Lag B’Omer marks the conclusion of the time period of the tragic deaths of the 24,000 holy talmidim of Rebbi Akiva. This horrific tragedy even trumps the mourning period of 21 days leading up to the day of the destruction of the two Temples, the time period known as the Three Weeks. And, even though Josephus testifies that over a million Jews died in just a few days during the destruction of the second Temple, the death of Rebbi Akiva’s 24,000 talmidim demands even longer attention.
This is because the targeted deaths of the crème de la crème of Jewish society, and the horrific way that they died, screams for explanation. This is because every one of them died from the worst of the 918 ways to die, namely the death of asakara, a type of diphtheria, a slow and acutely painful death.
Furthermore, remarkably, the fact is that their holy Torah (remember that their rebbi was the rarified Rebbi Akiva) did not protect them. This is even though the Torah is specifically known for its protective qualities, as we are taught that the Torah is meigin u’matzlei, and acts k’sris bifnei haparonios, meaning that the Torah protects and saves, and acts like a shield of retribution. Yet, not even one of the 24,000 talmidim merited that their Torah study should save them from such a horrible death. This again begs for an explanation and points to a fundamental lesson that warranted a national annual mourning period of such a lengthy duration.
In our days, long after the close of the era of the Gemara and the cessation of Ruach HaKodesh, Divine spirit, we don’t have people of the caliber to tell us why tragedies happen. In our times there is no one capable to pinpoint why the Holocaust occurred. However, when the disciples of Rebbi Akiva were divinely executed, we still had the Sages of the Talmud and, in the sixth perek of Masechtas Yevamos, they teach us exactly why such a tragedy happened.
The Sages summed up the situation succinctly: “Mipnei shelo nahagu kavod zeh l’zeh,” “the disciples did not honor one another.” Note, the Gemara doesn’t say that they demeaned one another or that they disgraced one another. Simply, they didn’t honor one another. One can understand how this attitude came about. After all, they all learned the Torah from the same rebbe. They were all relatively on the same level so they were casual with one another, perhaps taking each other’s Torah for granted. Their fate teaches us that this is the wrong attitude and that this mentality is a lethal mistake.
Let me give you some contemporary examples of this attitude. In Lakewood, New Jersey or Brooklyn, New York, there are thousands of people learning. In America, things are valued by how much pay they command and this abundance of scholarship “cheapens” learning. If a person needs a cleaning lady, they would never think of getting one for free, and if you needed someone to hang up a picture, you’d know for certain that you’d have to pay the worker to do it. But, in a place of such “surplus,” if you want someone to say a d’var Torah, you expect it for free, because if you don’t get a certain choice, you’ll just get someone else.
Rabbis serving in countless developments in Lakewood or sections of Brooklyn are poorly paid. First of all, many feel we don’t need one at all. Secondly, the sentiment is, “If you don’t do it, we’ll get somebody else.” In a magazine or a newspaper, an article written by a therapist or a master chef commands payment. But a Torah article is just one of a dozen, and is expected to be done for free. These are all symptoms of a malaise of kavod haTorah that exists where there is a proliferation of Torah.
We must know that the mitzvah of kavod haTorah is even greater than learning Torah. As the Gemara in Masechtas Megilla in the first perek states categorically that while learning Torah does not supersede the hearing of the megillah, giving honor to the Torah does. Similarly, when a person is called up to the Torah, it is called, “getting an aliyah,” to go up. Why is it called an aliyah? Some will tell you that it’s because, in the olden-day shuls, the bimah, where we read the Torah was an elevated platform. Therefore, when one was called up to the Torah, they got to go up. However, there is a more profound reason why it is called an aliyah. When one is honored to make a blessing on the Torah in public before the entire congregation, he is doing an act of kavod haTorah. As such, whatever pursuit he was coming from, when he is called up for that blessing, it’s an aliyah, a step up. For we know that talmud Torah k’neged kulom, that the learning of Torah is equal to everything, and we know that kavod haTorah is even greater. So, no matter what one was doing before the aliyah, the aliyah is always a step up.
In years past, we sadly treated the rebbeim of our children shabbily, paying them poor salaries and paying them very late. In more recent times, our society saw that this had to change because our talented youth realized that they too had to pay for weddings and tuitions, medical policies and mortgages, and so they stopped wanting to become rebbeim. And, since we needed rebbeim, the pendulum had to shift. But, when it comes to rabbanim, many people, especially when they get older, feel that they don’t need a rabbi. They’ve had enough of speeches. There are plenty of shiurim online by world-class talented people. This is a great challenge, and has “cheapened” the Torah immensely.
It is with this background that we need to take the lesson of “mipnei shelo nahagu kavod zeh l’zeh,” that they didn’t give honor to one another, and we must ask ourselves if we are guilty of such an attitude as well. Taking the time to bring your child to the Rabbi to say good Shabbos and good Yom Tov is a great way to inculcate them at a young age in kavod haTorah. Supporting your rabbi’s shiur, although you might have one that’s a little more convenient, is also a manifestation of kavod haTorah. Seeing that your Rabbi can also pay his bills, taking responsibility for his future by creating a pension for him and his family, taking care of proper severance if he has to leave, these are all manifestations of kavod haTorah. Sadly, there is a lot of neglect in these areas.
May we learn from the tragic and tough lesson of the talmidei Rebbi Akiva, to give proper regard to Torah, even when it is all around us, and in that merit may Hashem bless us with long life, good health, and everything wonderful.
Transcribed and edited by Shelley Zeitlin.
