Why We Mourn During the Omer—and Why It Still Matters

Moti asks: "Why do we mourn during the Omer, not get haircuts, and avoid music for an entire month, yet we don't mourn the Holocaust? After all, more than 24,000 Jews were killed in it. And why do we keep mourning during the Omer for an event that happened thousands of years ago?"

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Hi Moti—and thank you for your questions.

In answer to your first question: on Tisha B'Av the entire Jewish people mourn the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash, and with it the persecutions, suffering, pogroms, and catastrophes that followed the destruction and the exile. All the fasts connected to exile were instituted to remember those painful events. We must remember that during the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash about a million Jews were killed, and hundreds of thousands more were murdered in pogroms and forced exile. We have mourned all this through fasts established in memory of the destruction for more than 2,000 years, up to this very day. Therefore, on Tisha B'Av we also mourn the Holocaust, in which 6 million Jews were murdered.

As for your second question: the Rambam explained that days of mourning are meant to remind every generation to return in teshuvah from the sins that brought about the destruction. He wrote: "There are days on which all Israel fast because of the calamities that occurred on them, in order to arouse hearts and open the paths of teshuvah. This will be a remembrance of our evil deeds and the deeds of our ancestors, which were like our deeds now, and which brought upon them and upon us those calamities; by remembering these things, we will return to do good, as it is said (Leviticus 26), 'And they shall confess their iniquity and the iniquity of their fathers...'" (Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Ta'aniyot, ch. 5).

From the end of Passover until Lag BaOmer, 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva died, and so we observe mourning practices throughout this period. Remember: those 24,000 students were the transmitters of the Torah of their generation. The Torah scholars represented and sustained the Torah of the Jewish people so it would not be forgotten. The Torah, as we know, preserved our Jewish identity throughout 2,000 years of exile. Just look at how, after thousands of years, Jews returned from all the Diaspora—Iraq, Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen, Poland, Germany, Russia, and the U.S.—and although they differed in language, appearance, dress, speech, customs, foods, and more, one thing bound every part of our people: the holy Torah. They all came back with the same books of the Tanach, the same tzitzit, the same tefillin, the same Shabbat, the same Passover, and so on. All this was only thanks to keeping the Torah in exile. Without it, our people would have been wiped out and assimilated among the nations.

Torah scholars safeguard the Torah and Jewish identity; they are the tip of the spear of the Jewish people and the glue that has united us as a nation across the generations.

When we lost 24,000 of Rabbi Akiva's students in a single generation, the Jewish people did not only lose a large group of precious Jews—we lost the "officers of Torah" of that generation, the Torah scholars who taught Torah to the entire generation, and in whose merit the Jewish people continued to exist. They constituted the overwhelming majority of the Torah scholars of their time, and after their deaths the memory of Torah stood in danger—putting the identity of the Jewish people at risk of extinction in a harsh exile. In this mourning we also grieve the loss of Torah in Rabbi Akiva's generation—a loss that still echoes to this day. The death of those 24,000 students harmed the Jewish people and deepened the decline of the generations; because of that loss, deeper "gates" in Torah were hidden from us, a state that will be repaired only with the coming of the Mashiach and the Jewish people's return in teshuvah. Only then will all the gates of wisdom be revealed, and the Beit HaMikdash will be rebuilt speedily, with the help of Hashem.

Anyone who keeps the mourning practices during the days of the Omer carries the embers of our people and connects with 2,000 years of shared feeling among all the communities of Israel for the holy Torah, testifying thereby to his faith in Hashem and His Torah—about which Hashem testified: "If not for My covenant day and night, I would not have set the laws of heaven and earth" (Jeremiah 33:25).

We can also notice the profound moral education in the mourning of the Omer for all generations. Where else will you find a nation that mourns for nearly two millennia over Torah scholars it lost? The very act of remembering year after year implants in our hearts the importance of Torah and of the Torah scholars who protect the Jewish people. Just as a modern state designates a Memorial Day for fallen soldiers, so the people of Israel designated days of remembrance and mourning for the "army" of Torah scholars who preserved our Jewish identity. Thanks to them, the Jewish people remembers the centrality of Torah and bears witness before Hashem to our love for Torah and for Torah scholars in every generation.

This awesome episode also carries a very serious moral for all generations, since it is said that the reason for the deaths of Rabbi Akiva's 24,000 students was that they did not show proper honor to one another (Yevamot 62b). Even though they surely did not harm one another or speak lashon hara, they died because they failed to accord the maximum honor required of them, given their level and the importance of their Torah mission to the Jewish people. Only the most refined Torah scholars remained. This reason reminds the entire public how crucial it is to act with respect between one person and another—and especially among Torah scholars. It is an important moral for the ages, from which we must learn even today—to distance ourselves from any form of degrading our fellow, and to love and honor one another as Hashem commanded in His Torah: "Love your neighbor as yourself; I am Hashem" (Leviticus 19:18).

The reason we are obligated to continue mourning every year until the redemption arrives is that the suffering we endured has not disappeared from the Jewish people; it still accompanies us because of our many sins. Our Sages said that "any generation in which the Beit HaMikdash is not rebuilt, it is as if it was destroyed in that generation" (Yerushalmi, Yoma 1:1). We do not yet have the merits to rebuild the Beit HaMikdash.

Until the Mashiach comes and the complete redemption arrives, we must atone for the sin that still accompanies us through the mourning practices. Mourning expresses sorrow over our condition and is a plea to arouse the mercy of Hashem upon our people. Through these practices, further harsh decrees are annulled, and the time of our redemption draws nearer.

Our Sages said (Ta'anit 30b) that whoever mourns for Jerusalem will merit to see its joy—if not in his lifetime, then at the resurrection of the dead. Likewise, we must believe that whoever merited to mourn the Torah scholars we lost will yet see the splendor of Torah and the redemption, when "They shall not hurt nor destroy in all My holy mountain, for the earth shall be filled with knowledge of Hashem—as the waters cover the sea" (Isaiah 11:9).

We must remember that this is a temporary state—mourning that is required of us now because of our spiritual exile. But the prophets of Israel foretold that after the complete redemption, the fast and mourning days will turn into days of festival and joy (Zechariah 8:18–19): "And the word of Hashem of Hosts came to me, saying: Thus says Hashem of Hosts: The fast of the fourth, the fast of the fifth, the fast of the seventh, and the fast of the tenth shall be for the house of Judah joy and gladness and cheerful seasons. Therefore love truth and peace."

In summary, through the mourning:

1. The Rambam explained that days of mourning are a time for doing teshuvah, meant to remind us to turn back from the sins that brought destruction and endangered the Jewish people.

2. You connect yourself to the people of Israel—to an ancient tree with a shared purpose in the world for thousands of years.

3. You atone together with the Jewish people for the sin that still accompanies us, on account of which we have not yet merited redemption.

4. You bear witness to the importance of Torah and Torah scholars in your eyes; in their merit you will connect to and enjoy the radiance of Torah, and you will yet see its splendor.

5. You remember and remind yourself and the people of Israel of the vital duty to honor one another and to be careful with the honor of Torah scholars.

6. You bring the redemption closer, because together with all Israel you arouse heavenly mercy—expressing sorrow over the holiness we have lost and that we still lack—so that the good Hashem will break harsh decrees and bring our righteous Mashiach soon. May it be His will.

Special thanks to Rabbi Yaakov Segal, shlita, for his additions to the essay.

With blessings,

Daniel Bals