Then, these days were plunged into mourning, as the 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva died during this period. To comprehend the enormity of the tragedy, one must remember the history of that era. The Roman Empire had destroyed the Second Temple and held the remnants of the nation in a cruel and iron grip.

Rabbi Akiva was the greatest sage of his time, the pillar of the Oral Law, whose teaching was keeping the Torah alive among the Jewish people. It should be recalled that in his later years, the Romans forbade the teaching of the Oral Law, and Rabbi Akiva was tortured to death for defying their decree. The loss of his students, therefore, quite apart from their great number, was a calamity of historic proportions, virtually denuding the Jewish people of hope for its spiritual future.

The sin of the disciples, the Talmud teaches, was that they did not show sufficient honor to one another (Yevamos 62b). After the tragedy, mindful of what had happened before, Rabbi Akiva admonished his new students, "My sons, the earlier ones died because they begrudged one another. Be diligent not to do as they did." The new students -- there were only five -- stood fast and filled the entire world with Torah (Midrash - Genesis Rabbah 61:3).

Why was that sin punished so dramatically? Surely their shortcoming existed for a long time - why did the punishment come just during the days of counting the Omer?

At the outset, it should be clear that great men are judged by strict standards, and Rabbi Akiva's students were surely great. Their failure to show proper respect for one another was not in the least comparable to the sort of friction and acrimony that permeates many a contemporary academic precinct. But whatever there was should not have existed among such scholars and in the study hall of such a Torah giant. Rabbi Akiva was the epitome of loving unity among Jews. It was he who said, "Love your fellow as yourself, that is the main principle of the Torah; the rest is commentary" (Midrash - Toras Kohanim 11:12).

In the slightly different formulation of Hillel the Elder, of whose academy Rabbi Akiva was a student, "What is hateful to you, do not do to your comrade. This is the entire Torah; the rest is commentary" (Talmud - Shabbos 31a)...

It is instructive that in giving the numbers of Rabbi Akiva's students, the Talmud does not say there were 24,000. It says he had "12,000 pairs of students." The obvious connotation is that Torah study is most successful with a partner, so that, through the natural process of debate and challenge, the partners can refine their arguments and arrive at truth.

There is an additional connotation. Rabbi Akiva, the exemplar of love for others, wanted his students to think of themselves as partners, rather than as individuals.

This attitude was necessary in order for the Jewish people to acquire the Torah. In stating that Israel encamped at Mount Sinai, the Torah emphasizes that they were unified: "and Israel [in the singular] encamped there opposite the mountain (Exodus 19:2). Quoting the Midrash, Rashi comments: "[They encamped] as one person, with one heart. But all the other encampments were with complaints and argumentation."

The days of the Omer are a time when people are charged to strive for improvement as individuals, but at the same time they must strive for unity. The crescendo of argumentation in a crowded study hall is a good example of how these two seemingly contradictory impulses can be combined. The Talmud interprets the phrase "enemies in the gate" (Psalms 127:5) as referring to people studying Torah together. "Even a father and a son or a teacher and his student who are studying Torah together in one gate, [at first] become enemies of one another, but they do not move from there until they become devoted friends" (Kiddushin 30b).

When people are searching for the truth, they will dispute one another strenuously, but when they arrive at a correct conclusion, they will embrace and kiss figuratively, if not literally, the intellectual opponents who helped them find it. The enmity was not real; the love was.

Such would have been the ideal state of Rabbi Akiva's study hall: fierce argumentation leading to the truth and the shared joy and love that flows from it. This requires a balance between the striving of the individual and his responsibility to the community. The balance was lacking. His students waged the battle for personal growth, but they begrudged one another proper credit for their accomplishments, and that led them not to honor one another as they should have...

It is not unreasonable for the Torah to demand that one not be jealous of success that is not a threat to anyone. It was there that Rabbi Akiva's students fell short. Such conduct is especially grievous during the days of the Omer, the days when Jews historically strive for self-improvement while strengthening the bonds of unity and fellowship.

Maimonides teaches that a sin during the Ten Days of Repentance, between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, is worse than a sin at any other time, because those are the days when God longs for our repentance so that He can forgive our sins. At such a time, indifference to sin is especially intolerable. In this sense, the failure of Rabbi Akiva's students was much more glaring than it was during the rest of the year. The days of the Omer are a time to combine individual growth with concern for others, which is why their punishment came just during the Omer.