Crossing the Yarden
By Yarden Frankl
Fire!!!!
Jewish holidays are more intense in Israel. To relate the story of the Jewish people's exodus from Egypt and arrival in Israel while gazing out the window at the Judean Hills is an incomparable feeling that you are indeed participating in the continuing journey of the Jewish nation. When you can walk through the mall before Chanukah and smell the Sufganiot and then later stroll down your block (or anyone's block) and see the chanukiot in all the windows, you really feel that this is where you belong. While we lived in a community with a number of Observant Jews in Maryland, we would still receive curious glances as we built our sukkot. Here, it is those who do not build a sukka because they will be away who are the ones left out.
I used to attend the Yom Hazichron/Yom Hatzmaot tekes at one of our local day schools, and the ceremony and celebration was always moving. Yet it does not compare to sitting with 300 families who are living their lives on this sacred piece of ground while watching the children who will one day defend us and build our nation march under the blue and white flag.
I had assumed that the celebration of these holidays would be so much more intense after we moved here, but there was one holiday I was completely unprepared for. I was not ready for the massive way Israel swung into the holiday of Lag B'Omer.
To say that I celebrated Lag B'Omer in Maryland would really be stretching the word "celebrate." My principle observance was marked by shaving. No Matza, no lulav, no raging out of control fires. Not even a candle. No, the holiday in my mind has always been identified with an electric razor.
I knew Lag B'Omer would be big because after Pesach it was clear that the children of Neve Daniel were engaged in a massive project that was either constructive or destructive, but nonetheless massive. My neighbors told me a good way to get rid of any wooden items too big for the dumpsters was to just leave them outside. Very soon kids were fighting over who had the right to burn my garbage.
As the evening of Lag B'Omer got closer, the pace of the bonfire construction became frenzied. Various piles of sticks, leftover building materials, and broken furniture appeared all over the Yishuv, fiercely guarded by young children with matches.
Our neighbors who had hosted a mongal party for us on Yom HaTzmaut invited us to a small fire for the young ones (it appears that this family is really into lighting things on fire). While that was nice, as the skies grew dark, I felt it was time to really see what all the fuss was about.
Like the Neve Daniel fog, it is difficult to describe the Lag B'Omer mayhem. Picture dozens and dozens of large fires with young budding arsonists gleefully running between them. In America, there is no way a private individual could light an outdoor wildfire without some firemen, police officers, emergency medical workers, politicians, and guys with clipboards milling around. Here in Israel, besides all the kids, all you had were a few Bnei Akiva madrichim nervously checking to make sure the out of control fires did not get too out of control. (Of course, with no water they had only their shoes to contain the little infernos.)
Before going to bed at some point after midnight, I drove around to see the spectacle. It was truly a moving and unsettling feeling to see this beautiful Yishuv decorated with a large number of out of control wild fires in the middle of the night.
Israel is a place where even the most minor holidays that are a part of our heritage take center stage. It is a place where Jewish kids can really go all out to be part of the action with nothing but encouragement from their parents, teachers, and Rabbis. Now I won't say that we made Aliyah so that my kids could stay up until the wee hours of the night dancing like madmen around fires on the 33rd day of the Omer.
Or maybe I will.
Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.
© 2006 Yarden Frankl
