The small flame stubbornly clung to the embers of wood and illuminated our faces with a weak light. The singed remains were a faint reminder of the huge bonfire that had burned until moments ago. It was a bonfire around which the entire neighborhood stood as it was lit and dozens of children danced around it to the tune of “Bar Yochai.”
Dozens of packages of sticky marshmallows, salty chips, and leftover meat, reminded us that the night was already behind us and very soon, the sun would rise. At that time, we would have to work hard to ensure the success of the grand Lag b’Omer parade which would begin at noon. In the meantime, we had to use the remaining time to listen to every word Srulik uttered.
Preparations for the big farbrengen had started two weeks earlier, while we had been busy dragging remnants of wood together.
“What are we going to do on Lag b’Omer this year?” asked Chaim, beginning the discussion.
“We can’t just let it go by like every other year. We have to do something major,” said Avromi.
“Right,” exclaimed little Yoel. “We can’t have it turn into a meeting of friends around a bonfire. It’s not the annual kumzitz. We have to do something this year that is much more meaningful.”
We all agreed with him.
“How about if we farbreng on Lag b’Omer with Srulik?” I proposed, making the first practical suggestion. “We will sit with him around the bonfire and he will explain to us what Lag B’Omer is about.”
“You think he’ll agree?” asked Chaim hesitantly. “He’ll be busy. He is responsible for the parade and has so much work to do.” The idea was nearly dismissed.
“Of course he’ll agree,” said Yoel. “We just have to talk to him. He wants to farbreng with us!” he said confidently, cheering us all up.
You’re probably wondering who Srulik is, so I’ll tell you. Srulik is a newly married man who lives in our community. Up until a few years ago, Srulik ran the successful “Oro shel Moshiach” camp, so we all knew him from there. After he married, he moved to our community and since then, the Tzivos Hashem activities changed completely. He took charge of all the activities with children on behalf of the Chabad House. He announced new contests, started a yeshivas erev, increased the number of people who go out to Mesibos Shabbos, and has become a good friend of all the children. So if we were going to get a mashpia to farbreng on Lag B’Omer, Srulik was our first choice.
Srulik did not disappoint. He happily agreed to farbreng. After dozens of discussions about a place and time for the farbrengen, details that included the menu, the time we would begin, and numerous other things, more and less important, we found ourselves Lag B’Omer night, sitting in a circle with Srulik.
“Does anyone know why we lit a big bonfire tonight?” began Srulik.
“I’m not sure, but I think it is like a huge yahrtzait candle which we are lighting in honor of the passing of Rashbi,” said Avi hesitantly.
“That is correct,” said Srulik with a smile, “but there are other reasons too.”
One of them has to do with a story that occurred on Lag B’Omer, on the day that Rashbi passed away. Before he died, all of his great students gathered round him to take leave of their beloved teacher. Rabbi Shimon, who knew these were his final hours, began to lecture and reveal to them “p’nimius ha’Torah,” the greatest Torah secrets.
“That’s the teachings of Kabbala,” interjected Shneur.
“Correct,” confirmed Srulik. “While R’ Shimon revealed p’nimius ha’Torah, a great fire surrounded him which grew and grew. With every secret that he revealed, the fire got bigger, until he rose to heaven surrounded by this great fire.
“That’s why we light bonfires on Lag b’Omer!” exclaimed Chaim.
“Yes, exactly,” smiled Srulik. “The Rebbe Rashab said in one of his maamarei Chassidus that the day of Lag b’Omer is actually the Mattan Torah of p’nimius ha’Torah.”
Srulik then began a niggun gaaguim that drew us all in. As we sang, I thought about what Srulik had said. I pictured Rashbi going to heaven and how all his students surrounded him as he told them the secrets of Kabbala.
But I didn’t understand something.
“One second,” I said, breaking the silence after the conclusion of the niggun. “We once heard that it is forbidden to learn Kabbala, so how could Rashbi teach it to his students?”
“That’s true,” said Srulik with a smile, and he began to explain. “In earlier generations, learning Kabbala was forbidden to simple people and was allowed only to Torah scholars who were fit to do so like R’ Shimon and his students.
“The meaning of the word ‘Kabbala’ comes from the root that means to receive, because the secrets of the Torah were received only by a few deserving people, by one from the next, and only they were allowed to learn it.”
“What do you mean?” asked Yoel, jumping up and knocking over the soda bottle. “Why can everyone learn it today?”
“It was once forbidden and now it’s a mitzva,” said Srulik.
“What? It’s a mitzva to learn Kabbala,” we all burst out saying.
“Yes,” said Srulik, unfazed by the joint attack. “In our times it is a mitzva to reveal this wisdom. One could say it’s even a must,” Srulik concluded with a mysterious smile.
“One minute, I don’t understand. Do you learn p’nimius ha’Torah?” Chaim asked.
“Yes, and so do you! Chassidus is p’nimius ha’Torah. Chassidus takes the secrets of the Zohar and Kabbala and makes them simpler to understand, changing them into concepts that even simple people can relate to.”
“One second,” I felt I had to clarify a point. “What happened? What changed that suddenly it is permissible to learn it?”
“Ah, I’ve been waiting for that question! The Rebbe explains that there are two reasons why now, in our times, it is permissible, and even vital, for everyone to learn p’nimius ha’Torah.
“The first reason is because of the spiritual descent of the generations. In earlier generations, a very great spiritual descent began and therefore, p’nimius ha’Torah was revealed in order to rectify the matter, like medication that heals a sick person.
“The second and more important reason is that it gives us a taste of the Geula. Just like on erev Shabbos, we taste the Shabbos food, so too, before the Geula, we taste the Torah teachings we will have in the Geula.”
“I am starting to understand,” said Chaim, who had been quiet for a long time. “Since we are the last generation of galus and the first generation of Geula, Hashem is already giving us the privilege of tasting and learning from the p’nimius ha’Torah that will be revealed in the future, in Chassidus.”
“Exactly,” said Srulik, happy with his response. “And the Rebbe goes further and says that the learning of p’nimius ha’Torah now, hastens the Geula.”
“So what do you all say – should we start a shiur in Chassidus?”