Tag Archives: Lag B’Omer

Understanding Chabad and 770

770 Eastern Parkway, global headquarters of Chabad

At the start of this week’s parasha, Vayetze, Jacob sees a vision of a Heavenly Ladder and receives a blessing from God. He is told: “you shall break out [u’faratzta] westward and eastward and northward and southward; and through you shall be blessed all the families of the Earth and through your seed.” (Genesis 28:14) The term u’faratzta, translated as “break out” or “gain strength” or “spread out”, is something of a slogan and rallying cry among Chabad Hasidim, who’ve made it their mission to bring Judaism to every corner of the globe, “westward, eastward, northward, southward”. It has further significance for Chabad because the verb faratzta (פרצת) has a numerical value of 770, as if alluding to Chabad headquarters at 770 Eastern Parkway in Brooklyn. It was the seventh and last Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-1994), who transformed Chabad from a small Hasidic group into an international phenomenon. What was his vision? Why did he want to put a “Chabad House” within reach of every Jew around the globe? And what does it really have to do with bringing Mashiach and the Final Redemption?

The sixth and seventh Lubavitcher Rebbes.

In 1940, the previous Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak Schneersohn (1880-1950) arrived in New York City, having fled Warsaw following the Nazi invasion. As the Rebbe was in a wheelchair, he needed an accessible home. A former medical office at 770 Eastern Parkway was the perfect choice, and was purchased for him to live in and to serve as the Chabad main office. His son-in-law (who would become the next Rebbe in 1951) arrived the following year, was put in charge of Chabad’s educational arm, Merkos L’Inyonei Chinuch, and got some office space on the first floor, too. He would take over the movement in those critical years following the Holocaust and the founding of the State of Israel. While his predecessors were officially “anti-Zionist”, the new Lubavitcher Rebbe took a different approach, engaging closely with the State and advising its leaders regularly. While he never visited Israel, he actually never left New York at all from the time he became Rebbe. The groundbreaking events that took place in the years before he took on Chabad leadership had an indelible impact on his vision and philosophy. He was convinced that the time for Redemption had arrived, and he made it clear in his very first discourse, Basi l’Gani.

The Rebbe explained that the seventh generation of Chabad had begun, as he was the seventh rebbe since the Alter Rebbe, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi (1745-1812), the founder of Chabad. This was comparable to Moses, the seventh generation from Abraham. It was that seventh generation of Moses, the “First Redeemer”, that merited the divine revelation at Mount Sinai. So, too, the Rebbe said, this seventh generation of Chabad would live to see the final divine revelation with Mashiach, the “Final Redeemer”. In his first discourse, the Rebbe made clear that “The spiritual task of the seventh generation is to draw down the Shekhinah truly below…” The Divine Presence must be made manifest in this material world. How is this to be done? The Rebbe said we must remember that “the quality of the seventh of a series is merely that he is seventh to the first” so we must look to the initial mission of the first generation, and finish the job now in the seventh. We must be like the first generation, “like Abraham: arriving in places where nothing was known of Godliness, nothing was known of Judaism, nothing was even known of the alef beit, and while there setting oneself completely aside [to call in God’s Name, as Abraham did].” Torah, mitzvot, and knowledge of God has to be spread as far and wide as possible, u’faratzta!

The Rebbe saw the events of the previous years as being a fulfilment of ancient prophecies about the End of Days, and thus the time was ripe for Redemption. He concluded his discourse like this: “Since we have already experienced all these things, everything now depends only on us—the seventh generation.” Henceforth, his entire mission was centered around bringing that Redemption. A decade later, however, no Redemption had arrived. The Rebbe understood that we must not be doing enough, and need to double down our efforts. In a discourse on Lag b’Omer 1962, the Rebbe explained that we all must be like Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai (“Rashbi”, whose mystical teachings we celebrate on Lag b’Omer):

[Rabbi Shimon] did not wait until he saw a problem, and then set out to correct it. Instead, he sought out problems to correct, asking others: “Is there anything that I could rectify?” And when he was told that there was a place which priests avoided because of a question of ritual impurity, he set out to correct the difficulty. Although the question involved impurity contracted from a human corpse—the most serious form of ritual impurity—Rabbi Shimon was able to make the place suitable even for priests. (Likkutei Sichos, Vol. VIII, pg. 131)

The Rebbe explained that Rashbi was not afraid to go to places of great impurity in order to affect spiritual rectifications. Moreover, the Rebbe continued:

Our Sages also quote Rabbi Shimon as saying: “I can acquit every Jew from the attribute of judgement.” Although there are people who have committed undesirable acts, Rabbi Shimon was able to find grounds for their defense… Rabbi Shimon was willing and able to descend to such a low level because he was among “the superior men who are few in number.”

In other words, Rashbi was one of the first “kiruv rabbis” who went out of his way to reach out to wayward and unobservant Jews. He would see every Jew in a positive light, and find a redeeming quality within them. He would find sinners and help them get back on the right path. He could descend even to the lowest places on Earth without fear of being sullied by the impure surroundings. This has become a fundamental of Chabad philosophy, with Chabad emissaries showing unparalleled ahavat Israel and being widely beloved for their non-judgemental attitude and open arms, along with a willingness to connect with all kinds of Jews on every street corner. Finally, the Rebbe concluded:

… the stories about Rabbi Shimon’s conduct serve as a directive for every Jew in later generations. This has been particularly true ever since the teachings of Pnimiyus haTorah [inner mystical dimensions of Torah], the wisdom of Rabbi Shimon, were revealed. Following Rabbi Shimon’s example, it is necessary for us to “spread the wellsprings outward” to join the two ends of the spiritual spectrum… and spread the “water” to the most extreme peripheries. This will prepare the world for the coming of Mashiach, who will likewise join two extremes… the Redemption will come when the outlook of Rabbi Shimon—who stood above the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash—is spread throughout the world. Rabbi Shimon’s teachings must be spread everywhere, even in places which need correction, even in places which are ritually impure…

The Rebbe here was alluding to a well-known story about the Baal Shem Tov, Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer (1698-1760, founder of Hasidism), who described in a letter how he ascended to Heaven and met Mashiach. When the Baal Shem Tov asked Mashiach when he would come, Mashiach replied that he would come when the Baal Shem Tov’s “wellsprings”, his mystical teachings, would spread worldwide. In this discourse, the Rebbe took things a step further in saying that the wellsprings must spread not only to established Jewish communities around the world or to other receptive audiences, but everywhere, “to the most extreme peripheries”, to the most impure of places.

While the Rebbe had sent emissaries (“shluchim”) to various communities from the very start of his tenure, now he was going to send them even to places of impurity, immorality, and secularism. In 1965, he sent Rabbi Shlomo Cunin to Los Angeles to work specifically with university students, plunging him into the heart of the liberal world at the height of the hippie movement. Four years later, Rabbi Cunin established the first official “Chabad House” at UCLA. In 1972, on his 70th birthday, the Rebbe famously requested a gift from his Hasidim: to open up another 71 Chabad Houses before his 71st birthday! That same year, Rabbi Cunin expanded to UC Berkeley and UC San Diego. The model was quickly replicated around the world, and the rest is history. Today, there are over 5000 Chabad Houses and Chabad institutions in over 100 countries.

While each Chabad institution is really stand-alone and is expected to raise its own funds and manage its own activities, the overall movement is still centrally-run and guided from 770 Eastern Parkway. The headquarters has become something of a shrine and temple of its own. Replicas of the building have been built in other parts of the world, including Jerusalem and Australia. Of course, many within Chabad believe the Rebbe to have been Mashiach (a question we addressed before here), and find proof within the fact that 770 is the value of “Mashiach’s House” (בית משיח), and more support in that the house is in Brooklyn’s Crown Heights neighbourhood. Some within Chabad believe that when Mashiach comes, 770 will be miraculously transported to Jerusalem. A minority fringe has even associated it with the Third Temple itself!

Replicas of 770 in Melbourne, Australia; and in Kfar Chabad and Jerusalem, Israel

Now, there is no doubt that the Lubavitcher Rebbe was a complete tzadik and did more for kiruv in absolute terms than anyone else in history. Nor is there any doubt that no one has done more to bring the Redemption than he did. It is pretty safe to say that while he was alive, he was probably the “presumptive messiah” of the generation, and it is clear from his own teachings that he hoped himself to be as well. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. The Rebbe delivered a difficult speech in April 1991 where he seemingly “gave up”, and left his Hasidim totally confounded. Elderly and frail, just months before suffering a debilitating stroke that left him unable to speak and partially paralyzed, the tearful Rebbe said:

How is it that the Redemption has not yet been attained? That despite all that has transpired and all that has been done, Mashiach has still not come? What more can I do? I have done all I can to bring the world to truly demand and clamour for the Redemption…The only thing that remains for me to do is to give over the matter to you. Do all that is in your power to achieve this thing—a most sublime and transcendent light that needs to be brought down into our world… I have done all I can. I give it over to you. Do all that you can to bring the righteous redeemer, immediately! I have done my part. From this point on, all is in your hands…

Sadly, the Rebbe passed away three years later. Nonetheless, within Chabad there are still those who believe the Rebbe is somehow Mashiach, despite the fact that he has been gone for nearly three decades. Some go even further and hold him to have some kind of divine status. No one is quite sure how prevalent these beliefs are within Chabad, and whether they are subsiding or actually growing stronger. Some say it is only a vocal tiny minority that continues to believe, while others argue there is definitely a silent majority. This puts Chabad in a precarious position:

On the one hand, Chabad is the most successful Jewish organization of all time, with massive resources and many adherents, with branches all over the world touching just about every Jewish community. (A 2005 survey found that over a million Jews attend a Chabad service at least once a year.) Chabad is an absolute success, and has the potential to become the dominant form of Judaism worldwide.

On the other hand, if the messianic fervour does not dissipate, or if it gets stronger, Chabad risks following in the footsteps of other Jewish messianic sects that ended up splitting into their own religions over time, forever waiting for the “second coming” of their messiah. Much depends on Chabad leadership, and what will happen as the older generation passes on and is replaced by younger idealists. It remains to be seen which of the two possibilities materialize in the coming decades: will Chabad save Judaism, or will it fracture it? As someone who had his bar mitzvah at a Chabad synagogue, was married by a Chabad rabbi (alongside a Bukharian one), prayed with a Chabad minyan for many years, and still occasionally participates in Chabad services, I very much hope that it will be the former.

When Rashbi Threatened Rabbi Akiva

This Monday evening is Lag b’Omer, the 33rd day in the Omer count and traditionally commemorated as the yahrzeit of the 2nd-century CE sage and mystic Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. Aside from being one of the most-cited voices in the Mishnah and Talmud, Rabbi Shimon (“Rashbi”) is even more famous for being the protagonist of the Zohar, the “textbook” of Jewish mysticism. Although he himself did not write it, the Zohar is based on his life and teachings, and is drawn from a collection of manuscripts initially produced by his disciples.

The timing of Lag b’Omer is even more significant because it is also the date when the “plague” upon the students of Rabbi Akiva ceased. After the deaths of some 24,000, only five of his students survived to rebuild Judaism—Rashbi being one of them. We must remember that Rabbi Akiva himself was jailed during this time, and eventually executed. It is during Rabbi Akiva’s time imprisoned that the Talmud (Pesachim 112a) relates an incredible story of when his student Rashbi came for a visit:

Rabbi Shimon approached his teacher behind bars and said lamdeni Torah, “teach me Torah!” Rabbi Akiva refused, since the Romans had banned Torah study—that was the reason Rabbi Akiva was imprisoned in the first place—and he did not want to get Rashbi in trouble, too. Incredibly, Rashbi responded by threatening Rabbi Akiva: “If you will not teach me, I will tell Yochai my father, and he will deliver you to the government!” This is puzzling, since Rabbi Akiva was already in jail at this point, so it seems like Rashbi was threatening to have Rabbi Akiva executed! We learn from this (among other places) that Rashbi’s father Yochai was a wealthy and influential figure in the Roman government, and could make such an order. This actually helps to explain why Rashbi later had to go into hiding from the Romans and spent over a dozen years in a cave, simply for criticizing the Roman regime. Certainly, many simple Jews (and gentiles) at the time would have criticized the Roman authorities without having to fear for their lives. Rashbi probably needed to go into hiding for what he said because his father was involved with the Roman government. He was well-connected and potentially a political threat to the authorities.

Rabbi Akiva told Rashbi: “My son, more than the calf wishes to suck, the cow wants to suckle!” In other words, Rabbi Akiva really did want to teach Torah, of course, even more than Rashbi wanted to learn, but he did not want to put his student in danger. Rashbi countered by arguing: “But who is the one in danger? The calf!” It is the baby that is in a fragile state, and needs the mother more than the mother needs the child. Rashbi was saying he needed Torah like a calf needs milk, otherwise he is (spiritually) in trouble anyway. Rabbi Akiva relented and relayed five final teachings, though they were terse and cryptic.

The first, appropriately, was “If you wish to hang yourself, do so on a big tree.” Since what Rashbi was asking of Rabbi Akiva potentially carried a death sentence, Rabbi Akiva gave him a teaching directly related to that. The simple meaning is that if Rashbi is going to be executed al kiddush Hashem, as a martyr sanctifying God’s Name, he should do so on a “big tree”, meaning to make it public so that the Kiddush Hashem is that much greater and inspires others to strengthen their resolve. Of course, Rabbi Akiva himself would soon be executed in such a way, with a huge Kiddush Hashem of his own.

[It should be noted that Rashi (not Rashbi) interpreted this first teaching metaphorically to mean that if you cite a Torah teaching, do so by citing it in the name of a great earlier sage, the “big tree”. The Ben Ish Chai, meanwhile, comments mystically that the “big tree”, ilan gadol, is the mystical Tree of Life, the ilan hakadosh, of the Sefirot. More specifically, ilan (אילן) has a value of 91, which is a clear allusion to the special Octagrammaton, explained here.]

The Octagrammaton, the eight-letter Name of God that fuses Hashem with Adonai

Rabbi Akiva’s second teaching was: “When you teach your son, teach him from a corrected scroll.” This teaching was also highly prescient, since Rashbi would soon have to go into hiding with his son, Rabbi Elazar. The two spent all of their time in the cave learning. From elsewhere in the Talmud (Ketubot 19b) we learn that a “corrected scroll”, sefer mugah, is any scroll or book of Tanakh that has been carefully proofread to make sure there are no errors. If an error is found, one has up to thirty days to correct it. Based on this, the Talmud explains the meaning of Rabbi Akiva’s second teaching is that a child should be taught properly from the beginning, because if they learn something erroneous in childhood, it will be hard to correct later.

The third teaching of Rabbi Akiva was: “Do not cook in your fellow’s pot.” The Talmud explains that this means a person should preferably not marry a divorcee whose husband is still alive, for she will likely still be thinking of her first love (whether positively or negatively). The Talmud cites a parallel teaching that when two divorced people marry each other, there are “four minds in their bed”. Each one brings the baggage of their previous relationship!

We’ll skip ahead to the fifth teaching as it is related to the third one: Rabbi Akiva teaches that a man should get married (and stay married!) and this is a mitzvah v’guf tahor, both a great mitzvah in itself, and also makes a man’s body pure, since he will not be drawn to sexual sins (having a wife to take care of those urges), and will have children to keep him busy and make him more responsible. It’s no coincidence that Rabbi Akiva saves this for his final teaching, since he himself was lucky to marry the right woman, who encouraged and supported him, and whom he later credited for all of his Torah learning and success.

These two short teachings on marriage actually carry a great deal of hidden mystical meaning (as, for instance, the Ben Ish Chai comments and explains in his Ben Yehoyada). Rashbi would go on to teach the fundamentals of Jewish mysticism in the Zohar, where marital intimacy is the central theme and metaphor that runs throughout the text. In fact, much of Kabbalah in general is based on the dynamics of a marriage as a metaphor for greater cosmic spiritual realities.

Finally, the fourth teaching of Rabbi Akiva is regarding a case where a person rents out a field to their fellow, who will work the land. Instead of taking monetary payment, the renter takes a portion of the produce of the field. This is both a mitzvah to help your fellow, who gets land to work and does not have to pay rent (just a portion of his yields), and is good for the renter’s own wellbeing, since he will eat fresh fruits and be healthy. Thus, it is a mitzvah v’guf gadol—both a big mitzvah and gives one a great, healthy body. Like the other teachings, this one was relevant to Rashbi since, as we’ve seen, Rashbi came from a powerful and wealthy family. He had the means to rent out fields to less privileged people.

As an important aside, there is a famous Talmudic debate between Rashbi and Rabbi Ishmael regarding whether a man should spend all of his time learning Torah, or get a job and make his own living, while also making time to learn Torah (Berakhot 35b). Rabbi Ishmael argued that, although the Tanakh tells us to meditate upon the Torah day and night, and that “it should not depart from your mouth” (Joshua 1:8), we also recite every day in the Shema that “you shall gather in your grain…” (Deuteronomy 11:14), meaning a person needs to work, too! Rashbi countered that if a person works, they will not have enough time to study Torah, as they will always be busy with something; plowing, sowing, harvesting, threshing, and so on. Rashbi argued that if a person fulfils God’s will, then God will bless them with riches, allowing them to outsource the work to others. He therefore concluded that ideally a person should learn all day, and leave the physical work for others. Of course, it was easy for Rashbi to say this since he came from a super-wealthy family, and was able to hire people to do that work!

Ultimately, the debate in the Talmud is settled by Abaye who said: “Many have acted in accordance with Rabbi Ishmael and were successful [in their Torah study. And many] have acted in accordance with Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai and were not successful!” Oftentimes, it is those who balance Torah with labour that become the greatest scholars, while those who are full-time learners fail to achieve Torah greatness. Note as well that Abaye specifically referred to Rashbi as, not just “Rabbi Shimon” (as he did Rabbi Ishmael, without a patronym), but “Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai”, emphasizing that he was the son of the wealthy Yochai, and most people are not so privileged like him.

Today, Rashbi’s position is still taken as support for certain kollels and for those who “make Torah-learning their profession”. However, it is important to clarify here that Rashbi never supported learning Torah at someone else’s expense. Rashbi was very wealthy himself, and could afford to hire others to do his work, while he learned all day. He certainly would not have supported the idea of making a living through learning Torah, for the Talmud clearly states in many places (including several times in Pirkei Avot 1:13, 2:2, 4:5) that this is unacceptable. The Torah should not be used as a “shovel to dig with”, to derive personal or material benefit. And when Rashbi had to go into hiding and did not have his father’s wealth and estate to support him, he lived meagrely on nothing but carobs and water. In either case, he never relied on the funds of others to make a living.

Going back to Rabbi Akiva, it appears that this encounter with Rashbi was his last, and he was soon executed. His final five teachings were concise, but deeply meaningful, especially for Rashbi himself. Rashbi would go on to be one of the five who rebuilt Judaism. His own final discourse, the Idra Zuta, contained deeply profound teachings as well. For an exploration of the last passage in the Idra Zuta, see the following short class:

Happy Lag b’Omer!

Mourning and Music in the Omer

As we count each day during Sefirat haOmer in the weeks between Pesach and Shavuot, we are conscious of the 24,000 slain students of Rabbi Akiva and observe a period of mourning. It is fitting to think of those victims as we ourselves focus on personal development and self-improvement during this time, in preparation for the Sinai Revelation on Shavuot—which didn’t just take place once some three millennia ago, but happens anew each year. Having said that, it is interesting that we seemingly have so many days of mourning to commemorate the tragedy, yet we don’t have such prolonged mourning for other terrible catastrophes in Jewish history (some of which are arguably much worse). Where did this extended mourning period come from?

If we look in our legal texts, we surprisingly find very little. The Talmud says nothing about mourning in these days. It is brought down that some of the Geonim (c. 600-1000 CE) may have mentioned mourning during this period, and that there was a custom not to hold weddings between Pesach and Shavuot (see, for instance, the collection of Geonic responsa published in 1802 under the title Sha’arei Teshuvah, #278). It is strange then that the Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, 1138-1204), who carefully codified the Talmud and the entire corpus of Jewish law up to that point (including the works of the Geonim!) makes no mention of mourning during the Omer in his monumental Mishneh Torah. The Rambam was Sephardic so one might argue that he may have omitted a custom that developed in Ashkenaz first. Yet, the Machzor Vitry, composed by Rashi’s disciple Rabbi Simchah of Vitry (in northern France) in the 11th century, fails to mention anything about mourning during the Omer either! Neither is it mentioned by great Rishonim like the Rif (Rabbi Isaac Alfasi, 1013-1103) or the Rosh (Rabbeinu Asher, c. 1250-1327).

Timeline of Rabbinic history and halakhic eras

Its first notable mention appears to be the Arba’ah Turim of Rabbi Yakov ben Asher (the “Ba’al haTurim”, 1270-1340), son of the Rosh, who was Ashkenazi but lived in Spain. In Orach Chaim 493, he says it is customary not to have weddings during the Omer, though engagements are permitted. He then states that in some places it is also customary not to take haircuts. No mention is made of abstaining from music, avoiding reciting shehecheyanu, or any other mourning rituals. Interestingly, other sources from this time period (like Sefer Asufot) argue that the mourning period arose not because of Rabbi Akiva’s students, but because of the devastation of the Crusades on Ashkenazi communities! Later sources would combine both reasons, and explain that the mourning is both for Rabbi Akiva’s students and for the Crusades.

Massacres of Jewish communities around the time of the First Crusade (1096-1102)

It should be noted that there is an alternate, more mystical reason for mourning (or at least, for avoiding festivities) during the Omer: the Mishnah brings an opinion that the wicked in Gehinnom are judged specifically between Pesach and Shavuot (Eduyot 2:10). In truth, this is only a singular opinion of one Sage, contrasting an earlier statement that judgement in Gehinnom lasts a full 12 months. It is possible to reconcile the two opinions by saying that following a person’s passing, their soul is judged for up to 12 months, and then if the verdict is for the person to remain in Gehinnom, they are subsequently rejudged each year between Pesach and Shavuot. Since we know that the deaths of Rabbi Akiva’s students actually ended on Lag b’Omer and did not extend all the way to Shavuot (hence the mourning stops on Lag b’Omer), we might apply that same rule to the judgement in Gehinnom as well. In this case, we have yet another mystical reason for lighting bonfires on Lag b’Omer, as these would be appropriately symbolic of the “flames” of Gehinnom.

The above somewhat contradicts the notion that judgements take place specifically on Rosh Hashanah. We assume that all souls, both Jewish and non-Jewish, living and deceased, are judged on this day. Interestingly, the Arba’ah Turim (in Orach Chaim 581) explains that Jews customarily shave before Rosh Hashanah because, unlike gentiles, we don’t grow out our beards in fear of judgement! We are certain that God will judge us favourably. This notion presents something of a problem for the idea of not shaving because of the judgement in Gehinnom.

Haircuts and Music

Continuing our journey through halakhic history, the next major law code was the Shulchan Arukh (which was really only a summary of the larger Beit Yosef). Rabbi Yosef Karo (1488-1575) produced it by integrating the Mishneh Torah with the Arba’ah Turim, and the Rif, plus updating it with newer established customs, as well as the occasional Kabbalistic practices. It was meant to be a universal code of law, and something like the authoritative “last word”, satisfying the majority of opinions. In our times, Rav Ovadia Yosef famously argued that the Shulchan Arukh should be the supreme code of Jewish law, especially in the land of Israel where it always held primacy since its publication.

Regarding mourning during the Omer, the Shulchan Arukh again mentions only weddings and haircuts. It explains that, of course, the mourning ends on Lag b’Omer, and doesn’t extend all the way to Shavuot. The Rama (Rabbi Moshe Isserles, c. 1530-1572) adds in his gloss for Ashkenazim that some have the custom to allow haircuts until Rosh Chodesh Iyar, and only start the mourning period after this. That actually makes a great deal of sense, since we consider the entire month of Nisan to be a festive month, and we don’t recite tachanun at all throughout the month. This is stated clearly in Masekhet Sofrim 21:2-3, which also says that fasting in Nisan should be avoided (except for the firstborn before Pesach). For this reason, many religious authorities opposed the Zionists establishing Yom HaShoah—Israel’s Holocaust Memorial Day—in Nisan, because there shouldn’t be a mourning day within the festive month. It is therefore quite ironic that, at the same time, many religious authorities typically encourage mourning practices in the same Nisan days for the Omer!

It must be repeated that our ancient Sages did not actually institute such mourning, and it is a later custom. Rabbi David Bar-Hayim argues that the Sages did not institute mourning during the Omer because they understood we already have enough mourning days on the Jewish calendar, particularly on Tisha b’Av and the three weeks leading up to it. If we add several more weeks of mourning during the Omer, plus all the other fast days and sad days on the Jewish calendar, it can become quite depressing and psychologically unhealthy. Rabbi Bar-Hayim adds that while we may have a minhag to mourn during the Omer, it is certified halakhah to honour Shabbat and appear presentable and regal on the holy day, therefore it is entirely permitted to trim or get a haircut before Shabbat, even during the Omer.

For many today, the biggest question during the Omer is regarding listening to music. None of the ancient sources speak of abstaining from music, all the way up to the Shulchan Arukh, and beyond. So where did it come from? In his commentary on the Shulchan Arukh, the Magen Avraham (Rabbi Avraham Gombiner, c. 1635-1682) adds that dancing at parties during the Omer is forbidden. Based on this, Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein (1829–1908) argued in his Arukh haShulchan (first published in 1884) that if dancing is prohibited, then we must extend the prohibition to music as well, since it inevitably leads to dancing. This appears to be the first clear argument anywhere for avoiding music during the Omer. The position has been rejected by others, as there is no direct guaranteed leap from music to dancing. After all, many people listen to music just to relax, or while driving or cleaning, or to motivate themselves to work or exercise, and so on. For these reasons, some only prohibit live music, not recorded music.

Rav Soloveitchik argued that the Omer mourning should have a precedent from other mourning practices, like the shiva, shloshim, or the year-long mourning following the death of a parent. Since the Omer mourning is likened to the latter, the prohibition is only on going to parties or concerts, but not listening to music in private. His contemporaries, Rav Moshe Feinstein and Rav Ovadia Yosef, disagreed on this and prohibited all music during the Omer. (In the case of Rav Ovadia, this is somewhat inconsistent, since he always argued for the primacy of Shulchan Arukh, which makes no mention of abstaining from music! Nonetheless, it seems he was upholding a modern-day stringency, even if it isn’t mentioned in his go-to law code.)

To summarize, there is no doubt that forbidding weddings between Pesach and Lag b’Omer is based on a valid ancient custom that likely goes back as far as the Geonim. (Though some, even today, do permit and hold weddings up through Rosh Chodesh Iyar.) Abstaining from haircuts is a bit more recent, but still has a source going back some 700 years. It should be remembered that many authorities starting from the Rishonim and up to the present allow haircuts and trimming (or even shaving) to stay presentable, especially in honour of Shabbat, or if necessary for work purposes. This is particularly true if a person is accustomed to trimming or shaving daily.

Finally, regarding music, there is no ancient source for the prohibition. While it is true that one should ideally avoid parties and concerts during the Omer, not listening to music in private is a very recent stringency, perhaps just over a century old. For those who simply cannot go so long without music, there is definitely on whom to rely to permit it. Either way, there is no need to worry about passively hearing background music in the elevator or supermarket, nor any concern for those who make a living working in the music industry. Nor should a person who has a birthday during the Omer feel condemned to never be able to have a festive birthday party in their life! (See also ‘Should Jews Celebrate Birthdays?’) Lastly, we shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that, despite the seriousness, the Sefirat haOmer period is simultaneously a time of great joy, since we have the opportunity to do a most-precious Torah mitzvah of counting the Omer, while eagerly anticipating a new year of Torah learning ahead starting on Shavuot.

Happy counting! 

Make your upcoming Shavuot all-night learning meaningful with
Tikkun Leil Shavuot – The Arizal’s Torah Study Guide
(15% off this week with code EARTHWEEK15)