Sefirat Ha'Omer - Time for Celebration

Introduction:

Many people feel unease with the mourning practices of the Omer, an unease which stems from several factors:

1. In the Torah, the period of the Omer is a joyous time, both because of the gathering of the crops and the preparation for the holiday of Shavuot.
2. Carving three or seven weeks out of our calendar in which weddings are forbidden is extremely difficult, especially since these days usually fall in the spring, the ideal time to get married.
3. Not listening to music seems like a very harsh measure; especially today that music is ubiquitous.
4. Mourning periods for immediate relatives, who are personally known and acutely missed are only seven and thirty days. How can one mourn for thirty-three or forty-nine days for an ancient event, almost 2,000 years old?

The purpose of this article is to argue that the time has come to acknowledge the origin of the practice, and to recognize that the time has come to restore the Omer period to its biblical glory. As we shall see here, the Omer mourning practices started as a commemoration of the tragic failure of the Bar Kokhva revolt and its consequences. For hundreds of years, small numbers of people in scattered communities refrained from getting married during those days, as a sign of sorrow for the death of so many young, and usually unmarried, soldiers. They had to keep the real reason of their mourning in secret, because they were always under the heel of a foreign regime, and even the most tolerant ones among those would not have tolerated military aspirations. A memorial day for fallen soldiers would look very suspicious, and so the narrative was changed and the soldiers became the students of R Akiva, who, as we shall see, was indeed the spiritual leader of the revolt.

In the twelfth century, after the devastating dealt by the crusaders to the Jewish communities of Northern France and Germany, the remnants decided to commemorate those days, from Pesah to the 20^th of Sivan, as a period of mourning. After several years or decades, the period was shortened to end on Shavuot, and at a later point, the idea of a break in the middle was introduced. The arguments for that day of break, aka Lag BaOmer, are very feeble, and are obviously an attempt to justify the much-needed break. For several hundred years after that, the practice of mourning during the Omer was preserved only in Ashkenazi communities, since they were the main victims of the crusades.

It was only the inclusion of the practice in the Shulhan Arukh that made the practice official. It was vehemently objected by Sephardic sages at the time, and was not widely accepted among all Sephardic communities. There could be several reasons for this ruling of R Karo, but I believe that the following two are the most important:

The first is that R Karo, tried, when possible, to include customs and rulings which represented the broader Jewish diaspora. Though he seems to give priority to Sephardic authorities, he lists more Ashkenazi than Sephardic sources in the introduction his monumental work Beth Yosef.

The second reason is that R Yosef Karo was deeply influenced by the Kabbalistic teachings of R Abraham Saba, who was also his wife’s grandfather of. Rabbi Saba was a Castilian kabbalist who after the expulsion wandered from Spain to Portugal and Fez, and finally settled in Adrianopolis, now Edirne, Turkey. R Yosef Karo studied in that city at the time, and it was there that his revealed Halakhic personality merged inextricably with his less known, Kabbalistic one[i].

In R Saba’s book, Tzeror HaMor, we find the following statement:

Is Mourning Still reasonable?

These words of R Saba had no doubt influenced R Karo. They are permeated with an atmosphere of despair and sorrow, associate the period of the Omer with mourning for the destruction of the Temple, and attribute to that period harsh mystical powers which could cause damage and suffering. There is no wonder that R Yosef Karo decided to include the Omer mourning practices in his Shulhan Arukh, and there is no wonder that other Sephardic rabbis, who did not share his Kabbalistic ideology, disagreed with him.

Today, as we assess the history of the Jewish People, we understand that we have come a long way since the desperate rebellion of Bar Kokhva, R Akiva, and their followers against the mighty Roman Empire. We are almost a thousand years away from the crusades which created the practice in Europe, and five hundred years away from the expulsion from Spain which might have added to R Karo’s decision to adopt the practice. Finally, we are only seventy years away from the Holocaust, and there still survivors and their children leaving among us. They remember the Holocaust every minute, but the nation has officially dedicated few days to commemorate that unimaginable atrocity. The State of Israel has declared the 27^th of Nissan as Yom HaShoah VeHaGevurah – the Day of Holocaust and Valor, in commemoration of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising. The Chief Rabbinate of Israel has declared the 10^th of Teveth as Yom HaKaddish HaKelali – the day of global Kaddish, a day on which we recite Kaddish for all those who perished in the Holocaust without leaving relatives or traces, and the ultra-orthodox community, still in denial and shock, refuses to create a special day and rather folds the Holocaust into Tisha BeAv.

If we dedicate one day to commemorate the Holocaust, a palpable event, whose victims and stories we all know personally, how can we justify a mourning period of 49 days, and at a time of the year deemed joyous by the Torah, for soldiers killed in a 2,000-year-old battle? Since the lamentations read on Tisha BeAv refer specifically to R Akiva, his colleagues, and their disciples, who were killed during the Bar Kokhva revolt, this should suffice.

How would this translate to the world of religious practices? Most of the Omer practices are at the personal level: not buying new clothes, not listening to music, and not shaving or taking a haircut. All these you can waive, but of course you will have to defend your appearance if you live in a frum environment.

More complicated is the issue of weddings. Those are public events and the bride and groom would like to take into consideration the practices of their guests. In addition, Kashrut organizations today have become dictatorial and will not allow their supervised caterers to serve at an event held not on an approved date. However, if you are not bound by those restrictions and are interested in having a wedding during the days of the Omer, whether this year or future years, I would be glad to officiate at the wedding, which will not only be blessed, but will send a message to observant Jews that the words they read every Friday night have been fulfilled:

התנערי, מעפר קומי, לבשי בגדי תפארתך

Rise, my nation, rise from the dust and wear your glorious garments.

There was, perhaps, a reason to mourn during the long years of exile, wars, and persecution, but the time has come to limit that mourning to Tisha BeAv, Yom HaShoah, and Yom HaZikaron, and embrace our blessings, independence, prosperity, and security.

Temporary Practice:

R Moshe Bochco (1917-2010), the head of the Etz Chaim Yeshivah in Montreux, Switzerland, wrote in 1997 that the practice of Omer mourning was a temporary one, established as a response to the crusades, and suggested that it should be changed:

In conclusion, R Bochco raises the question why there is no mention of mourning for R’ Akiva’s disciples in the Talmud and says that the practice was limited to the time and place of the Crusades. The answer to R’ Bochco’s question is that R’ Akiva’s 24,000 disciples were, as a matter of fact, soldiers in the rebellion he helped lead against the Romans.

What is the real reason for mourning during the Omer?

The official version is that mourning practices during the Omer were established to commemorate the death of the disciples of R Akiva. R Akiva lived in the second century, and he had 24,000 students, who all perished in a plague during the days of the Omer. According to a much later reading of the Talmudic source, they only died during half the period of the Omer, and for that reason the 33^rd day of the Omer, aka Lag BaOmer, is a day of celebration.

The historical validity of this version is questionable for several reasons:

1. Among the sources which provide this version there are discrepancies regarding the exact number of disciples, ranging from 300 to 48,000.
2. There is no record of the names and activities of said disciples, although according to stories cited in the Talmud, they studied under R Akiva for twenty-four years.
3. Other than one phrase in the Talmud which speaks of their death by plague, there is no mention of the event in the first five hundred years succeeding it. The first mention of mourning practices related to the death of the disciples appears in Geonic literature, some 500 years after the event. It is mentioned as a practice and not a law, and it is clearly stated that there were those who did conduct weddings during that period.
4. A divine intervention of that magnitude has not been recorded since the time of the Bible.
5. The practice is not mentioned by the three pillars on which the Shulhan Arukh relies: R Yitzhak Alfassi, Maimonides, and Rabbenu Asher. R Yosef Karo decided to mention this practice on the Shulhan Arukh, most probably, because of Kabbalistic influence, and indeed leading Sephardic authorities of the time opposed his ruling.
6. The origin of the 33^rd day of the Omer is obscure and the many attempts at explaining its nature contradict each other. There were those who rejected the practice to celebrate and lift the mourning practices on that day or the subsequent days of the Omer.
   

In order to solve the mystery, we have to delve into the life of R Akiva:

R Akiva in the Talmud

According to the Talmud, R Akiva’s wife conditioned their marriage in his commitment to study Torah. He left home immediately after marriage and spent twelve years studying. During these years, he gained so much knowledge and wisdom that he returned home with 12,000 students. As he approached his house he heard an old man talking to his wife, saying: “are you going to forever remain the widow of a living man?” She answered that if it was up to her, he should have spent twelve more years learning. Upon hearing these words, R Akiva turned around and returned to the hall of study, where he spent twelve more years. After the second cycle of learning, when he finally came back home, there were 24,000 students with him.[i]

The story about the death of R Akiva’s disciples is delivered in the Talmud in four stages, by two anonymous authors and two Talmudic sages of two different generations. First, the Talmud speaks of the 12,000 pairs of students who all died at the same time because of lack of mutual respect. That story is presented simply by the words “they said that”, without specifying the source of the information, the dates of the tragedy, or the form of death. Then, an anonymous source comments that it happened between Pesah and Shavuot. Following that statement, R Hama bar Abba, who lived some 250 years after the events, says that they died of a plague, and finally R Nahman, who lived a hundred years after him, adds that the plague was diphtheria.[ii]

Flaws in the Talmudic stories

1. How do you handle so many students? R Hayyim Palachi (1788-1868) comments that it is impossible for one person to have that many students. He also says that according to Jewish law, a teacher cannot have more than 25 students in a class. His conclusion is that R Akiva had assistants for each group of forty students, as well as tutors in charge of groups of one hundred and one thousand.[i] This suggestion is problematic because it assumes the existence of 600 assistants in charge of forty students each, 240 in charge of a hundred students each, and 24 in charge of a thousand. That will bring just the number of assistants to 864, which is again much more than what one person can handle. Additionally, no source before R Palachi, who lived in the 19^th century, mentions that detail. RPalachi also suggests that not all students were with the master simultaneously, but that contradicts the Talmudic version according to which R Akiva arrived at his home with all his disciples in tow.
2. How do you turn around with twelve thousand people? According to the Talmudic story, R Akiva was close enough to hear the conversation of his wife with the old man, while she did not realize that he is around the corner with 12,000 people. After he heard her comment, he turned around and walked away quietly without her noticing the shuffling of 48,000 feet.
3. Who were the students? As mentioned earlier, there isthe problem of the anonymity of said disciples. R Menahem ben Meir (1249-1306) argues that this is not a rarity, since we only know few names of the tens of thousands of sages who lived in Talmudic times. Similarly, he says, we know only few names of the rabbis from the Geonic period.[ii] His suggestion only exacerbates the problem, because we do have detailed information of the Geonic period, and there is no reason why a similar record will be preserved of the multitudes of Talmudic sages.
4. If the students of R Akiva indeed died of a known plague, why was the information delivered in four segments? The final piece of the puzzle, the nature of the disease, should not have come from a who lived almost 400 years after the event.

The Secret Life of R Akiva

Besides being a great scholar, R Akiva was a freedom fighter. He believed that Shimon Bar Kosba was the Messiah and renamed him Bar Kokhva – the Son of the Star. In this symbolic act he invoked a verse from Balaam’s prophecy, which speaks of a star rising from Jacob and smiting the nations.[i]

Not all of R Akiva’s colleagues agreed with him, as the following exchange shows:[ii]

רבי עקיבה, כד הוה חמי בר כוזבה, הוה אמר: דין הוא מלכא משיחא! אמר ליה רבי יוחנן בן תורתא: עקיבה! יעלו עשבים בלחייך ועדיין בן דוד לא יבא!

Upon seeing Bar Kosba, R Akiva would say: this is the king, the Messiah!

R Yohana ben Toratha told him: Akiva! Grass will grow through your cheeks [after your burial] and Messiah, the son of David will not have come yet!

R Akiva traveled wide and far through the Roman Empire, raising funds and recruiting soldiers for the Great War. That war came to be known as the Bar Kokhva revolt, and it was the last attempt by Jews to wage war against another nation. The war ended with mass executions of the rebellion leaders by the Romans, and a devastating defeat to the Jewish freedom fighters. Among those executed were R Akiva and other sages, and the crushing of the rebellion marked the end of Jewish independent existence in Israel for many centuries.

It was only in Babylonia, hundreds of years after the rebellion, that people were able to talk more openly about the terrible events, and even that was done with great caution, as to not create suspicions that they are seeking independence[iii]. The practice of mourning during the Omer was born in Babylonia, as a commemoration of the bar Kokhva revolt and its many casualties. It was shrouded with mystery, because there was a reasonable fear that the government would accuse the Jews of nurturing messianic hopes for independence.

The story of the death of the “disciples” who were in fact warriors, is presented in the Talmud in four stages, as an attempt to conceal the fact that those students of R Akiva were casualties of war. In the Talmudic story quoted above we find two anonymous sources, which might be rumors carried from the time of the war itself. The first source speaks about their death, and the second mentions that they died in the spring, the ideal time for waging wars. Then RHama bar Abba, who lived hundreds of years later, tries to obscure the connection to the revolt by saying that they died a strange, or unusual death. His words could still be interpreted as alluding to death in the battlefield, so R Nahman, who lived a hundred years later and who had close relationships with the government, identifies that strange death as diphtheria. It is probable that R Nahman, because of his political ties, was more sensitive to the possible problems of discussing the revolt, and he indeed succeeded in his mission to obfuscate the historical truth.

The Disciples: Where did they all come from?

Recruiting thousands of soldiers shortly after the Great Revolt, which left survivors in Israel dispirited and reeling in agony, was not an easy task. R Akiva decided to look for followers elsewhere, and so he traveled the Roman Empire wide and far, raising funds and recruiting volunteers to fight against the Romans. Many of these soldiers were converts, and some sources suggest that R Akiva himself was a convert or a descendant of converts. It is very probable that as a descendant of converts, R Akiva was not inhibited by the same fear of the Romans as were his colleagues, who were Jews from birth.

R Akiva’s efforts in converting people must have been very successful since historians estimate that during the first century of the Common Era, Jews formed between 2-10 percent of the world’s population, mainly as a result of mass defection of Greeks and Romans from their religion to Judaism. This is intriguing, since even if we assume that R Akiva did not work alone and there were other rabbis who helped him in his conversion campaign, how were they able to achieve such massive following?

There are several contradicting sources regarding R Akiva’s genealogy, but they all refer to some non-Jewish element in his past. R Mordechai Fogelman summarizes the problem:

According to Maimonides it was the father of R Akiva, Joseph, who was a convert. The Talmud and the Midrash, however, make no such mention, so maybe Maimonides had a source we are unaware of. R Avraham Zakkut mentions the tradition in a way that might suggest that R Akiva himself was a convert, and adds that he was a descendant of Sisera, the Biblical Canaanite general. Maimonides also counts R Akiva among the four scholars he names “community of converts”[i].

R Ashtori Ha-Farhi, who moved from Provence to Israel in the 13^th century, toured Israel and studied its history, geography, and nature. He writes the following about the burial sites in Tiberias:

In Tiberias also slumber a great number of the righteous, the pious, and the true converts, among them R Akiva and his 24,000 disciples.[ii]

It seems that R Ha-Farhi had a tradition that R Akiva and all of his disciples were converts.

There is also a reference to R Akiva’s origin in the ruling of the Chief Rabbinate of Jerusalem. The ruling states that a convert can issue a halakhic decision on certain issues, as we see that R Akiva, who was a convert, issued many such decisions[iii]. The publisher of the text does remark that the tradition points to R Akiva’s father as the convert.

While R Akiva’s origin is shrouded in mystery, he himself attests that he traveled throughout the Roman Empire: “when I visited Arabia… Gallia (Gaul)… Africa.”[iv] R Akiva also visited the island colonies of Greece and Rome, known in rabbinic literature as the “Cities of the Sea.”

One specific trip to the island colonies is of extreme importance because it sheds light on R Akiva’s conversion tactics. This trip is reported by a later traveler by the name of Ben Yasian, who was surprised to find a convert who married the wife of his half-brother. Ben Yasian asked the convert who gave him permission to do so, and the convert answered: “R Akiva was sitting on this very bench when he said that a convert is allowed to marry his half-brother’s sister.” [v]

Reading this story, one wonders whether R Akiva issued lenient rulings to encourage non-Jews to convert to Judaism. I believe that the answer is positive, and it is corroborated by two opposing Halakhic rulings in which R Akiva takes an extreme position. On one hand, he says that if a non-Jewish man and a Jewish woman had a child together that child is a mamzer, meaning that he cannot marry other Jews[vi], and on the other hand he says that a Cohen can marry a convert.[vii]

R Akiva wanted to prevent intermarriage and encourage conversion, and so he excluded the product of intermarriage from the Jewish world, but allowed a convert woman to marry anyone, including a Cohen.

This was not the only “discount” R Akiva made in the field of conversion. His most important contribution, which also explains how he recruited so many followers and caused the population explosion mentioned earlier, is reported in the Talmud in a laconic, ten-word long statement:

One who converted among the non-Jews [with no witness] and transgressed Shabbat is punishable.[viii]

R Akiva did not require a Beth Din to make a conversion valid, and one’s statement that he converted to Judaism was accepted. Circumcision if needed, would be performed then and not as prerequisite for the conversion. In that manner, R Akiva traveled from one Roman colony to another, encouraged his listeners to join the Jewish religion and the war against the Romans, and then sent them away to recruit and convert more people without a need for Beth Din.

This activity of R Akiva is attested to in several places. R Yehudah, one of R Akiva’s second generation of disciples, speaks of: “my friend Minyamin, an Egyptian convert and one of R Akiva’s disciples.”[ix]

In another intriguing story in the Talmud, R Akiva and other scholars visit the elderly R Dossa ben Harkinas. When R Dossa finds out that one of his visitors is R Akiva, he volunteers a piece of information. He says that the prophet Haggai declared that one can accept converts from the nations of Kardou and Tarmod.[x]

Obviously, R Dossa knew of R Akiva’s efforts, as well as of the opposition of some of his colleagues. He voiced his support for R Akiva’s conversion campaign by saying that he can accept converts even from these two nations, whose status was questionable because some claimed that they were descendants of Canaanite “forbidden” tribes.

But R Akiva did more than just recruiting followers, he raised funds as well. The Talmud says that R Akiva was extremely wealthy, and mentions six sources for that wealth.[xi] Two of them are of special interest to us. One is the story of Keti’a bar Shalom, a Roman senator who defended the Jews and was executed by the emperor.[xii] Keti’a was miraculously circumcised a moment before his death, and when he was about to die, as a Jew, he bequeathed his wealth to R Akiva and his friends.

The other story is about the wife of the Roman provincial governor of Judea, Quintus Tineius Rufus, known in Jewish sources as Wicked Turnusrufus. Rufus’s wife wanted to tempt R Akiva by exposing her leg to him, but he responded, among other acts, by laughing. When asked why he did that, the rabbi answered that he envisioned, by divine inspiration, that she will convert to Judaism and marry him, which eventually happened.[xiii]

We learn from these two stories that R Akiva was very active among Roman nobility, and that he might have deliberately targeted powerful Romans in order to win their support and their financial reserves. Now that we have clarified the role of R Akiva as a leading force in the preparations for Bar Kokhva’s revolt and the conversion campaign, let us return to the question of the size of his army.

How Many Soldiers?

The Talmud reports, according to one version that R Akiva had 24,000 disciples, and according to another, 48,000. It is important to know that the Talmud, and the Midrash, cannot be taken literally when dealing with historical facts, numbers, and quantities. That understanding has implications on major issues in Jewish life and Halakha, among them such disparate questions as Zionism and reproductive rights, to mention but two. We should therefore assume that Even though R Akiva has created a massive conversion movement overseas and in Israel, he probably had only a few thousands of warriors during the revolt, and not 24,000 or more.

Here are some examples of Talmudic and Midrashic exaggerations and the attitude of later commentators towards them:

Already the rabbis of the Talmud acknowledged the fact that some statements in the Mishna are exaggerated. Among the examples cited for this practice we can find the following[i]:

1. On top of the altar there was a place for gathering the ashes of the sacrifices, and it would sometimes contain close to 2,500 cubic ft.
2. The lamb used for the daily sacrifice was given water in a golden goblet.
3. 300 men were needed to wash the curtain hanging in the Temple.
4. One of the musical instruments in the Temple could produce 1,000 different voices[ii].

The Talmudic scholar R Amme comments that exaggeration is a common practice not only for the sages but for the Torah and the prophets as well:[iii]

“The Torah, the prophets, and the scholars, all use imaginary terms.”

Rashi explains that:

“Imaginary language is the way a simple person speaks. He says something which is not [true], but he does not mean to lie, rather he does not pay close attention to what he says.”[iv]

R Yom Tov Al-Sevilli, the Ritv”a, writes in 14^th century Spain that:[v]

“It is common for people to exaggerate, for example to say that something numbers in the hundreds or thousands, and everyone knows that he is exaggerating.”

In 19^th century Lithuania, R Shmuel Strasson writes that the number twelve is commonly used in the Talmud and Midrash to mark an exaggerated statement[vi]. His comment is of interest to our discussion, since the number of the disciples is referred to in dozens of thousands. According to R Strasson, that is a proof that the number is exaggerated. [vii]

Since it is very common for Talmudic and Midrashic sources to exaggerate, even when talking of historical events, and since the number 12 and its multiples are a favorite tool in cases of exaggeration we can conclude that R Akiva had much less than 24 or 48 thousand followers.

The historical and textual analysis was presented here to support the argument at the opening of this article:

The time has come to recognize the chain of events which brought to the creation of the Omer practices as we know them today, and to acknowledge that we are on the path to redemption. The only days during the Omer in which one should practice mourning are the 27^th of Nisan and the 4^th of Iyar, which commemorate the Holocaust and the fallen soldiers of Israel.

Halakhic arguments for ceasing to mourn:

There are four major concepts in the Omer mourning practices today:

1. Not having weddings.
2. Not listening to music.
3. Not having a haircut.
4. Not shaving.

We could rely on the following concepts to call for ceasing to mourn, even if there was originally a justified cause for mourning:

1. הלכה כדברי המקל באבל – when it comes to mourning, one should always follow the most lenient opinion. The logic of this rule is that one cannot be forced to mourn. The laws of mourning, as we shall see in future discussions, are not meant to obligate someone to be sad but rather to facilitate the process of grieving and expressing sadness.
2. אבלות ישנה – Halakha dictates that expressions of grief should be lessened when dealing with “old mourning”. The term refers to a case where one heard of his loss several months or a year after the event. It should definitely apply to events which allegedly took place in 132-135 CE. Even if there were 24,000 disciples, and the whole nation would sit Shiva for each and every one of them, it would amount to a mourning period of 460 years, ending on the year 595 CE.
3. אין מתקשין על המת יותר מדי – one is not supposed to mourn for more than the prescribed periods which are three and seven days, a month, and a year. This is not to say that one should not feel grief but that external expressions, especially public ones, are limited in time.
4. The practice was a spontaneous decision of some communities following the bar Kokhva revolt. It was almost completely forgotten but then revived after the Crusades which took place roughly at the same time of year. It was practiced only in parts of Europe but then adopted by some kabbalists who eventually influenced R Yosef[1].

With these concepts and insights in mind, let us examine the aforementioned practices:

Weddings: The prohibition against having weddings has probably originated from a sense of loss of young lives, the lives of the soldiers of R Akiva and bar Kokhva. While it is understood that people felt that way immediately following the war, there is no justification to continue this practice indeterminably, especially since it halts the development of new young families. That indeed was the practice of many rabbis who limited the prohibition only to a second wedding of one who already has children. Among them we count the Radvaz[2] who rules that it is allowed to have a wedding during the whole Omer period for those who were never married, or were married before but have no children.

Music: The prohibition of listening to music is a secondary one, since it stems from the ban on weddings. Before the modern age weddings were among the few occasions in which most people, especially Jews, were able to listen to music. Naturally, people associated music with weddings and declared it forbidden. Today, we distinguish between recorded and live music. There is no doubt that one can listen to recorded music. Going to a concert depends on the type of music and individual feeling, even in periods of commonly prescribed mourning for relatives. If one feels that going to a concert will make him extremely happy, and also feel guilty for being that joyous, one should not go, but otherwise there is no problem.

Haircuts: Letting one’s hair grow wild is a staple of mourning in many cultures and it is not unique to Judaism. The rabbis determined that a mourner should not have a haircut for thirty days, because this is the average time span in which one obtains the desired unkempt look, which shows that one is mourning. The practice in many communities was to have a haircut, during the Omer, in honor of Shabbat. The argument was that the practice of mourning during the Omer was not mentioned the Talmud or in any of the major codes of Halakah, and it therefore cannot override the honor we must show Shabbat.

Shaving: Shaving is not mentioned at all among the practices of Omer and its inclusion today stems from a linguistic error. Until recently most observant Jews did not shave regularly because there was no kosher substitute for razors. When authors of books of Halakha talk about shaving they are referring to beard trimming and not to we call today shaving.[3] An interesting proof to that is found in the writings of Maharil: “…R Stein of Oppenheim used to shave his beard in hiding before going to see his master, R Segal. R Stein used to say that he knows that his master would not be able to notice that he shaved.”

If we are dealing with shaving as we know it, the rabbi would have known right away that his disciple disobeyed him (he was the one who instituted the practice of not shaving). It is obvious that shaving in Halakhic writings of the period of the establishment of the practice means trimming the beard. For someone who shaves every day, skipping even one day causes a sense of unease, especially if his line of work involves personal interaction. The suffering caused by not shaving is disproportional to the status of the Omer mourning as ancient and unsubstantiated and one therefore is allowed to shave regularly.[4]

Conclusion: Even without changing the general status of the Omer as it is today, weddings should be allowed for first marriage or for those who do not have children yet. Recorded music is allowed without restrictions, and live music is allowed except for those who feel that the joy they derive from it is not appropriate for the Omer. One can have a haircut in honor of Shabbat, Rosh Hodesh, Yom HaAtzmaut, Bar Mitzvah, or Berit Milah, and one who shaves daily can continue doing so. ^[5]