It is well known that the incredible saga of Rav Shimon Bar Yochai and his son, Rav Eliezer, writing the holy Zohar in the cave may be found in Maseches Shabbos 33b. The Aruch Hashulchan (Orach Chaim 493:7) noted that Rav Shimon and his son left the cave on the 33rd day of the Omer and that Rav Shimon also passed away on this day in later years. Indeed, the significance of the number continues with the revelation that the narrative of the cave is the 33rd mention of Rav Shimon in Shas (Rav Shalom of Kaminka, talmid muvhak of the Sar Sholom of Belz). Over the centuries, many esoteric aspects of this sojourn of the father and son have emerged. Some are beyond this writer and this article. However, some of these revelations and explications offer us practical suggestions for improving our own avodas Hashem and various aspects of our spiritual lives. In honor of the upcoming kedusha of this special day, let’s explore some of these to the extent that we are capable and permitted to do so.

That Gemara in Shabbos tells us that Rav Shimon and Rav Eliezer only put on their clothing during their entire occupation of the cave for twelve full years in order to daven. The rest of the time, they “sat covered in sand up to their necks.” The question is why they did such a strange thing. The Shelah Hakadosh teaches that they were in effect burying themselves. Again, to what end? One answer is actually almost obvious. The Gemara (Brachos 63b) asks: “How do we know that the Torah is not sustained in a person unless he kills himself over it? [It may be derived] from the posuk, ‘This is the Torah [of] a person who dies in a tent.’” The Maharal (Netzach Yisroel, Chapter 7) explains that the corporeality of the body and the spirituality of the soul are two opposites. He therefore raises the major issue: “How, then, can the Torah, which is pure intellect, reside in the body, which is totally materialistic?” Therefore, a person must (figuratively, not literally) eliminate his physical self so that the Torah within him can survive.”

Of course, we must be extremely careful here. Not only does the Torah forbid suicide, but one of the main mandates of the Torah (last week’s parsha, Acharei Mos) is “You shall live by them” (Vayikra 18:5), to which Chazal (Yoma 85b) add, “But not die by them.” The Gemara elsewhere (Tamid 32a) records that one of the questions Alexander the Great put to the Elders of the South was: “What should a person do in order to live?” Their cryptic answer was: “He should kill himself.” What can all this possibly mean coming from our life-affirming Torah?

The Imrei Emes of Gur (Likkutim, Maseches Tamid, page 90) explained that the term yamus es atzmo, which is mistranslated literally as “should kill himself,” actually means “should kill his ‘self,’” meaning his ego and self-centeredness. The Shelah also references the verse in Koheles (7:29), which states that “Hashem originally made man perfectly straight.” In other words, we are inherently perfect but tend to ruin the perfection that the Creator granted us. Thus, when Rav Shimon and Rav Eliezer buried themselves inside the cave, they were actually renouncing any shred of self that they still possessed. Slowly and painfully, as the Gemara there describes, they had eliminated any personal needs, wants or desires, and lived perfectly in a state of wanting solely to do the will of Hashem.

Let us stop here for a moment and attempt to extrapolate something for ourselves. That may seem both ironic and somewhat sacrilegious, but plumbs to the heart of Lag Ba’omer.

On this day, as we commune and draw as close as we can to Rav Shimon, we are granted an annual possibility of negating any trivial or even necessary physical inclinations so that we can enhance our precious neshomah and make it the dominant force in our lives. Of course, for Rav Shimon and Rav Eliezer, that meant an actual burial, the removal of any physical desires whatsoever and being fed by foods as close to monn as humanly possible. For us, this can mean something as simple as giving up anything that we desire but is not good for us. It can mean drawing a drop closer to the ideal of prioritizing the soul over the body. It can even mean learning something in which we are not particularly interested or attracted just to fulfill the wish of the Al-mighty.

Rav Yehoshua of Kutna (end of Sefer Yeshuos Malko) cites the ancient custom of burning expensive clothing at the grave of Rav Shimon in Meron. Rav Yosef Shaul Nathanson (Shoel Umeishiv 5:39) is extremely critical of this minhag. He concludes, “Trust me, if those people had just taken the funds that these articles of clothing cost and given them to the impoverished, both Rav Shimon and the poor would have been very happy.” However, Rav Kutna defends the custom by explaining that Rav Shimon and his son had returned to the status of Adam Harishon before he sinned. At that point, he had no need for clothing and neither did Rav Shimon and Rav Eliezer.

Based upon these powerful words, several gedolim have understood another description in the Gemara about the cave. When the Tannaim left their cave, Rav Pinchos ben Yair, Rav Shimon’s son-in-law, brought him to a bathhouse for a long-delayed bath. When Rav Pinchos attempted to smooth the cut and cracked skin of his father-in-law, he cried over the state of his pain-wracked body. He cried tears, but they only caused more pain when they entered the cracks in his body. “Woe is to me that I should see you so,” lamented Rav Pinchos. But Rav Shimon responded, “You should be happy to see me like this because this has improved me tremendously.”

Many of our meforshim (see Sefer Kedai Hu Rebbi Shimon, page 93) apply the lesson to us all. When the body is reduced by pain and suffering, the soul gains the ascendency. When the body is pampered, the soul loses out, although the body is temporarily satisfied. The posuk (Koheles 2:9) tells us that Shlomo Hamelech retained his Torah knowledge even when he engaged in some of the (permissible) comforts of this world. However, Chazal (Medrash, Koheles Rabbah) interpret the posuk to mean that “the chochmah I learned in difficult circumstances stayed with me more than anything I learned when things were easy.” The Brisker Rov used to say that the Torah he learned and taught under extremes of anti-Semitism and danger, such as under the Nazis and, later, the bombing in Yerushalayim, was absorbed on a much higher level. Rav Shach, too, testified that when he was a young orphan, he learned alone in an empty shul in the winter cold with very little food. He later reflected that those harsh conditions resulted in the highest levels of Torah that he had ever experienced. The prototype of this attitude toward Torah learning is Rav Shimon and his son in the cave.

We are now in a position to at least partially understand the relationship between Lag Ba’omer and the death of Rabi Akiva’s 24,000 talmidim. The Maggid of Kozhnitz (Avodas Yisroel, Parshas Behar, page 169) teaches that after the tragedy of all these deaths during the Omer, the five new talmidim of Rabi Akiva who restored Torah to Klal Yisroel were also mesakein — rectified — the souls of those who passed away. In truth, these were very lofty neshamos who should have lived longer and accomplished much. However, as we know, their sin in not giving each other sufficient honor caused their deaths. But since they were inherently keilim — vessels — who could have enhanced Klal Yisroel, the rule about earthenware vessels is that “sheviroson zu taharoson — their becoming broken is their purification” (Maseches Keilim 2:1). The new five elevated the souls of the 24,000 to the point that their souls received the kapparah that they required.

These holy words of the Maggid answer an ancient question. The Tur and other Rishonim write that the joy of Lag Ba’omer flows from the fact that the talmidim of Rabi Akiva ceased dying. Yet, as the Pri Chodosh asks, what was the joy in the cessation of their deaths when there was no one left to die? Clearly, if Rabi Akiva had to start fresh, not one was left alive. However, according to the Maggid, we celebrate today that whereas, for whatever reason, the original talmidim of Rabi Akiva failed in their bein adam lachaveiro, the new five talmidim were moser nefesh to elevate the souls of their predecessors. This noble act is the source of our joy on this day. Here, too, we can emulate Rabi Shimon and his colleagues. If we daven for our ancestors, even and perhaps especially for those who require a kapparah, our ahavas Yisroel and caring bring about new love for us from Hashem.

All in all, if we try to put ourselves back in the cave with Rav Shimon and to elevate the souls of those who came before us, we can gain much from the holy day of Lag Ba’omer that we are fortunate enough to have coming our way.