A Practical Tip for Lag BaOmer
a. Write down on a piece of paper what your ultimate life would look like. Describe in detail what your day would look like from morning to night if you were truly living your dream. Write down your Plan A — in every area. Spiritually: mitzvah observance and Torah study. Physically: your home, your car, your capacity for giving tzedakah. And of course, in your personal life: your ideal state of marriage, parenting, career, and the unique mission that God destined for you — and more. The more topics, the more detail, the better. Don’t be shy — no one else is reading this but you.
If you want to be someone who learns Daf Yomi but you’re not managing it at all right now, don’t write down “once a week.” Write “Daf Yomi.” Your personal maximum. If you want to be a woman who finds time to learn and grow but life feels too overwhelming, think for a moment about what you would most love to learn, how much, and how — and put that on paper. If you want more peace in your home, but deep down don’t want to settle for just “no conflict” and truly long for a deep and meaningful connection, write that. If your hope is that your relationship with your children isn’t just trouble-free, but at the highest, most respectful and loving level it could be — write that too. And yes, if you know your family needs a larger home, don’t write “a small extension” or “closing in the balcony.” Write down the real space you actually need.
b. Read over what you wrote. Then read it again — and now ask yourself: Is this really the maximum I could envision? Is this truly what I want my best day to look like within God's possibilities — or just within the limitations of my own imagination? Is this really the ultimate Plan A?
c. Now tear up the paper. And write it again — but this time, write your ultimate life based on God's abilities, not your own. A redemptive Plan A.
That’s it. No special segulah here. No need to light a candle before, during, or after. The goal is to train our mental and emotional “muscle” to first of all recognize what the *maximum* really is. What *ultimate* really means. To not be afraid to admit what life is *supposed* to look like. And second, to train our *emunah* — our belief that God is truly capable of *anything*.
And why write it on paper? Because we need to accustom ourselves to thinking in terms of *miracle*, not just *nature*. Because in the end, both miracles and nature are simply different ways God moves us from place to place. And if there’s an option of taking a fast and comfortable flight, why would we choose the exhausting drive?
Imagine you’re about to meet someone who can grant you all your dreams. Would you know what to ask for? Do you even know what your dreams are? You’d sit down and prepare, wouldn’t you? To figure out what you really need. Well, we meet God every day — whenever we want. We should at least know what to ask for.
And why now? Because somehow I have this feeling that Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai taught the world that living through miracles is almost natural. He made the miraculous feel normal. As my grandfather Zeide Avraham used to say: “Why rely on miracles when you can just say Tehillim?”
Jews know — when there’s a problem, when a miracle is needed — we go to Rabbi Shimon. I don’t think most people can explain why. I don’t think they need to. They’ll just say: “You need a miracle? Go to Rabbi Shimon.”
There are those who, when in need of healing, will consult and go to the best doctor. That’s responsible and according to Torah.
Then there are those who, in addition to the doctor, will give tzedakah, say Tehillim, pray, and ask for a blessing — for the doctor to succeed, for the surgery to go well.
But a Lag BaOmer Jew — after doing all that — will still go to Rabbi Shimon and ask that there be no need for healing at all. That the problem simply vanish.
Like the story with Rabbi Zalman Gurary, who once asked the Rebbe for a blessing that a surgery should go well. The Rebbe answered: “If you’re already asking for a heavenly blessing, ask that you shouldn’t need the surgery at all.”
In other words, if you’re asking — don’t ask based on the maximum *you* can imagine. Ask based on the maximum *God* is capable of.
I know — people are afraid of the disappointment if things don’t work out. That’s why they don’t write these things down to begin with. Maybe they fear the evil eye, who knows. For many, the survival instinct will quickly bring all the emotional “proof” that this is too risky, and how it contradicts values like being content with what you have, or appreciating the small things. If that’s where you are — then don’t write anything yet. No pressure. I don’t have the space here to unpack all that survival thinking right now.
Happy Lag BaOmer,
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Zalman Wishedski