Dear Shabbat
Project partners,
I hope you are
all managing in these turbulent times. My heart goes out especially to our
beloved partners who find themselves in the midst of the conflict.
To mark this
year’s Purim – which begins on Wednesday evening – I have put together a
special collection of essays that I have written over the years. Together they
present a multi-faceted exploration of what we celebrate on Purim and why. I
hope you enjoy reading it as you prepare for this powerful day, and that these
ideas elevate your Purim experience.
If you feel
your communities will benefit, please do share the essays with them.
Wishing you a
joyous Purim,
Rabbi Dr Warren
Goldstein
Chief Rabbi of
South Africa
Founder of the
Shabbat Project
Life Matters
On Purim, we
celebrate the defeat of cynicism and mockery. And we embrace – full-heartedly,
uproariously – holiness and meaning, commitment and purpose, direction and
destiny – and the holy Torah that gives us all of these things.
Satire, the use
of humour to ridicule and expose errant human behaviour, is a powerful art
form.
When used
positively, humour can deflate something which is truly unimportant and
trivial, and can create positive change in society. But humour has a harmful
edge, too. It can, in fact, deflate the importance of anything. It can
undermine the importance of sacred things. Marriage, for example. Or faith. Or
even self-esteem. Humour, deployed to destructive ends, can erode our entire
sense of self.
The very first
verse of the Book of Psalms says, “Fortunate is the person who …has not sat in
a gathering of scoffers.” Scoffing and mocking are driven by a cynical outlook
on life. This touches on one of the crucial steps to achieving spiritual and
moral growth as laid out by the great 18th century Italian Kabbalist, Rabbi
Moshe Chaim Luzzatto in his classic work on ethics, The Mesillat Yesharim (Path
of the Just). In the book, the Ramchal, as he is known, sets down a path for
personal growth, structured like the ascending rungs of a ladder. The bottom of
the ladder – the starting point for personal growth – is Torah learning. Torah
learning then leads to the second rung – which is what he terms Zehirut.
Zehirut means living with a heightened awareness of right and wrong, with a
clarity of focus and purpose.
The Ramchal
says one of the most powerful countervailing forces against this heightened awareness is scoffing and
mockery. He says they bring about a state of “spiritual drunkenness”, in which
a person becomes detached from that which is truly important and holy. He
compares it to a shield which has been covered with oil. When arrows are fired
at the shield they are easily deflected to the ground. So too, says the
Ramchal, when we are confronted by the arrows of truth – the ideas and ideals
and cornerstone values that can truly pierce our heart and transform us for the
better – mockery and scoffing can deflect these arrows, undermining our earnest
struggle for meaning in life. The force of cynicism erodes the very things that
anchor our lives, setting us adrift in a sea of existential uncertainty in
which nothing is permanent or solid or sacred.
We are what we
value. The Book of Proverbs (27:21) says, “A person according to their praise”.
Rabbeinu Yona interprets this to mean that you can understand a person and know
who they are by whom and what they admire. Rav Yitzchak Hutner takes this idea
to its logical conclusion, arguing that for radical cynics – those who look at
life coldly and ascribe value to nothing – life is empty. Rav Hunter says that
this insight about the nature of cynicism is, in fact, the gateway to
understanding the essential ideological struggle that plays out on Purim.
On Purim, we
read the Book of Esther, which sets out the events surrounding Haman’s
genocidal plan for the Jewish people, and how it was thwarted through the
efforts of Mordechai and Esther, and through the “hidden Hand” of G-d. Of
course, much like the Torah itself, the Book of Esther is not simply an
historical record; it is in fact pregnant with meaning and spiritual
instruction.
As we know,
Haman, one of the key protagonists of the Megillah, came from the nation of
Amalek, the archetypal enemy of the Jewish people. Rav Hutner cites the midrash
which compares Amalek to the scoffer and the cynic, and that the Amalekite
worldview is crucial to understanding the mechanics of the Purim story.
We see Amalek’s
essential cynical nature in their first attack on the Jewish people as we left
Egypt. The verse “asher karcha baderech” describes how Amalek “chanced upon you
on the way” (Devarim, 25:17) - precisely capturing the cynical Amalekite
worldview that everything happens by chance, that nothing has essential meaning
or significance.
This worldview
is reflected in another interpretation of the Hebrew word karcha. Rashi says it
relates not just to happenstance but to cold indifference (karcha originates
from the root kor, meaning “coldness”). What was the coldness? Rashi, quoting
the Midrash, says that when the Jewish people emerged from Egypt, a nation of
slaves victorious over their superpower oppressors, amidst a swirl of
supernatural “signs and wonders”, no one dared stand in their way. There was an
aura of invincibility about them.
Until Amalek.
Amalek launched one of the first recorded terrorist attacks in history,
attacking the stragglers of the Jewish people, the weaker, more vulnerable
members of the nation who lagged behind – and indeed, they landed a telling
blow. In doing so, Amalek broke the aura around the Jewish people, they “cooled
the waters” for other nations to follow their example.
What gave
Amalek the confidence to attack the Jews when no one else did? It was their
cynicism, their cold, nihilistic perspective on life. Of course, they had heard
of the plagues and all the other miracles, but they simply rejected their
obvious significance. The Amalek outlook is that life is meaningless, that
nothing has purpose, that things – even obviously supernatural things – “just
happen”.
We see this
philosophy of randomness in operation centuries later, when Haman, a direct
descendant of these anarchic desert warriors, opts to cast random lots to
choose a date for destroying the Jewish people, instead of methodical planning
and actively choosing an appropriate date. Indeed, the word “Purim” itself,
which means “lots”, refers to this force of randomness and meaninglessness that
the Jewish people of the time were up against.
The Amalekite
worldview stands in direct contrast to the Torah worldview. Torah is rooted in
the idea of purpose and Divine Providence. G-d created a world that is perfect
by design; it didn’t just happen. Each one of us is in this world because G-d
wants us to be here. He has given each of us a mission to fulfill, and
therefore what we do is inherently meaningful and important. Even the smallest
undertaking, the most perfunctory task, has significance in G-d’s eyes. Nothing
is random. Meaning is everywhere. All of life is sacred.
Kedusha is one
of the Torah’s core concepts. Generally translated as “holiness”, Kedusha
entails designating something for a specific purpose, making something special.
The centrepiece of the Jewish marriage ceremony is called kiddushin, from the
word kedusha, and signifies the activation of a sacred relationship – that this
man and this woman have designated one another as their spouse, to the
exclusion of all others. The concept of kedusha conveys to us that there is something
special in this world, and thus that the world is the very opposite of random.
Random
evolution as a theory posits that the development of life is chaotic and
directionless, a result of random mutations. It presents a picture of a world
that excludes G-d, and claims that the awesome magnificence we see all around
us, in all of its perfection, in all of its balance and beauty, “just
happened”. If this dismal view were true – if life came about just by chance,
and we are all here because of some big accident – then life, and the lives we
lead, are indeed meaningless and inconsequential. That is the ultimate
cynicism.
The Torah, by
contrast, tells us that the world we live in is not a random accumulation of
molecules that came about in an ad hoc and haphazard way. It tells us that
there is structure and intentionality to reality, that an all-knowing,
all-loving Creator created everything with purpose. That there is a grand
design to the world and grand meaning to our existence.
God created
each of us with a purpose. He created us for the purpose of doing good, doing
mitzvot, making the world a better place. Living in accordance with our higher
calling means living a life that is ethical and upright, a life filled with
compassion and kindness, a G-dly life in which everything we do – even the most
mundane undertaking – is infused with sanctity and significance. This is the
life circumscribed by the Torah.
And this is
what we celebrate with such uninhibited joy on Purim. We celebrate inspiration
itself. We celebrate the triumph of excitement over cynicism, passion over
apathy. We celebrate the defeat of nihilism and mockery and we embrace,
full-heartedly, uproariously, holiness
and meaning, commitment and purpose, direction and destiny – and the holy Torah
that gives us all of these things.
Ultimately,
there is nothing more joyful than reaffirming the fact that life – and what we
choose to do with it – matters.
God’s
Fingerprints
Life is
meaningful. The choices we make matter. But on a macro level, as we see from
the Megillah, Hashem is in control of our world. And though His hand is hidden,
his fingerprints are everywhere.
When we read
the Megillah on Purim, one of the key messages is how Hashem’s hand guided the
events that took place. Haman tried to perpetrate genocide on the Jewish
people, and set out an extraordinarily elaborate plan for doing so. He was
influential with the king and managed to get the king’s approval in issuing a
genocidal decree. But, miraculously, that decree was then undone through the
intervention of Mordechai and Esther.
But, what is
not stated throughout the Megillah, though it’s there all the time, is Hashem’s
presence in guiding events. God’s name is not mentioned in the Megillah, yet
His hand is felt throughout this series of events – beginning with the removal
of Vashti as Achashverosh’s queen right at the beginning of the Megillah, to be
replaced by Esther. Esther was already positioned as queen before the decree of
Haman was issued to the kingdom, so she was able to intervene and save the
Jewish people, turning Haman’s plan on its head.
One of the
messages of the Megillah is that we need to see the hidden hand of Hashem.
There are revealed miracles and there are concealed miracles. Purim is all
about the hidden miracles of G-d; how He guides history and shapes world
events, and nothing happens by pure coincidence. Everything has design.
Everything has purpose. Everything is part of Hashem’s plan for the world.
The Gemara
tells us that the name ‘Esther’, like all the main protagonists of the Purim
story, is hinted to in the Torah. Where? In the verse, ‘And on that day, I will
hide My face.’” The word ‘Esther’ means hidden – a reference to Hashem’s hidden
way of relating to His creations. Though God hides himself in this world, His
presence is felt everywhere. And while his name is obscured throughout the
Megillah, His influence is everywhere, orchestrating events from behind the
curtain.
This is also
expressed in another interesting way: on Purim, we do not say Hallel. The
Gemara debates the reason for this. Hallel comprises the great prayers of
thanksgiving and praise we dedicate to our Creator, which we recite on Chanukah
and other Yom Tovim. On these occasions, we express our gratitude to God for
everything He has done for us and for all His great miracles. Why, then, do we omit
Hallel on Purim?
The Gemara
answers that the Megillah is its own form of Hallel. But a debate arises among
the great rabbinic authorities – what happens if you don’t have access to a
Megillah on Purim morning, or you aren’t able to hear the Megillah read? Should
you say Hallel instead? Surely if the Megillah stands in for Hallel, if you
don’t hear the Megillah, you should say Hallel?
This is, in
fact, the opinion of the Meiri – that if you don’t have a Megillah, you must
say Hallel. But the vast majority of rabbinic authorities hold – and we follow
this ruling– that you do not say Hallel, even if you do not have a Megillah.
Rav Yitzchak Hutner explains this is because the Megillah is a fundamentally
different form of Hallel. For revealed miracles, we say a revealed Hallel; for
a hidden miracle like Purim, we say a hidden Hallel. It’s considered
inappropriate to say Hallel for a hidden miracle and, therefore, we refrain
from doing so.
Thus, the
message of the Megillah is reiterated – Hashem is in control of our world, and
we need to trust Him. He has a plan and nothing happens by accident. He is
ever-present, guiding human history, guiding our lives, His hand hidden, his
fingerprints everywhere.
“Purimfest,
1946”
A remarkable –
and chilling – example of Hashem’s hidden hand in history.
Something
unexpected happened at the execution of Julius Streicher, one of the
high-ranking Nazis sentenced to death at the Nuremberg Trials. Moments before
Streicher was hanged in the early hours of October 16th 1946, Newsweek
reported: “He stared at the witnesses facing the gallows and shouted
‘Purimfest, 1946!’”
What did
Streicher mean by this? Why would a condemned Nazi mention Purim in his last
words? Streicher was obviously familiar with Megillat Esther, which tells of
the attempted genocide Haman planned, and how, after his plans were thwarted,
Haman and his ten sons were hanged. Streicher was acutely aware of the irony of
history – that he was one of ten Nazis hanged after being sentenced at the
Nuremberg Trials. (In fact, eleven had been sentenced to death but Goering
committed suicide before his sentence was carried out.) And so in the end ten
were hanged, just like Haman’s ten sons in the Book of Esther. Amazingly,
Streicher saw the historic link between the Nazi genocide and the attempted genocide
of Haman – who, like the Nazis, intended to wipe out every Jew – man, woman and
child.
But there is an
even deeper irony, which Streicher was certainly not aware of. Megillat Esther
lists the names of Haman’s ten sons and according to the Halachah, three of the
letters in these names are written in smaller font than the rest of the text –
a tav, a shin and a zayin – and one letter is written in larger font – a vav.
What do these unusually sized letters signify?
For generations
different explanations have been offered. In the 20th century, however, another
amazing meaning was discovered. The large vav is numerically 6, corresponding
to the sixth millennium; the small tav, shin and zayin are numerically 707;
together, these numbers refers to the 707th year of the sixth millennium – in
other words, the Jewish year 5707, which corresponds to 1946, the year in which
these ten high-ranking Nazis were hanged.
Thus, the
unusually sized letters – vav, tav, shin and zayin – found in the names of Haman’s ten sons,
allude to the year of the execution of these ten Nazi war criminals. What is
also fascinating is that they were sentenced on the 1st of October, in the days
between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur of 1946, and hanged on the 16th of October,
which that year came out on Hoshana Rabbah – which, according to the Zohar, is
the day that judgment of the world is finalised.
Since the Torah
is God’s wisdom for all times, there are often things which cannot be properly
understood until generations later. The differences in the font size of the
letters in the list of Haman’s ten sons was not completely understood in
previous generations. There were other explanations for it, but only in October
1946 did the full meaning become clear as ten Nazis were hanged in the Jewish
year 5707, tav shin zayin.
What does it
all mean? What are we meant to do with this?
The answer
comes from one of the great heroines of Jewish history, Queen Esther. At risk
to her life, with bravery, conviction and loyalty, she intervened to save her
people. Through her bold and dramatic life, Queen Esther showed us that
Hashem’s presence permeates our history. She understood that her fate and
destiny – and that of her people – were in God’s hands.
Esther taught
us that sometimes God interacts with the world through open miracles as we
experienced with the ten plagues and the splitting of the sea during the Exodus
from Egypt. But mostly He does so in a hidden way, as happened during the time
of Purim, when the miraculous salvation of the Jewish people was just as great
as the open miracles, and yet occurred in a way that was hidden from view and
seemingly “natural.”
As we have
mentioned, God’s name is not mentioned throughout the Book of Esther, even as
His presence is everywhere. Through our celebrations on Purim, we attribute all
of the miracles – of that time, and of our time – to God’s direct intervention
in history, albeit hidden behind the machinations of politics and world
affairs.
Queen Esther’s
message is that we must not relate to these events in natural terms alone; we
need to see God’s presence in everything. Esther’s message applies to us as
individuals in our day-to-day lives. And it also applies to Jewish destiny and
world history at large, which powerfully demonstrate God’s involvement in the
affairs of people and the fate of civilizations. The supernatural miracles of
the establishment of the State of Israel and the rebirth of Torah learning
throughout the world following the devastation of the Holocaust are but two
examples showing God’s presence in history.
And still
today, we can discern God’s presence and involvement. Julius Streicher, as he
was being executed, saw with clarity the connection between the Nazi genocide
and the attempted genocide planned by Haman. And now the very country in which
Haman lived and the events of the Book of Esther took place – Persia – is the
same country that today proclaims genocidal aims against the Jewish people. I
am, of course, referring to Iran which continues to pursue a diabolical plan to
develop nuclear weapons with which to carry out these genocidal intentions. It
is an ironic twist of history so eerie and uncanny as to point clearly to God’s
presence.
Our response to
this latest declaration of intent to commit genocide coming from modern-day
Persia must be in the spirit of our great leader and prophetess, Queen Esther.
Let us follow her example. Esther pursued not only a practical plan of action
that was well executed politically and strategically, but also a spiritual
plan, instructing Mordechai to gather the people to repent, pray and fast.
She perceived
God’s presence in political events, and so should we.
Purim: A
Formula for Coping with Uncertainty
We live in a
world filled with uncertainty. Fortunately, the four mitzvot we engage with on
Purim offer us a formula for coping with this reality.
God is
ever-present in our world and in our lives. And yet we live with so much
uncertainty. Political uncertainty, economic uncertainty, social upheaval. Even
as we emerge from a two-year global pandemic, there is the sense that we don’t
quite know what tomorrow will bring.
Purim is all
about coping with uncertainty. In fact, the very word Purim means “lots” –
referring to the lots Haman cast to select the day to carry out his genocidal
plan against the Jewish people.
Sometimes, the
world appears random and indifferent, like a lottery. Purim teaches us that
though God may appear absent from the world, in reality, He is orchestrating
everything. That even when life seems chaotic and uncertain, it is part of a
plan devised by an all-loving Creator who always has our best interests at
heart.
In an uncertain
world, Purim gives us hope and faith and clarity. In fact, the four mitzvot of
Purim constitute the perfect formula for coping with uncertainty. They uplift
us and give us the emotional and spiritual resources we need to deal with
life’s great unknowns and unknowables.
I believe that
to cope in times of uncertainty, we need four things – faith in God; compassion
and kindness towards those in need; supportive, loving relationships; and a
sense of gratitude and appreciation for all of our many blessings. Each mitzvah
of Purim speaks to one of these coping mechanisms.
Firstly, faith.
On Purim there is the mitzvah to hear the Megillah read – at night and in the
morning. The Megillah is all about faith in God – seeing Hashem's presence
everywhere, even when it is not obvious.
In fact,
according to the Talmud, the name Esther, the chief protagonist, is derived
from the word hester, meaning hidden – a hint to God’s hidden presence in the
world. Famously, the Megillah, which relates the miraculous story of how the
Jewish people were saved from annihilation, does not mention Hashem's name once
– yet His presence, His “Guiding Hand”, is felt throughout the story.
Just as God was
with our ancestors in ancient Persia, we too, have faith that God is with us in
times of uncertainty. We need to feel an awareness of Hashem's presence in our
lives, and in the world at large. This deep faith in Hashem isn’t a belief that
things will turn out the way we want them to; it is the comfort we take in
knowing we are in His loving embrace, and that everything, ultimately, is for
the best.
Another mitzvah
of the day is matanot l’evyonim, giving money to those in need – which relates,
of course, to kindness. We need to reach out with compassion and generosity, to
needy individuals and welfare institutions, providing help and support wherever
we can.
Then there’s
mishloach manot – sending gifts to our friends and family. This is about
nurturing our relationships. We need our relationships more than ever – to be
able to rely on each other, to lean on one another. Our relationships feed us,
giving us the strength and emotional wellbeing to withstand uncertain times.
Mishloach manot can fortify our connections to the people around us,
strengthening our support network.
Finally, there
is the seudat Purim, the celebratory meal of Purim. The Purim seudah is, in
many ways, a seudat hodaah, a “feast of gratitude” – for our miraculous
deliverance on Purim, but also for the daily miracles we all experience. This
year, as we emerge from the pandemic, we have a chance to really reflect on all
the blessings we have in our lives, all the many wonderful things we can be
grateful for.
The seudah is
an opportunity to sit back and bask in the blessings Hashem has showered upon us;
to focus not on what we’ve lost and what we are missing, but on what we have.
This, indeed, is the secret to joy – as the mishna in Pirkei Avot puts it: Who
is rich? He who is b’sameach b’chelko – “joyous in his lot”. We find the
greatest joy simply in looking around us and appreciating all that we have.
And so, as the
world begins to move on from this pandemic, we have an opportunity to embrace
Purim in a new way, throwing ourselves with renewed energy into the four
mitzvot of the day – which together, provide a panacea for living in a world of
uncertainty.
Fate versus
Destiny
Esther is
someone who recognised her Divine calling and changed the world. Her life – and
her outlook on life – is an example to us all.
There’s one
all-important message of Purim staring us in the face. But most of us overlook
it for a simple reason: we know the Purim story too well. We all know the happy
ending.
Try to imagine
you’ve never read the Book of Esther before. You find a tattered copy, and
start reading. You learn about Achashverosh, and about Haman’s evil plan, and
then, the text comes to an abrupt stop. The rest of the story is missing. You
have no idea what happens next, or even for how long the story continues.
If you think
about it, in a way, we’re in the same place of limbo. We are all part of a
remarkable drama — the story of humanity and of the Jewish People’s special
role. We know how the story runs to this point, until today, and we have an
acute sense of the pain and suffering of Jewish history and world history as a
whole. But we can’t see the next page.
What Purim
gives us is a unique one-time glimpse into the workings of God through events
that appear, at first glance, to be random and chaotic. It’s not a story of big
open miracles like splitting seas, which are hard for us to imagine, but of
God’s hand in human history, which is hidden but leaves fingerprints
everywhere.
I feel that the
Purim story is screaming out to us, today, with a message that even in these
tumultuous times, God is present, guiding the arc of history. Normally, this
effect is hidden, but in the Megillah we are given a glimpse behind-the-scenes.
There’s a
profound lesson here. At times when things seem so difficult, the Purim story
urges us to take a wider view, and to remember it feels like this because we
are only part-way through the story.
I have no idea
of God’s plan, or how something as distressing as this pandemic we’re only now
emerging from may fit into it. But what
I do know is that faced with the question of how I process our reality, God
wants me to embrace it as a person of “destiny” rather than a person of “fate.”
The person
ruled by “fate” wants to know why bad things happen, and feels helpless to
change their situation or the circumstances of those around them. After all,
“it’s fate” – it’s meant to be. By contrast, the person who thinks in terms of
“destiny” focuses on the best way of reacting to circumstances and doing good
in the eyes of man and God.
The great 20th
century sage, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, most powerfully emphasised this
distinction, stating that Judaism sets us the challenge of escaping the “fate”
mindset. “Man’s task in the world, according to Judaism, is to transform fate
into destiny,” he wrote.
Haman believed
in fate. He chose the date for the Jewish People’s destruction by casting lots
(in Hebrew ‘purim’), the ultimate act of deferring to the forces of fate. Our
heroine Esther, on the other hand, embraced destiny in a historic and
definitive way.
When Mordechai
told her of the dangers facing the Jewish People, he suggested that she had
“come to [her] royal position precisely for a time like this,” and she
immediately rose to the occasion. She knew exactly what she needed to do, and
had faith that, with God’s help, her efforts would be successful. She sprung
into action, risked her life, and saved the Jewish people.
Living in the
midst of chaos, and without knowing how her story would pan out, Esther
embraced her destiny. Today, each and every one of us has a calling, and
Esther’s example urges us to embrace it – and place what Rabbi Soloveitchik
called our “own individual seal” upon life. It reminds us that while there is
much we don’t control, and we live with uncertainty, we do control our actions.
And that counts for everything.
By embracing
destiny over fate, and remembering that we’re only part way through a very long
story which God is guiding, just as He did in Esther’s day, Purim can give us
the boost we need to face all of our challenges.
Our Date with
Destiny
God put us here
for one reason: to fulfill our personal destiny.
There are some
moments that change everything. Picture the scene: every single Jew – man,
woman and child – faces mass extermination.
I am referring not to Nazi Germany in 1939, but to the genocide planned
nearly 2500 years earlier, in ancient Persia.
The Persian
Empire extended across the entire known world and every single Jew was under
the control of the emperor, King Achashverosh.
A decree had been issued for the extermination of every Jew. This was the only time in Jewish history
where there was not a single Jew who was not in danger.
Even in the
dark depths of the Holocaust, there were still Jews in America, Israel, South
Africa, South America, Australia, and elsewhere, who were not in harm’s
way. But at the time of the events
chronicled in the Book of Esther, every single Jew faced extermination. There seemed no way out – except for one
remarkable thing: there was a Jewish queen, Esther, who was married to King
Achashverosh. She could intervene to
save her people.
Mordechai, one
of the great Jewish leaders of that time, sends Esther a message to speak with
the king and try to reverse the decree.
Esther sends a message back to Mordechai saying she cannot intervene
because no one can approach the king without an invitation; anyone who comes to
the king of his own volition is under penalty of death. Mordechai sends back a
message with these immortal words: “…who knows if it was not for this moment
that you have become queen?” When Esther
hears these words she accedes to Mordechai’s plan to approach the king. She tells him to gather all the Jews to pray
for her, and she will do her part to reverse the decree.
Esther goes to
the king and through Divine intervention her life is spared. Then, through a miraculous sequence of
events, the decree is reversed – and we celebrate that great victory and
salvation of the Jewish people on Purim every year.
These words,
“who knows if for this moment you have become queen,” are what changed Esther’s
mind. They constitute the message of Purim and one of the central pillars of Jewish
philosophy – that nothing happens by accident. Everything is part of God’s
plan; everything and everyone has a purpose. Every soul that enters this world
has a God-given mission and all of the circumstances we contend with factor
into that Divine mission.
Sometimes our
Divine mission is dramatic and historic.
Sometimes – more often than not – our Divine mission can be found in the
small, every-day events of our lives; in the seemingly insignificant things we
do and choices we make, which, in God’s eyes, have cosmic meaning.
Let us be
clear, God put us here for one reason: to fulfill our personal destiny. That is
the message of Purim, and of Judaism in general: to live with purpose, and with
a sense of our Divine mission, knowing that everything we think, say and do –
every moment of our lives – has deep significance.
A New Light
Where does our
purpose come from? Where do we look for guidance when it comes to our Divine
mission? What is the light that illuminates our path through life? The Torah.
And on Purim, we embrace it as on no other day. We accept it anew.
On Purim we
remember that our battle with Haman – and his descendants and ancestors – is
really a battle of values.
Rav Zalman
Sorotzkin, one of the great rabbinic leaders of the 20th century, points out in
his commentary Oznayim LaTorah that whenever the nation of Amalek is mentioned,
the word baderech, “on the way” is emphasised.
Amalek came to attack the Jewish People “on the way” – on their way to
receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai.
The motive
behind the attack was clear – Amalek wanted to prevent the Jews from receiving
the Torah, a Divine code of law that illuminates our lives and illuminates our
world. On Purim, the defeat of Haman and the forces of evil brings new light
into the world. In fact, the Maharal of
Prague, one of our great philosophers, called his book about Purim Ohr Chadash,
“New Light”.
As we have
discussed, the verse we recite as part of Havdalah is taken from the end of the
Megillah: “To the Jews there was light and joy and rejoicing and glory.” The
Talmud says that Ora, light, refers to the Torah (our sages explain that each
of the other words refer to aspects of Torah – “joy” to the festivals;
“rejoicing” to brit milah; and “glory” to tefillin).
The Maharal
explains that with the defeat of darkness a light came flooding into the world.
On Purim, a spiritual rejuvenation swept through the Jewish people, bringing
them renewed inspiration – to the extent, says the Talmud, that they
“reaccepted” the Torah – this time out of love rather than awe.
When we stood
at the foot of Mount Sinai, we accepted the Torah because it was such a
powerful experience that we simply could not walk away from. The Divine
revelation every man, woman and child experienced was such that we really had
no choice – it was, as if, says the Talmud, the mountain was held over our
heads.
But on Purim,
we accepted the Torah not because we had to, but because we wanted to.
There was
renewed joy and inspiration – a “New Light” in the world. A light of truth that
reignited our connection to God and His Torah – and the deep fulfillment that
brings.
A light that
inspired us to accept the Torah anew.
The Joy of
Celebration
On Purim we
immerse ourselves in that renewed joy and inspiration – countering coldness
with warmth, and lighting up the dark.
As we have
seen, the verse asher karcha baderech refers to how, by attacking the Jewish
people, Amalek “cooled things down” – they diminished the heat around the
Jewish people.
And on Purim,
the joy and exuberance we feel counters the coldness of Amalek. On Purim, we
heat things up again. Rav Hutner explains that the joy on Purim knows no bounds
because we are actually celebrating joy itself. We celebrate our passion and
excitement for the Torah Hashem has given us and the values we live by. We
celebrate the fact that life is meaningful, that what we do matters. Cynicism
and apathy have no place on Purim. Indifference is nowhere to be found. This is
a day of warmth and passion – the ultimate repudiation of Amalek.
At the
conclusion of every Shabbos, we recite Havdalah – the prayer that celebrates
the concept of holiness or specialness. Through Havdalah, we affirm that time
is special, people are special, things are special. We acknowledge that G-d has invested this world
with significance.
Perhaps this is
why, in Havdalah, we include that verse from the Megillah: laYehudim hayta ora
vesimcha vesasson viy'kar, “To the Jews there was light and joy and celebration
and glory.” When we say Havdalah and
celebrate holiness, we remember the great victory of holiness over desecration;
light over darkness; joy over apathy. We celebrate Y’ka, the “glory” of
existence, and repudiate the belief that life is arbitrary, empty and
meaningless and can be taken away at will.
As we ready
ourselves for Purim, let us prepare to celebrate the values we hold dear. Let
us proclaim to the world the importance of holiness and the values for which we
have fought for generations. Let us rejoice in the sanctity of human existence,
embracing warmth and passion, and shunning coldness and indifference.
May this be a
Purim of light and joy and celebration and glory for us all!
