Palestine Jews Perform Ritual with Deep, Impressive Meaning

(The following article is a description of the manner in which Palestinian Jews, especially those living in Safed, celebrate Lag Ba’omer, which commences this evening. The writer of the article dwells particularly on the ceremony at the grave of Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai, who, the Cabalists believe, died on the thirty-third day of the 49-day interval beginning on the second day of Passover and ending with the feast of Pentecost. Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai is believed to have been the author of the Zohar, mystic work mentioned in the article. The Zohar, believed to be a revelation to the rabbi from God, contains a cabalistic theosophy written in the form of a commentary on the Pentateuch.. Illuminations play so large a part in the Meron celebration because it is believed that at the death of Simeon the world was filled with light.)

The road which leads from Safed to Meron suddenly assumes a different aspect. Noise, excitement, waggons crammed full of people. No end to the donkeys which get in everyone’s way. People on horse back, afoot, in conveyances, all impelled by one desire, go in one direction-towards Meron!

The dust of the road rises higher and higher, getting into everyone’s throat and settling on one’s lungs-but whom could that keep from the joy which awaits him or from the blazing fire which will spread about the grave of Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai? The spirit takes hold of everyone, young and old alike. Here comes an old Jew from Safed on a donkey. The Jew has long side locks and is wearing a fur-edged cap. There on a tall horse is a swarthy, sunburned chalutz. There are Jews from all parts of the world here, each wearing the costume peculiar to his habitat. There are Sephardim, wearing red fazzas or turbans. There are emaciated Yemenites with blazing black eyes, Bukharian Jews with protruding stomachs. Women and girls add to the confusion, which grows greater and louder. Donkeys bray at the top of their voices, horses neigh, automobiles break their way through shrilly. The animals and machines mingle with the sea of humans streaming endlessly towards Meron.

‘THE SEA OF HUMAN HEADS’

And when, before sunset, one gets to Meron, one feels as though one is a part of a gigantic sea of human heads. One’s eyes search in vain for an unoccupied spot. All day long preparations have been in progress for the ceremonial fire. The dances have not ceased for a moment. There has been scraping of fiddles and beating of drums. The flutes and the trumpets have done their best to outdo the rest. And how many were fortunate enough to get inside the yard surrounding the grave of Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai?

Thousands of people were crowded into the space. From everywhere, from every house top and every staircase, people strain, eyes fixed upon the tombstones of the great holy man at rest there for hundreds of years.

The space around the grave has been transformed into a great fair Booths with all sorts of things for sale have been set up. The sellers shout noisily, pulling in the customers from everywhere about sweet cakes, cold drinks to quench the dry thirst in one’s throat. The shrill music of the bands does not cease. Thousands of heads sway back and forth. There are many Arabs in the crowd, and Georgian Jews from the nearby hills. They too observe the holiday of the great holy man.

Here is a group of young people dancing in a ring. They are pious pupils from the yeshivas, wearing long curly sidelocks. And there is a sunburned chalutz, head wound about with a cloth, among them. They circle about, singing. They clap their hands, and the light of ecstasy in their eyes increases. They are preparing for the real sacrificial fire which will soon begin.

The honorable settlers of Safed have just arrived, and the Buyaner Rebbe accompanied by his pupils. They bring the scroll in with songs and exclamations of joy. Force and enthusiasm help to make way for the bearers, who enter the yard about the Rabbi Simeon ben Yohai’s grave in great exaltation.

Night begins to fall quickly. However, the darkness disappears very suddenly, and on all sides flames rise up and illuminate the dark faces. The holiday spirit takes firmer hold of all hearts present.

Here and there in the crowd there is singing. Some say the Zohar enthusiastically. Hundreds and hundreds of candles flare up. People crowd upon each other in their eagerness to see over to where the sacrificial flame will soon appear. Mixed with the joyous exultation there are the weeping and wailing of prayers to God in Heaven. The smell of the oil lamps chokes up the air. Thousands and thousands of heads are lit up by the flaring lights and a holy glow.

THEY CAME WITH GIFTS

Near the grave of the holy man great basins have been placed. Jewish men, women and children come up and throw into them various clothes and cloths. Here is a woman coming up to hand a white silk dress to the sexton. There is a beatific expression upon her face. In one hand she bears a bottle filled with olive oil. Her children each touch the bottle, and drops of oil drip upon the white silk dress.

A second woman comes up with her household. Each member of the family bears a white kerchief. One by one she hands each kerchief over to be soaked in oil, that it may rise with the flame of the holy man.

Here is a Jew with a wide yellow beard. He throws silver coins upon the altar. A holy light comes into his eyes.

The sexton throws the clothes, cloths and other things handed to him into the basins. Bottles of oil are thrust upon him by dozens of hands.

Suddenly the singing ceases. Everybody holds his breath. A holy fear runs through the great crowd standing in the dim glow. The holy moment for which Jews from all parts of the land and from many lands have gathered here is at hand. The eyes of all are turned towards the grave, and with bated breath all await the flame which will rise from it.

PRAISE THE LORD!

And now the Rabbi of Safed, filled with awe and ready for the holy deed, walks up to the grave. He stands before the basin heaped high with clothes soaking in a sea of oil. He says a quiet prayer and throws a lighted torch into the oil.

Suddenly a great flame flares up. It lifts and spreads, catching up thousands of heads and igniting all hearts, so that a religious joy intoxicates the people. The fire crackles and sizzles and songs and shouts rise from the throats of thousands:

Bar Yohai, Bar Yohai, Our Lord Bar Yohai!

Elderly Jews and youngsters dance in circles about the flame. Their long side locks flutter in the breeze, the bright light is reflected in their eyes. And the fire rises higher and higher, reaching to the sky. One great conflagration has encircled all the world.

The crowd does not tire of adding clothes to the flame. Bottles of oil are added constantly, and the blaze grows stronger and stronger. The noise is indescribable. In every corner there is another band of musicians playing. And the singing grows louder and louder.

No notice is taken of the flight of time, for no one could tire of the holy fire, and no one feels the minutes disappear into the night. The night has been transformed into a great illuminated holiday. The spirit of the great holy man Simeon ben Yohai, is in every little corner. Those who have gathered here have thrown off their workaday worries and have forgotten the drabness of life and its troubles. Each has come to make a sacrifice, to gather up some of the holy spirit of the holy man.

The songs grow in strength and mingle with the glare which has pervaded the night skies.

Happy art thou, Bar Yohai!

The night nears its end. The fires begin to die down and weaken. The morning star rises in the heavens. A cool breeze comes up. The dawn becomes clearer and brighter every moment. The people, not tired by being up all night, stand near the grave, prayer books in hand, and weep. Women say the prayers written for them.

THE SUN ALSO RISES

The sun rises in the blue sky. Upper Galilee comes out in all its beauty. The high northern hills are blue against the horizon. Flocks of sheep are at pasture in the crevice-like valleys. The crowd at Meron thins out. Tired by the holiday they scatter over the holiday they scatter over the roads, each in the direction of his own village. Groups walk along like sobered crowds going home from a noisy wedding.

At the remains of the fire poor old women are puttering about, gathering up the remains of the burned rags, the mixture of oil and ashes, which is a talisman against women’s ailments.

And when morning arrives in all its sunny glory-then it is that the fathers bring their young sons to have their hair cut for the first time, a ceremony which is called by its Arab name, “Chalka.” The fathers distribute wine and honey cake. And the special haircutters, respectable Jews with long beards and side locks, grasp the scissors in trembling fingers, distract the children with pleasant talk and in the meantime shear them of their curly locks. The children scream with fright, and the fathers gloat with pride over them. And when the shearing is over, the parents hoist their sons to their shoulders and dance in a circle.

Horses, wagons and donkeys wend their way along the road to Meron. Autos rush by with noisy shrills. Satisfied, gratified persons go back, some to Safed, some to Tiberias. They spread over all of Galilee, each to his own place, whence he came.