Rabbi’s Message: May 13, 2025: The Purposeful, Joyful Pause of Lag B’Omer

By Rabbi Lauren Ben-Shoshan

Imagine trudging through a spiritual desert—sand in your shoes, questions in your heart, and a long journey ahead. Barely thirty days ago, we left Egypt behind, but Sinai still lies in the distance. We’re free, yes—but not yet fully formed. And right in the middle of this soul-stretching trek comes Lag B’Omer, bursting onto the scene like a surprise party thrown by the calendar itself.

Lag B’Omer—the 33rd day of the Omer count between Pesach and Shavuot—is a little-known but deeply resonant gem in the Jewish calendar. Nestled in a traditionally somber period, this day invites us to pause, light bonfires, dance, shoot bows and arrows (ideally not at each other), and make space for unabashed joy. But what’s the story behind this curious interlude, and why does it matter?

Let’s do my very favorite thing and dig into the history of it all.

Traditionally, the Omer period is a time of semi-mourning. According to the Talmud (Yevamot 62b), 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva died in a tragic plague during these weeks. Why? The sages say they “did not show proper respect to one another”—a haunting reminder that knowledge without kindness leads to communal collapse. Lag B’Omer marks the day the plague ended.

And then, the story deepens. According to the kabbalists, Lag B’Omer is also associated with Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, a mystic and spiritual rebel credited with authoring the Zohar, the foundational text of Kabbalah. He asked that the day of his death be remembered as a celebration—“the day of my joy.” (Zohar, Idra Zuta: Zohar III, 287b–296b) His legacy is honored through bonfires that symbolize the fiery passion of divine wisdom and human resilience in the mystical strain of our traditions.

But: why joy, and why now?

It’s easy to think of joy as something spontaneous—a byproduct of good news, good weather, or a really great meal. You might have heard me refer to this as “wild joy”; it is the kind of joy that we find out in the wilderness of our lives. It is unplanned and unexpected, but it is there nonetheless. However, in addition to wild joy, we have the opportunity to cultivate joy. We have the power to choose seeds of joy for ourselves and our community, to plant them carefully, and to nurture them. According to Dr. Barbara Fredrickson, a leading positive psychology scholar, “positive emotions broaden our awareness and build lasting psychological resources.” In other words, joy isn’t just a response to wellbeing or awe—its cultivation helps create it.

This is what makes Lag B’Omer so radical. It's not joy for joy’s sake. It’s strategic, cultivated joy. Amid a heavy season of introspection and collective grief, we’re instructed—yes, instructed!—to set aside our sadness and celebrate. To picnic. To play music. To be ridiculously, joyfully alive.

This practice of intentionally punctuating pain with celebration is profoundly Jewish. From Miriam’s tambourine on the shores of the Sea of Reeds to the wedding glass broken even in moments of bliss, from modern practices like the transition of Yom HaZikaron to Yom HaAtzmaut, we are a people who practice deeply embracing life’s messy complexities. As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z’’l wrote, “Faith is not certainty; it is the courage to live with uncertainty.” Lag B’Omer reminds us that embracing joy – both cultivated and wild – can be a form of ometz lev, of courage.

This season on the Jewish calendar is not just about counting days—it’s about cultivating readiness. Pesach represents our liberation; Shavuot, our revelation. The 49 days of the Omer are the spiritual training montage between those two milestones. And Lag B’Omer? It’s the water break, the dance break, the snack break (with fire baked potatoes and s’mores)!

The Omer journey mirrors our lives: not quite where we were, not quite where we’re going. In the uncertainty, joy becomes an act of resistance. In a world that says “wait for happiness,” Lag B’Omer says, make room for it now. We cultivate joy not because everything is perfect, but because everything is not—and in spite of everything, we are still here, still trying, still journeying toward Sinai.

We hope that you will join us for our B’Omer Beach Bash at Incline Beach in Incline Village this Shabbat. Please RSVP here.