That’s the kind of feeling that permeates the story of the Ari, or Rabbi Isaac Luria (1534-1572), the great Kabbalist, and his annual pilgrimage to Meron.
Every Lag ba-Omer – that joyous day nestled between Passover and Shavuot – the Ari would lead his students to the grave of Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai in Meron. According to tradition, Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai was the author of the Zohar, the foundational text of Kabbalah. And there, at his resting place, they would dance.
Now, imagine this scene: a circle of students, their voices rising in song, their feet moving in rhythm. One Lag ba-Omer, something extraordinary happened. An old man appeared, swaying at the edge of the circle, as if carried on waves of music. He was dressed all in white, a white tallit, or prayer shawl, covering his head, and he had a beautiful white beard. The Zohar tells us that light is often associated with great spiritual figures. Sure enough, this old man radiated a mystical glory.
Suddenly, the Ari, without hesitation, took the old man's hand and began to dance with him. Can you picture it? A great light shone between them, a sacred radiance, like the light of many candles, tinged with blue and gold. The students watched, spellbound. According to the Israel Folktale Archives, tales like these about the circle of the Ari are still alive in Safed, Israel, today.
Their dancing went on for hours, well past midnight. Finally, the music faded, the steps slowed, and the old man took his leave. The disciples of the Ari, buzzing with excitement and wonder, immediately crowded around their teacher. "Who was that old man?" they asked. "Who was it that joined us in our celebration?"
The Ari, with a twinkle in his eye, revealed the truth: it was none other than Shimon bar Yohai himself.
What does this story tell us? It speaks to the profound connection between generations, between teacher and student, between the living and the legacy of the righteous. As we find in the Tree of Souls by Howard Schwartz, this tale links the greatness of the Ari and of Shimon bar Yohai, who are, in fact, the two primary sages associated with the Galilee. It's a kind of succession tale, showing that Shimon bar Yohai has selected the Ari to be his successor. This confirms the Ari's importance to be equal to that of Shimon bar Yohai, legendary author of the Zohar as well as the principal hero of its tales.
To this day, on Lag ba-Omer, campfires are lit all over Israel, especially in the Galilee, in honor of Shimon bar Yohai. It reminds us of the light that these great figures brought into the world, and the light that continues to shine through their teachings. As Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews and as we find in Midrash Rabbah, light is a common motif associated with holy people and events.
So, next time you see a bonfire on Lag ba-Omer, remember the Ari, his students, and the mysterious old man who joined their dance. Remember the enduring power of tradition, and the possibility that, sometimes, the veil between worlds thins, and we are graced with the presence of those who came before us. Perhaps, if we listen closely enough, we can even hear the music and feel the rhythm of their dance.