![]() I’d seen a rabbi, a descendent of Bar Yohai, throwing himself onto the top of the famed scholar’s tomb, weeping. I’d spent all day climbing up and down the hill, praying, people-watching, passing goats being slaughtered, and children playing every manner of ball game. I wrote this poem, “Bar Yohai (Ai Yai Yai),” after I attended Lag Ba’Omer in Meron. Perhaps when Shimon bar Yohai envisioned his followers celebrating rather than mourning, he knew that a party this good would come out of it. But Meron also becomes a place where strangers become friends. The festive meals–often picnics or barbecues–are yet another opportunity to break into song, storytelling, prayer, telling jokes, and simply spending time with family or friends.Īt first glance, the tiny hilltop town looks like complete mayhem. The entire mountainside is transformed into a promenade where superstars of the Israeli religious music scene participate in impromptu jams with the tourists. Chabad Hasidim are out in force luring tourists into donning tefillin. Young religious zealots dance to trance music or to the sound of their own drums. ![]() ![]() Benevolent people give away thousands of homemade sandwiches and salads. The hundreds of thousands of visitors build bonfires, sheht animals for feasts, and pray. In the area near the top of the mountain, tents pop up everywhere. ![]() It is a diverse crowd: male and female, old and young, ultra religious and completely secular. So every year on Lag Ba’Omer, this small town is overrun by nearly a million people, joining together in celebration. ![]()
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