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Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai Left the Cave and Burned the World

After thirteen years of Torah study in hiding, Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai emerged with eyes so fierce that everything he looked at caught fire.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Remark That Made Him a Fugitive
  2. Thirteen Years in the Dark
  3. The Eyes That Could Not Bear the Ordinary World
  4. The Old Man Running With Myrtle

The Remark That Made Him a Fugitive

Three sages were sitting together, talking. Rabbi Yehudah praised the Romans: their markets, their bathhouses, their bridges. Rabbi Yossi said nothing. Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai answered that everything Rome built was built for Rome's sake alone. The markets served licentiousness. The bathhouses served Roman pleasure. The bridges were there to collect tolls. A student named Yehudah ben Gerim overheard the conversation and carried it to Roman ears. The empire's verdict came swiftly: Rabbi Yehudah, who had praised Rome, was promoted. Rabbi Yossi, who had said nothing, was exiled to Sepphoris. Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai, who had spoken the truth about Rome's purposes, was condemned to death.

He fled with his son Eleazar into the hills. They found a cave near the village of Peki'in and went inside.

Thirteen Years in the Dark

A carob tree grew up at the cave's entrance. A spring of water burst from the stone floor. They ate carobs and drank from the spring and studied Torah without stopping. To preserve their clothing, they buried themselves in sand up to their necks. The sand kept them warm and kept the cloth from wearing out. They removed it only to pray. For thirteen years, the world outside the cave continued without them: emperors died and were replaced, Roman edicts were issued and forgotten, seasons turned. Rabbi Shimon and his son had only Torah.

On the day they finally emerged, they had heard that the emperor who had condemned Rabbi Shimon was dead and the decree was lifted. They blinked in sunlight for the first time in thirteen years and walked down from the hills.

The Eyes That Could Not Bear the Ordinary World

They came across a farmer plowing a field. Rabbi Shimon looked at him and the field began to burn. He looked at something else and it caught fire too. Everything ordinary, everything that belonged to the world of commerce and labor and daily life, ignited under his gaze. A heavenly voice spoke: "Have you come out to destroy My world? Return to your cave."

They went back. They stayed another twelve months. When they came out again, Rabbi Eleazar still carried the same burning intensity. Where his son looked, things were damaged. Rabbi Shimon came behind him and healed what Eleazar had destroyed, touching things gently to restore them. A voice spoke again: "go out now." And they did.

The Talmud marks the transition with a detail that clarifies what the fire was about. On a Friday afternoon, near sunset, they saw an old man running through the market carrying two bunches of myrtle. They asked him what he needed the myrtle for. He said: "to honor Shabbat." Two bunches? They asked. "One for 'remember' and one for 'observe,'" the two words the Torah uses for the Shabbat commandment in the two places it appears. Rabbi Shimon turned to his son and said: "See how precious the commandments are to Israel." The fire in his gaze quieted.

The Old Man Running With Myrtle

The image is deliberately placed at the end of the story as the resolution. What extinguished the burning that thirteen years of pure Torah had produced was not more Torah but ordinary Jewish life, an old man hurrying through a Friday market with myrtle branches. The sight of someone caring for a commandment with that specific urgency, that small domestic devotion, reached something in Rabbi Shimon that thirteen years of divine study had not prepared him for. He had come out of the cave ready to judge and consume. The old man with the myrtle forced him to remember that the people he was ready to burn were, in their daily lives, also doing this.

RashbiRabbi Shimon Bar YohaiCaveCarob TreeTorahRomeShabbat
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From the tradition

Sources

7 sources

The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Shabbat 33bHebraic Literature (1901)

Three Sages sat together. Rabbi Yehudah, Rabbi Yossi, and Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. And Rabbi Yehudah remarked how impressive the Romans were: they had built markets, bathhouses, bridges. Rabbi Yossi said nothing. But Rabbi Shimon spat back: "Everything they built, they built for themselves. Their markets feed licentiousness. Their bathhouses are for their own pleasure. Their bridges collect tolls."

A student named Yehudah ben Gerim overheard and carried the words to Roman ears. The Emperor's edict came swiftly. Rabbi Yehudah was promoted for his praise. Rabbi Yossi was banished to Sepphoris. Rabbi Shimon was sentenced to death.

The Cave at Peki'in

Rabbi Shimon and his son Elazar fled. First they hid in the study hall, where Shimon's wife brought them bread and water. But fearing she might crack under interrogation, they went deeper, into a cave. There the Holy One performed a miracle: a carob tree sprouted bearing fruit year-round, and a spring opened for their drinking.

To preserve their clothes they stripped them off, burying themselves in sand up to the neck, studying Torah twelve hours a day. Only for prayer did they dress. Twelve years passed this way.

The Prophet at the Mouth of the Cave

Then Elijah appeared at the entrance with news: the Emperor was dead. The decree was void. Father and son emerged. But their eyes had been rewired by the cave. When they saw farmers plowing and sowing, Rabbi Shimon exclaimed, "They neglect eternal things and busy themselves with the temporal!" Wherever they looked, fields burst into flame.

A Bat Kol, a heavenly voice, thundered: "Have you come out to destroy My world? Go back to your cave!"

They returned for twelve more months. When they finally pleaded to be released, noting that even the wicked in Gehinnom serve only twelve months, the Bat Kol called them out again. This time their eyes had softened. This time they could bear the sight of a world that was not made entirely of study.

The cave gave them Torah. The year after gave them mercy.

Full source
Shabbat 33bTalmud Bavli, Shabbat

He and his son went and hid in the study hall. Each day his wife would bring them bread and a jug of water, and they would eat. When the decree grew more severe, he said to his son: Women are of light mind; perhaps they will cause her distress and she will reveal us. They went and hid in a cave. A miracle occurred for them, and a carob tree and a spring of water were created for them. They would remove their garments and sit up to their necks in sand. All day long they would study. At the time of prayer they would put on their garments, cover themselves, and pray, and then remove their garments again so that they would not wear out. They stayed in the cave twelve years. Elijah came and stood at the entrance of the cave and said: Who will inform bar Yochai that the emperor has died and his decree is annulled?

They went out and saw people plowing and sowing. They said: They forsake eternal life and occupy themselves with temporal life. Every place upon which they cast their eyes was immediately burned. A heavenly voice went forth and said to them: Have you come out to destroy My world? Return to your cave! They went back and stayed twelve months of the year. They said: The judgment of the wicked in Gehinnom is twelve months. A heavenly voice went forth and said: Go out from your cave! They went out.

Full source
Gaster, Exempla No. 206The Exempla of the Rabbis (1924)

When Rome decreed death for Jews who taught Torah, Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai and his son fled into a cave. They stayed there thirteen years. A carob tree sprang up at the mouth of the cave, and a spring of water burst from the stone floor. They ate carobs and drank spring water and studied Torah until their bodies nearly disappeared under the cloaks they had stripped off so as not to wear them out. Gaster's Exempla (1924), No. 206, preserves the tale.

One day they saw a fowler in the field outside the cave. He was setting traps for birds. He caught nothing until, from Heaven, a voice pronounced: this bird is decreed. Only then did a bird fall into his snare. If Heaven had not issued the decree, the bird flew free.

Shimon turned to his son. "If not even a bird is taken without a decree from Above, a man is certainly not taken without one. Let us leave the cave." They walked out into the sunlight after thirteen years of hiding. Rome never caught them.

Rabbi Shimon went to Tiberias and began purifying the city. Dead bodies had been buried in the streets over the years, and no one knew where; priests could not walk freely. Shimon stood in the square and called. And the dead rose from under the stones, marked themselves, and lay back down so that their graves could be avoided.

A hostile Kuthean mocked him, re-buried a corpse that Shimon had cleared and taunted him in public. Shimon raised the man from the dead so the deception was exposed, and the Kuthean dropped dead in his place. Every part of this story is about the same truth: nothing moves on earth, not a bird, not a corpse, not a Roman decree, without Heaven's word behind it.

The cave was not an escape. It was a classroom.

Full source
Exempla of the Rabbis, No. 206Exempla of the Rabbis (Gaster, 1924)

For thirteen years, Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai and his son Rabbi Elazar hid in a cave, fugitives from the Roman Empire. The Talmud (Shabbat 33b) records how they survived and what happened when they emerged.

A carob tree grew at the cave's entrance, and a spring of water appeared, miraculous sustenance for the duration of their exile. They buried themselves in sand up to their necks to preserve their clothing, and spent every hour of every day studying Torah. For thirteen years, nothing existed for them but Torah, prayer, and survival.

When they finally emerged, after hearing that the emperor had died and the decree against them was lifted, they saw people plowing fields and planting seeds. Rabbi Shimon was enraged. "These people abandon eternal life and busy themselves with temporal life!" Everywhere he looked, his gaze set things on fire.

A heavenly voice spoke: "Did you emerge to destroy My world? Go back to your cave!" They returned for another twelve months. When they came out again, Rabbi Elazar still destroyed whatever he saw. But Rabbi Shimon healed it. "My son, you and I are sufficient for the world," he said.

On the eve of the Sabbath, they saw an old man running with two bundles of myrtle. "What are these for?" they asked. "To honor the Sabbath," he replied. Rabbi Shimon turned to his son: "See how precious the commandments are to Israel." And their minds were finally set at ease. The world was not as hollow as the cave had made it seem.

Full source
Baal HaSulam's Introduction to Zohar 59:1Baal HaSulam's Introduction to Zohar

That’s how it feels to approach the Zohar, that mystical foundation of Kabbalah. But who actually wrote this ancient text? The answer, surprisingly, isn't as straightforward as it first appears.

For those immersed in Kabbalah, there’s little debate. The author is, without question, the holy Tanna, Rabbi Shimon bar Yoḥai. He lived in the 2nd century CE, during the Roman occupation of Judea. Tradition holds that Rabbi Shimon, fleeing persecution, spent thirteen years hidden in a cave, where he communed with the Divine and received profound insights. These insights, according to tradition, became the foundation of the Zohar.

Not everyone agrees.

some, “distant from this wisdom,” as Baal HaSulam puts it in his introduction to the Zohar, propose a different origin story. They suggest that Rabbi Moshe de Leon, a 13th-century Spanish Kabbalist, or his contemporaries, were the true authors. Why the discrepancy? Well, it boils down to a few things: historical context, textual analysis, and, perhaps most importantly, one's openness to the mystical worldview the Zohar presents.

The claim that Rabbi Moshe de Leon (or someone of his time) wrote the Zohar isn’t just idle speculation. It's rooted in historical and literary arguments. Some point to the Aramaic style of the Zohar, which, they argue, resembles the Aramaic used in 13th-century Spain more than the Aramaic spoken in 2nd-century Judea. Others highlight the Zohar's extensive engagement with Kabbalistic concepts that developed after Rabbi Shimon bar Yoḥai's time.

So, what are we to make of these competing claims? Does it even matter who wrote the Zohar?

Perhaps the more important question is: What does the Zohar teach us? Regardless of its authorship, the Zohar continues to inspire and challenge readers to delve deeper into the mysteries of existence. It invites us to explore the hidden dimensions of reality, to confront the nature of God, and to seek a more profound connection with the Divine. And maybe, just maybe, that's a journey worth taking, no matter who penned the words that guide us.

Full source
Exempla of the Rabbis, No. 206Exempla of the Rabbis (Gaster, 1924)

This tale, preserved in Gaster's Exempla of the Rabbis, retells one of the most beloved legends of R. Shimeon ben Yohai, the second-century sage to whom tradition later attributed deep mystical teaching. Fearing Roman persecution after he was overheard speaking against the empire, he and his son fled and hid in a cavern for thirteen years. They were sustained miraculously: a carob tree (the Harub) sprang up at the cave's mouth and a spring of fresh water flowed inside, so that food and drink were provided without any human hand.

One day the two emerged and watched a fowler trying to trap birds. They noticed that the man caught a bird only after a voice from Heaven had pronounced a decree upon it; the birds that Heaven had not marked escaped the snare. From this they drew a lesson about Providence. If even a small bird cannot fall into a net unless it has been decreed from above, then surely a person's life is equally in God's hands. Reassured that the Romans could not harm them unless death had been decreed from Heaven, they left the cavern with their fear stilled.

The story then turns to R. Shimeon's return to public life. He went to Tiberias and purified the place of the dead bodies hidden in its ground, and at his bidding the corpses rose up from beneath the earth so the area could be cleansed. Afterward a Kuthaean, a Samaritan scornful of the sage, secretly buried a corpse in the street that R. Shimeon had declared clean and then mocked him for it. In response R. Shimeon caused the dead man to rise and walk, exposing the deceit, and the mocking Kuthaean died.

Full source
Legends of the Jews 7:27Legends of the Jews

This is about Rabbi Simon ben Yohai, a contemporary of Rabbi Meir. Now, Rabbi Simon wasn't just any rabbi. He was a force of nature, a brilliant scholar, and, unfortunately for him, not a big fan of the Roman Empire. In fact, he spoke out against them. And in those days, that could get you in a lot of trouble.

In Legends of the Jews, Rabbi Simon had to spend thirteen long years hiding in a cave to escape the Romans' wrath. Can you imagine? Thirteen years! But He wasn't alone. Elijah, yes that Elijah the Prophet, kept tabs on him. Think of Elijah as this ever-present, divinely appointed helper.

One day, Elijah appeared to Rabbi Simon with some news: the emperor who wanted him dead was, well, dead. It was safe to come out.

Elijah's involvement doesn't stop there. He wasn't just a messenger of good tidings for rabbis in hiding. He was also a champion of the poor, a helper to those in need.

Take the story of Rabbi Kahana. This poor soul was so destitute that he had to hawk household goods just to survive. Imagine, a rabbi reduced to such a state. And things got even worse. A woman of high social standing tried to force him into a compromising situation. Refusing to compromise his morals, Rabbi Kahana chose a drastic measure: he jumped from a loft.

Now, you might think that's the end of the story. Tragedy strikes, curtain falls. But remember Elijah? He wasn't about to let this righteous man fall. The story goes that even though Elijah was four hundred parasangs (an ancient unit of distance) away – that's a long way – he rushed to Rabbi Kahana's aid and caught him before he hit the ground.

But the help didn't end there. Elijah also provided Rabbi Kahana with enough money to give up his precarious and dangerous occupation. He went from struggling peddler to someone with the means to live with dignity.

What do these stories tell us? Maybe it's that even in the darkest of times, when we feel most alone and vulnerable, we're not truly forgotten. Maybe it’s that help can come from the most unexpected places, even from a prophet who lived centuries ago.

And perhaps, just perhaps, it’s a reminder to be like Elijah: to be aware of the suffering around us and to do what we can, in our own way, to offer a helping hand. Because who knows? Maybe, just maybe, we can be someone else's Elijah.

Full source