Lag B’Omer literally means the thirty-third day of the Omer, the one day of festivities in the midst of the forty-nine days of semi-mourning between Pass¬over and Shavuot. Although in Biblical times this bridge period between our Exodus from Egypt and the Divine revelation at Sinai were joyous days of the omer grain offering and a daily count¬down of anxious expectation— “And you shall count for your¬selves from the morrow after the Festival (of Passover), the day that you bring the grain (omer) of the wave offering, seven complete Sabbaths shall there be. To the morrow after the seventh Sabbath week shall you number 50 days.” (Lev. 23:15-16). Nevertheless, the ironies of history cast a tragic cloud over this seven-week period when 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva one of the greatest  Sages of the Mishnah, were felled by a plague.

The Talmudic sage Rav Nahman gives the cause of this scourge as askara, which most commentaries explain as a plague of diphtheria or croup, but which others suggest comes from the Greek sikarii, or sword, referring to the tragic defeat of the Bar Kochba rebellion against Rome—a rebellion which was supported by Rabbi Akiva and his disciples. Whatever the physical reason for their death may have been, the Talmud definitively provides the moral cause of their downfall: “They did not accord each other proper respect” (B.T. Tractate Yevamot 62b).

It may be difficult to conceive that a mere lack of mutual respect should make the best and the brightest deserve such an extreme punishment, but the halachic reality of our daily lives has turned a Biblical and climatic period, bursting with new beginnings and new crops, into a period of devastation - no weddings, no social gatherings, no proper grooming.

But there is one day when all this changes, Lag B’Omer. On that day, on the hill near Montefiore’s Windmill in the heart of Jerusalem, streams of couples spend the day posing for the videographers and their cameras. And if a couple made their momentous decision too close to Lag b’Omer to find a hall, they better have a cousin with a large garden. It’s not just the caterers and musicians and photographers who throw themselves into the charged atmosphere of the day; it’s the barbers, the entertainers and the myriad youngsters of all ages who are enchanted by bonfires replete with snacks, songs and stories.

But when all is said and done, what exactly is the nation celebrating? Rav Menachem Meiri (1249-13 16), in his comprehensive Talmudic commentary, cites a Geonic tradition that only on Lag B’Omer did the disciples of Rabbi Akiva not die. Big deal?! What an anti-climax. Such universal celebration because the plague of death was given a temporary respite of 24 hours. Even with this brief recess, the next day 500 more sages lost their lives, and every day thereafter until Shavuot.

Rabbi Isaac Bernstein, z”l, of London, one of the most erudite and fearless voices of the post-war modern rabbinate, records a conversation between two great Torah luminaries which sheds light on the significance of the Geonic comment. Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski, one of the leaders of Lithuanian Jewry, and the Ostrovtzer Rebbe, Rabbi Mayer Yechiel Ha-Levi (1851-1928), one of the leaders of Polish Jewry, were discussing Torah. After hearing an interpretation of his colleagues which pleased him, the Rav said to the Rebbe, “Atah gavra rabah, you are indeed a great man.” The Rebbe countered, “I appreciate your endorsement of my scholarship, but a gavra rabah isn’t simply a Talmud chacham (an expert in Talmudic law), a great man (gavra rabbah) is someone who lessens Jewish suffering, someone who loves Jews so much that he will do whatever necessary to lessen their pain.”

And he proved his claim from a famous passage in the Babylonian Talmud Tractate Makkot. The great sage Rava decries the common practice of observant Jews to rise up before a Torah Scroll, but who remain seated in the presence of a Torah Sage— a gavra rabah. After all, argues Rava, the literal Biblical verse ordains that the individual who transgresses a Biblical negative command “must be punished with forty lashes, and not any more” (Deut. 25:3). The Sages, those who qualify for the appel¬lation gavra rabah interpret this to mean one less than forty— thirty-nine. How foolish it is to rise before the Torah scroll, and not before the “great men” who interpret it—and even seem to change thereby its literal meaning, argues Rava.

The Rebbe then asked his Lithuanian counterpart: “Why did Rava choose for his example the Sages’ lessening of lashes from 40 to 39 (against the literal text), rather than the Sages’ lessening of the counting of each day between Passover and Shavuot from 50 to 49? After all, the Bible reads, “You shall count 50 days” (Lev. 23:16), and the rabbis interpret this to mean 49 days. Remember also that the book of Leviticus precedes the verse in Deuteronomy. Explained the Rebbe of Ostrovtze: Obviously, we must conclude that a gavra rabah is not merely a sage who explores, expands and changes the literal meaning of the Torah, but is rather someone who, in so doing, also reduces Jewish suffering, even the suffering of a transgressor.

A cynic can always ask: What is the difference between 40 lashes and 39 lashes? What is the significance of five hundred less dead bodies when 24,000 corpses had to be buried? The answer is that every human life is of inestimable value; saving an individual from even a small amount of suffering is of critical importance. Apparently, the disciples of R. Akiva didn’t understand this fundamental Jewish truth, and therefore did not sufficiently respect each other, causing their colleagues pain and embarrassment.  Subsequent generations had to learn to venerate and celebrate even a momentary lessening of Jewish suffering and death- and that only someone that saves another from pain is worthy of being called “great”.