The minute Pesach is over, after the kitchens have been switched back to chametz and the last crumbs from the after-Pesach late-night pizza have been licked clean, the youth in Israel start getting ready for Lag B’Omer.
For Israeli adolescents it’s a very serious deal. Every youth group in every community across the country spends months hauling and dragging lumber and plywood from forests to construction sites.
Splinters are worn as badges of honor.
And he who has the largest wigwam of wood is crowned king.
Think hunter-gatherer meets Home Depot, and you’re getting warmer.
On our yishuv alone there are anywhere from 30-60 bonfires on an average Lag B’Omer night. Walking around the streets Lag B’Omer night is a chavaya—as they say in Israel, a total experience. Bonfire after bonfire light up the night as children and teens, streaked black from ash, roast their food, play guitar and the latest Israeli pop music and just “chill” with their friends until the early hours of the morning.
And the food—it’s a barbeque on steroids. With hotdogs and grilled meats, kabobs and potatoes and of course sticky-sweet roasted marshmallows. If you’re really lucky there will be s’mores.
Lag B’Omer in Israel roughly translates to pure boy scout—Peter Pan and the Lost Boys heaven.
And I absolutely love it.
Despite all the smoke (the best aliyah advice I received my first year was to make sure every single window was shut closed on Lag B’Omer).
Despite that my kids come home at 2.a.m. looking like the chimney sweepers from Mary Poppins (and smelling along the same lines).
I just love the whole whole thing.
I love how the entire community gets together to celebrate. I love watching the kids work so hard as a team for a collective goal. I love watching the trade negotiations for a piece of lumber and better bonfire locations.
I love walking around the yishuv late into the night and talking with different friends I meet along the way, sharing a l’chaim and a roasted yummy something on a stick.
However, this year the winds of change came ablowin’. Literally. As Israel woke up erev Lag B’Omer, it became abundantly clear that the weather did not want to participate in the festivities. Extremely strong winds coupled with excessive dry heat meant a recipe for bonfire disaster.
One by one communities across Israel started doing the unthinkable.
They started canceling the bonfires.
Despite all the excitement, despite years of tradition and months of serious hard work and planning, Israeli parents heard the message loud and clear.
Safety first.
And there was disappointment to say the least. Of both kids and adults.
But then Israeli parents did what they do best They picked themselves up, dusted off their scraped knees and got creative.
Instead of bonfires our yishuv youth groups had hours of water fights in the park. They then dried off and regrouped for backyard barbecues hosted by families in the community that stretched until the early morning.
When my husband and I walked our dog Lag B’Omer night, we passed the homes where our two younger sons were safely barbecuing with their madrichim (counselors) and friends. The aroma of smoked meat and the infectious laughter of the kids permeated the streets.
The entire country – the cities, small towns and yishuvim both religious and secular – rang out with pure celebration from our youth. Though for many, not the way they had originally planned.
Making ‘life- lemonade’ the best way we know how.
We made our way back home winding through the starlit streets, inhaling the thick air fragrant from all the barbecues, and I swear I could catch just the faintest scent of lemon.
By Esti Rosen Snukal
Esti Rosen Snukal made aliyah from Teaneck to Chashmonayim in 2012 with her husband and four sons. She is a volunteer at the Lone Soldier Center in Jerusalem and is a contributor for The Jewish Link, documenting Israeli life as a new olah.
