is called K’hillah K’doshah, “a holy congregation”.

Its members are not necessarily imbued with otherworldly sanctity, but they show they are a holy congregation by helping each other, supporting the community, and improving their society.

But good deeds alone do not earn the title “holy”. This comes from doing what has to be done from the right motives, as indicated in the traditional prayer for those “who occupy themselves with the needs of the community b’emunah, ‘in faith'”.

If the motive is right, the life of the congregation is holy.

The point is made by Maimonides in his explanation of the law that says that using Temple property for a secular purpose requires the bringing of a trespass offering.

The object that a person uses may be a mere inanimate brick or stone, but because God’s name is attached to it, it is holy. Any ordinary act becomes holy if it is dedicated to the name of God.

“Love your neighbour as yourself”, says the Torah (Lev. 19:18).

What sort of neighbour?

Rabbi Yisra’el Salanter had a straightforward answer: “Every sort of neighbour!”

He derives this message from the Biblical text. The opening verse, “Be holy”, tells us to revere those who are able to attain the highest standards.

The second verse, “Respect your father and mother and keep my Sabbaths”, symbolises the intermediate category of people who have not (yet!) reached the really high levels.

The third verse, “Do not turn to idols”, represents the residual category of those who have neither reached high spirituality nor engaged in a basic degree of ethical and religious life, but nonetheless never crosses the line to real idolatry.

Some people are too fussy about whom they love. Others who do not share their commitments or opinions are immediately suspect and not really deserving of tolerance and respect. The Torah, as Rabbi Yisra’el sees it, writes off nobody.