Never Give Up

Lag B’Omer 5782

A number of weeks ago, I wrote about the Gemara in Niddah (31b) that addresses the korban chatas that a woman would bring after giving birth when the Bais HaMikdash stood. The Gemara attempts to resolve why it is that a chatas, a sin offering, of all korbanos is appropriate, insofar as bringing a new Jewish child into the world could not possibly be construed as any sort of sin. 

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai suggests that the chatas is brought not as a function of giving birth, but of the promise a woman makes while laboring through birth pangs. It is presumed that at some point, a woman insists that she will never go through such an arduous experience again, that this will be the last child she brings into the world. Returning to her husband would place her in violation of this oath, and it is for this reason that she must bring a korban chatas.

There is some significant pushback to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai’s explanation. The Gemara proceeds to quote a number of objections raised by Rav Yosef to Rabbi Shimon’s rationale stemming from a number of technical issues regarding the violation of this oath and the role of a korban in doing anything to ameliorate the situation. 

No defense is offered on behalf of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. Perhaps because there is no real means of disarming Rav Yosef’s attacks that deal with technical halachic considerations. For Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, the Torah’s demand for a korban may be born out of a broader philosophical concern. One that Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai was uniquely positioned to discern.

Where did Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai come from? What was the great turning point in his career of Torah study that could be credited with his ultimately becoming one of the Jewish People’s most brilliant sages, teachers, and leaders?

The Gemara in Yevamos tersely describes that catastrophe that led our nation to associate the Omer with mourning. Rabbi Akiva sat at the helm of a yeshiva whose student body numbered 24,000. In the brief period between Pesach and Shavuos one fateful year, all 24,000 perished. The Gemara records the spiritual cause of this physical plague: שלא נהגו כבוד זה לזה—they did not treat one another with respect. 

It is difficult to appreciate the scope of this loss; 24,000 is a number too large to wrap our heads around and to understand its magnitude. The number of affected families, the number of people sitting shiva, and the utter unraveling of so much of the progress that the Torah world had been making to that point in producing the talmidei chachamim of the next generation. Who could have blamed Rabbi Akiva if he had sunk into an irreversible state of depression, living out his remaining days far from public service? It is unfathomable that someone who absorbed the full brunt of this tidal wave of death and destruction could possible resurface and move on. Yet the unfathomable happened:

וְהָיָה הָעוֹלָם שָׁמֵם, עַד שֶׁבָּא רַבִּי עֲקִיבָא אֵצֶל רַבּוֹתֵינוּ שֶׁבַּדָּרוֹם וּשְׁנָאָהּ לָהֶם: רַבִּי מֵאִיר, וְרַבִּי יְהוּדָה, וְרַבִּי יוֹסֵי, וְרַבִּי שִׁמְעוֹן, וְרַבִּי אֶלְעָזָר בֶּן שַׁמּוּעַ, וְהֵם הֵם הֶעֱמִידוּ תּוֹרָה אוֹתָהּ שָׁעָה.

יבמות סב:

And the world was desolate until Rabbi Akiva came to our sages of the south and taught them: Rabbi Meir, Rabbi, Yehudah, Rabbi Yosei, Rabbi Shimon, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua. And they are the ones who restored Torah at that time.

Yevamos 62b

The Rabbi Shimon mentioned in the Gemara above is none other than the great Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. Which leaves us to wonder: what would have happened had Rabbi Akiva succumbed to despair? What if Rabbi Akiva never made that fateful trip to the south and began to teach a new group of five following the loss of the 24,000? What if Rabbi Akiva had said, “It’s just too painful. I can’t do this again.”?

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai’s entire life was predicated on his rebbe’s insistence that such words are treif. There is no point at which one may say it’s too hard to persevere, it’s too painful to press on. And so it is unsurprising that it is Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai who wags a long scolding finger when a woman makes an oath—whether out loud, or maybe only in her mind—that she can’t go through it again, that the pain is too great to bring another neshamah into this world. Because where would Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai—or the rest of us—had been if Rabbi Akiva had allowed himself to think the same? 

Our mesorah associates two events with Lag B’Omer: the end of the plague that consumed Rabbi Akiva’s many thousands of talmidim, and the death of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. It is unusual to turn a yahrtzeit into a celebration, and yet perhaps for Rabbi Shimon it is most fitting. Because notwithstanding all that he produced and accomplished in his life, the Jewish People marched on even after his passing—a value that his very life and career personified. That Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai was someone worth remembering may say even more about the tenacity of his teacher than of his own, which translates into an insistence that a Jew must always rebound and must never give up. 

On those days when we just want to pull the covers back over our heads. Or those times in our life when we just want to throw in the towel. When we feel we would be justified in giving up and closing up shop. It’s worth keeping Rabbi Akiva in mind. If we cave and just pull the covers back over our heads, how many would-be Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai’s might we be leaving behind?