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Little Yosef

Yosef hated being laughed at, especially by his older brother Daniel. So what if he was only thirteen. He could fight as well as any of them in Bar Kochba's army. "Hey Yosef!" Shimon called to him, "I thought I told you to go home. Don't you know what it takes to be in Bar Kochba's army?"

Yosef knew exactly what it takes. He heard about the men on horseback who had to pull a tree out by its roots while galloping by. He couldn't do that, but maybe there was still something he could do to help Bar Kochba.

There he was! Bar Kochba himself! Yosef blushed, imagining that Bar Kochba was staring at him. "And who might you be?" Bar Kochba was staring at him. Yosef stared back and said in the deepest voice he could find: "I want to be in your army. I want to throw the Romans out of the country." Bar Kochba laughed. "You are brave. Maybe I can make a fighter out of you after all."

That was three years ago. Yosef had spent two years carrying Bar Kochba's weapons before he was finally allowed to fight, but soon everyone knew about Yosef HaKatan, Little Yosef. "Little Yosef does big things," Bar Kochba used to laugh. Now the war was over. Bar Kochba was dead. Daniel was dead. Beitar had fallen. Now Julius Severus, the great Roman general, wanted to interview Yosef and hear his own story of the battle.

The general was shocked to see that Yosef was only a boy. "This is the best soldier you could find among the survivors? You mean to say that I nearly lost to a child?" Yosef looked at him and remembered how Bar Kochba spoke to him just three years ago. "General" he stammered, "according to your custom, you will write to the Emperor, telling him that the war is over and that you and your troops are well. I may be a child but I know that is a lie. The war may be over, but neither you nor your troops are well."

The general stared at him. "Do you know who I am?" he asked. "Julius Severus," Yosef answered. "And you dare speak to me like this?" Yosef looked at him for a second and gathered his courage. "I lost my family, I lost my friends, I lost my country. What more can you take from me?" Julius Severus smiled. "Thank you," he said. "Now I know why I almost lost to a child." That night, in his letter to the Emperor, Julius Severus crossed out the line saying that he and his troops were well. Yosef had taught him a lesson.

The Archbishop and the Bonfire

It happened a long time ago in Spain, during the time of the Inquisition. Although Jews were forbidden to keep their religion, many continued to secretly observe whatever customs they could. Because it was so difficult to keep Pesach, some Jews made an extra effort to observe Lag B'omer. Even if they were caught, they could say that were just going on a family picnic. That's just what the d'Aguillar family did.

That day, at sunset, Pedro d'Aguillar and his family loaded up the donkey with wood and an enormous picnic supper and set out to a quiet spot in the forest. They even took little Juanita with this time - she was only eight years old and did not need to risk her life to celebrate Lag B'Omer. But she had cried. "Take me with to Lag B'omer!" until her parents agreed to bring her along. They didn't realize that some of the servants were suspicious, especially Pepe, a crafty boy who had overheard Juanita's crying: "If the d'Aguillars are arrested," he thought, "maybe the Inquisition will reward me and give me all their property." Pepe often informed Archbishop Ramirez about the d'Aguillar's strange behavior.

This time, though, Archbishop Ramirez was upset that Pepe came to bother him in the middle of dinner. He had heard of Pesach, he had heard of Yom Kippur, but he had never heard of Lag B'omer. Still, he thought he should check it out for himself.

It was pitch black in the forest and the d'Aguillars were enjoying their supper around the Lag B'omer bonfire when suddenly they heard the sound of horses in the distance! "Quiet everyone," Pedro d'Aguillar ordered. "Miguel, go and see who's coming." But before his son could go, Archbishop Ramirez appeared, along with Pepe and soldiers armed with muskets. "Buenos Noches," began the Archbishop. "I hear you are having a little party, a Lag B'omer party, as a matter of fact."

Pedro began to stammer an answer: "Buenos Noches, Archbishop Ramirez..." but before he could get any further, Juanita ran over to the Archbishop. "Buenos Noches, Senor Archbishop. You always talk so funny, you make me laugh. What kind of party did you say we were having, Gagalomer?" Pedro's eyes lit up. Juanita had given him an idea.

"That's right, Archbishop, an Omer party. When we were Jews, the Omer was a sad time. For forty-nine days, we would not sing or dance or even take a haircut. We've been Christians for almost fifteen years now, and I thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the Omer happily, with a picnic." "How wonderful," the archbishop smiled. "Do you mind if I join you?"