There are many lessons that we can learn from the Omer period. We always learn about ve’ahavta lereiacha kamocha which we are taught is klal gadol, a major principle of Jewish religious philosophy. I once heard a more cynical understanding, that at times it remains a klal gadol, a major principle only as religious theory commanded in Torah, but alas it is not always practiced in the real world. We tend to connect with this idea more at this time of the year.
We also have similar practices when it comes to how we behave during the Omer, but we don’t all experience the weeks the same way. For some, the Omer is a joyous chol ha’mo’ed type experience building to kabolas Ha’Torah. For others, it is about working to fix the error and catastrophe of the talmidim of Rabbi Akiva. This group will experience the omer in a more intense introspective manner. There is one more focus that I think is somewhat forgotten. A lesser known feature of these days is one we mention each Tisha b’Av in our kinnos when we describe the tragedies of the crusades and the massacre of Jews by the Christians on their way to Holy Land.
Around a thousand years after Rabbi Akiva’s students died, during the Crusades that began in 4856 (1096), the Christians slaughtered tens of thousands of Jews in Germany. These tragedies also occurred mainly during the days of the Omer. Approximately five-hundred years later, from 5408-5409 (1648-49), terrible massacres befell the Jews once again, this time in Eastern Europe. Tens, and perhaps even hundreds, of thousands of Jews were murdered. These pogroms also occurred, for the most part, during the Omer period. We know what we learn from the other areas of focus, but what can we learn from these tragic episodes?
When we think of kiddush Hashem we often contemplate a scenario when we do something good publicly and we get approving nods from onlookers. We get more excited and self-congratulatory if there is a broad audience who might then praise Jews for their good behaviour. There is more to this mitzva than this narrow example.
If we were challenged with explaining what being Jewish means to us, how it animates and inspires us, gives us the very air we breathe; what would we say? If we werbeing asked to convert or die, readers of this publication would no doubt imagine themselves to be sufficiently pious to readily accept martyrdom if it came to it. But how do we know? Would we fight for our Judaism? Do we ever display such high levels of commitment over Mitzvos to the point of mesiras nefesh? What mitzva are we moser nefesh over? Do we invest ourselves fully in the performance of a mitzva? Do we shvitz more buying and returning clothes for a simcha than we do for davening, learning, or doing chessed?
The terrifying stories of martyrdom describe Jewish parents killing their children in a manner similar to Avrohom’s near sacrifice of Yitzchok. This wasn’t about winning prizes or getting children into schools, or being considered the best bochur for a shiddduch. Absolute commitment to HKBH was part of their DNA, avdei Hashem in the purest sense!
Altogether, around 5,000 Jews were massacred in France and the Rhineland in the spring and summer of 1096. The Gemoro speaks about 400 boys and girls who were led into captivity to be taken to Rome for immoral purposes. They jumped into the sea and drowned themselves to be saved from this fate. The Gemora says they entered the world to come. The martyrs of 1096 were aware of another story that describes the Kohanim jumping into the fires to be burned along with the Beis Hamikdash, and also the story of Channah and her seven sons who were put to death because they refused to commit idolatry.
Truthfully, the ability to willingly accept the ratzon Hashem is encoded into our spiritual DNA all the way back to the Ovos. Halacha cannot codify martyrdom because by definition this would then not be an act of martyrdom. Yet generations of our people freely chose this route demonstrating their commitment to Yiddishkeit.
In some instances, Jewish martyrs insulted their Christian attackers before being killed as a way of displaying their ultimate faith in Hashem. The Omer period would thus be an opportune time to contemplate two other areas of Yiddishkeit. The effort, devotion, passion, commitment we have towards the performance of mitzvos, as well as our general faith in Hashem as the source of our lives. Are we constantly looking around for society to approve of what we do? Are we obsessed with what others might think of us? Alternatively, are we focussed on becoming avdei Hashem, true servants of Hashem and seeking His approval and love?
Finally, I think we must use the final days of the Omer to remind ourselves of the importance of every kehilla. We should pause and think about the extent to which we pay attention to what happens beyond our daled amos. Do we celebrate each other’s simchas or merely look on disapprovingly because we wouldn’t celebrate that way? Do we extend hands of friendship when someone falls or cries for help? Or, are we too busy with our own needs?
Recalling the tragic destruction of European Jewish communities at this time of the year ought to wake us up to the reality of being part of Am Yisrael. We are not just Jews, people that share a religion. We are a nation, waiting to go back home, with a Beis Hamikdosh in the centre of our holy capital city. With the revelation of Hashem and knowledge of Hashem filling the world.
At Har Sinai we accepted being Hashem’s special people, all together b’lev echad. Our communal heart is at times in pieces, but it still beats strong. We need to heal our collective heart, by recognising how much we need every Jew and every community to be strong and proud. Like the Choshen worn by the Kohen Gadol we must realise that each Jew is a different stone, with a different orientation, look and texture. Twelve different coloured stones, not one big black stone! When we can see difference as a strength and not a threat, we will begin to piece our heart back together.
Like Rabbi Akiva so too the Rhineland Jewish communities successfully rebuilt themselves after tragedy struck. Both cases highlighting the indomitable spirit of the Jewish people. Our darkest moments do not give rise to defeat and permanent despair. Life is sacred and valuable regardless of circumstances and thus the divine call of u’vacharta ba’chaim, choose life always rings out.
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