Chapter 48

During this journey to Tel Aviv I felt unwell. My head ached, and my mind was spinning and exceedingly confused from the magnitude of the burden resting upon me: I had to surmount such a mountain (that is, Shabbos and Lag BaOmer, particularly together with my entire household; and who knew whether I would be able to engage in the service of Hashem without encountering obstacles from them, and so forth). It also appears that my heart already sensed that a bitter and grievous situation would pass over us. Nevertheless, I strengthened myself and transformed the distress and anxieties into hitbodedus and yearnings for the tziyun of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai and for the service of Hashem, and so forth. Even so, my heart was filled with great agitation and anxiety.

My wife was seated with our little son Naftali beside an open window, while the windows on the opposite side were likewise open. I too felt the chill, for it was early, before the sun had warmed; the sun was also covered by clouds, and there was a cold wind. I therefore feared lest this harm the child, especially since he was asleep. I was unable, however, to fulfill my wish and close the windows, because those seated near us did not desire this: they felt unwell and feared that they might vomit. Some of them indeed vomited, and my wife gave them oranges and grapefruits to revive their spirits.

They were even compelled to stop along the road, obtain water, and sprinkle it upon their faces to revive themselves, and so forth. It is self-evident that I could not insist that the windows be closed. In the meantime, this presumably harmed my little son as well. He had already been weak and was still suffering from the severe coughing illness called kakh-hust. His weight had also fallen by a full kilo when he was weighed by the nurses at Tipat Chalav, as compared with the weight recorded for him some weeks earlier. He also had several small sores near his nose, by his nostrils. The nurse at Tipat Chalav applied some ointment to him and asked my wife to take the child to a physician at Hadassah. We did not consent, however, and did not wish to confuse our minds with doctors. We said that Hashem would help. We also thought that this journey would improve him, because the sea air, as well as the air of Tzfas and Meron, was very beneficial for him.

Now, since it was cold and the windows were open, I feared that this would harm the child; yet I could do nothing, and this caused me distress. We passed through this as well and arrived safely in Tel Aviv. I suffered somewhat from the wanderings involved in transferring the children and belongings from this bus and boarding the bus traveling to Haifa. We also had to stand in an orderly queue until we could board, and this too was difficult with children and sacks of belongings, and so forth.

We passed through this as well. I thought to myself that all this toil, exertion, and wandering would be taken into account. We knew from preceding years that a journey to Meron comes with difficulty, great toil, and sweat of the brow; and the more obstacles, wanderings, exertion, and sweat of the brow a person endured, the more sweetness, delight, and vitality he afterward felt from the holy tziyun on holy Lag BaOmer, and so forth.

Blessed be Hashem, we were already traveling by bus to Haifa. The wandering was certainly difficult as well, particularly when sitting for many hours with small children, crowded into a single place: one needed to attend to his needs, another wanted to go out to drink, and so forth. Yet this was not beyond bearing.

Thus, blessed be Hashem, we traveled the road safely and reached Haifa shortly before midday. We alighted at the Egged station. We had thought that we would immediately obtain a bus to Meron, but in vain: we would have to wait more than four hours, until the bus from Tzfas to Meron arrived. We had no money to travel by taxi, and therefore sat and waited with consuming expectation.

I would also have been prepared to travel by an Arab bus, but it was a considerable distance from us. Moreover, I was exceedingly afraid that all of us, the entire family, should travel with Arabs and without any Jews. I spoke with my wife, may she live, suggesting that perhaps we should travel to Tiberias and, in the course of doing so, visit the other holy places. In particular, the bus to Tiberias was ready to depart immediately, and we could travel to Tiberias and from Tiberias to Tzfas. She was adamant, however, that we should not now travel anywhere except specifically to Meron—specifically to the tziyun of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, may his merit shield us, Amen.

I too was more pleased and satisfied to travel immediately to Meron, before the train arrived and there was a great crowd of people seeking to board the bus to Meron.

In particular, I saw that every five minutes a bus arrived in Haifa, bringing still more people who were waiting to travel onward. When the train arrived, the crowding would certainly be great. Who knew how severe the crowding would be from Tiberias to Tzfas and then from Tzfas to Meron? Who knew how late we would reach Meron, and whether we would find even a place upon which to set the soles of our feet, with small children and belongings, and so forth? It was therefore far better for us to travel to Meron immediately, without any delay or postponement, so that we might secure a good place there.

This was especially so because we heard there in Haifa that the newspapers had reported that there would be no hadlakah on the night of Lag BaOmer. Rather, on the day of Lag BaOmer everyone would travel together with the government authorities, and the hadlakah would be held that day. I therefore understood from this that they would not permit people to travel there before the day of Lag BaOmer, as had been the case for several years until then: under no circumstances did they permit travel until the day of Lag BaOmer itself, when the entire public traveled together under heavy guard and remained for only several hours.

I discussed a plan with my wife: now, while it was still early, they might allow us to enter Meron directly from Haifa, and we would be able to be there for the holy Shabbos and the night of Lag BaOmer. If, however, we first went to Tzfas, they might not permit us to travel to Meron, as in the preceding year. In particular, if we arrived late on Friday, it was all the more possible that they would not permit us to travel to Meron, as stated above. Who knew? Perhaps we would be compelled to remain in Tiberias for Shabbos, and then we might be unable to be in Meron even on Lag BaOmer itself. This had occurred in the preceding year, when those who were outside Tzfas on the morning of Lag BaOmer—for example, in Tiberias and Haifa—were compelled to return empty-handed because the government did not permit them to travel to Tzfas.

We therefore agreed that no course remained except to travel directly to Meron now, choose a good place, and spend there the remainder of Thursday, Friday, Shabbos, and the night and day of Lag BaOmer at the holy tziyun. We would also visit the other graves of the tzadikim in Meron and lodge there on the night of the thirty-fourth, when they likewise hold a hadlakah. On the thirty-fourth, which was Monday, we would set out on the return journey, for good life and peace. We would enter Tzfas and visit the graves of the tzadikim; from there we would travel to Tiberias, remain there for a day or more, and visit the graves of the tzadikim there.

Perhaps we would also immerse in the hot springs of Tiberias and in the Kinneret, and visit our relatives in Tzfas and her relatives in Tiberias. From there we would travel to Haifa and likewise spend time visiting Mount Carmel and the Cave of Eliyahu; afterward we would return to Jerusalem. In any event, we would reach Jerusalem again on Thursday, so that we could prepare for the holy Shabbos. This was what we resolved between ourselves—but ‘many are the thoughts in a man’s heart,’ and so forth.