Returning from a weekend in Poland can be a grueling
transition, not only because of the extremely haunting sights that one
witnesses while there, but also because when a spiritually and physically exhausting itinerary
is squeezed into a three day period, bus sleep never produces the
therapeutic effects that one hopes for.
This unrelenting tiredness is only exacerbated when one actively seeks
out excursions that will only inhibit normal sleep patterns the following
week. Nevertheless, it is sleep itself
that may inhibit fun and excitement when special opportunities are slotted for specific
days, and so in this instance, the sleep-for-adventure tradeoff proved to be
worthwhile.
Wednesday night marked Lag Ba’Omer on the Jewish calendar. Lag Ba’Omer is the thirty-third day of the Omer (the days between the first night of Pesach and Shavuot) and commemorates the passing of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai (Rashbi), a great rabbi and Talmudic scholar to whom authorship of the Zohar (the primary Kabbalistic text) is attributed. Each year on Lag Ba’Omer, hundreds of thousands of Jews make the pilgrimage to a small town that sits upon a hill called Meron. Atop Meron is where Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai’s tomb is located. I was fortunate enough to have gone to the event last year on my Israel trip, and when the avenue presented itself for me to get back there once more, I quickly penciled myself in.
Just like our Purim travels to Tel Aviv, a large group of Hebrew U students (myself included) drove up to Meron on a party bus, though our attire was not quite as eccentric as it was on Purim. Meron is located not far from Tzfat, which is about a three and a half hour ride from Jerusalem. The night of Lag Ba’Omer is famous for large bonfires throughout the country, and on the way, we stopped by a particularly magnificent one for a quick bite to eat and a chance to check out the roaring flames. While there, I purchased a highly sophisticated, state-of-the-art, multicolored, strobe, seizure inducing Shrek necklace. It proved to be a keen acquisition until a friend of mine repossessed my ogre medallion, and unfortunately held on to it for the night as its disappearance from my neck eluded my memory. Because my Shreklace was stripped from me, I became Shrekless.
I found it very nice to party with a purpose. As a frat boy, I have minored in vain debauchery. I have grown accustomed to engaging in a substantial amount of mindless celebration devoid of meaning, so partying with substance (aside from those abused by your average college student) served as a nice changeup. It was as refreshing as ice cold Cool Blue Gatorade is in the early morning following said parties.
By the time we approached the bottom of the mountain, it was closing in on midnight, but the thousands of people just within our general vicinity provided a sufficient boost of energy. Together, we ascended the hill alongside innumerable Haredim (ultra-Orthodox Jews). Naturally, one of the main attractions of the event is the tomb of the Rashbi where thousands upon thousands of people congregate at any one time to daven Ma’ariv and throw prayers and wishes into a fire there. Once inside the tomb, you literally cannot move without bumping into the person next to you. I’ve been in mosh pits before, but this elbow-to-elbow collage of Yids put them all to shame. Outside of the tomb, Jewish bands led thousands of concert goers in an upbeat and soulful song session. The lyrics to the most popular song read “Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, Shimon bar Yochai!”, and they are very catchy.
It never ceases to amaze me that no matter where you go in this wonderful country, it is rather difficult to not bump into someone you know. This night was no exception. First, I bumped into a fellow Badger who is spending the year here in yeshiva. Next, I happened to find my friend Stephanie who often attends the same Shabbat dinner as I do at the home of Yossi and Chaya Witkes. At her side was Debi, a girl who I grew up in Hebrew school with but who I hadn’t seen in eight years or so. What a world!
We departed from the Lag Ba’Omer extravaganza at around 3 AM. By this time we were all exhausted, a bit dehydrated, and desperately wanted to return back to Jerusalem where we would still face a daunting day of classes. Some people arrived tardy to our designated meeting place, and others grew resentful towards those who lagged be’hind. The bus ride back was about as miserable as possible, but it was a small price to pay for the great festival we had attended.
Before Friday, there were two major Israeli cities that I had yet to visit: Haifa and Beer Sheba. Now there is only one, as Hebrew U led two tour buses up to Haifa on Friday morning. We left our student village at 7:30 AM, stopped for gas and concessions on the way, and arrived in Haifa at about 10:00. Haifa, also a city upon a hill, is the third largest city in Israel behind Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. The city stands as a model for coexistence between Jews and Muslims. It also houses one of Israel’s great attractions, the Baha’i Gardens, which served as the highlight of our trip up there.
The greenery and aesthetics that these gardens offer are quite stunning. While descending the hill that this Baha’i shrine sits on, a water fall follows you. Especially during this time of year, the greens are sharp and they clash well with the pinks and purples that surround them. After exiting the gardens, we were enlightened to the precepts of the Baha’i faith and from there listened to a lecture from a man belonging to the Achmadim sect of Islam. We then went to a Druze village, where our time was mainly occupied by eating falafel.
The past couple of days have been very low key, which has provided a nice chance to get caught up on sleep and homework (and there is a lot of that coming up). I am very lucky that my time abroad here has offered so many opportunities for exploration and excitement, and I am equally lucky that there is a decent amount of down time as well. I'm looking forward to all that next week (and the next two months) has in store.
Until next time,
Zac
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