Be happy, it’s Adar! Thus we are charged to greet each other as we turn the Hebrew calendar and enter the month of Adar, during which we celebrate Purim.
But, you may ask, how, or why, are we supposed to be happy when so much is so painful? This greeting is ancient, found in the Babylonian Talmud, where we read, “when the month of Adar begins, one increases rejoicing.” Throughout the 1500 years since, there have definitely been time periods in Jewish history when rejoicing didn’t come easily. Yet the tradition persists.
Three of the four mitzvot (commandments) for Purim derive from a single verse in Chapter 9 of the Book of Esther: giving food gifts to friends (Mishloach manot), giving tzedakah to those in need (Matanot l’evyonim), and lastly, the precursor of the Talmudic passage, holding a festive meal (Seudat Purim). The fourth mitzvah is to read the story of Esther.
Many sages have grappled with the importance of being joyful even when we are grieving or in spiritual pain. Rabbi Kalonymous Kalman Shapira, writing from the Warsaw Ghetto, enjoined those starving around him that “even if [one] is low and his heart is broken, his mind and all of his spirit trampled, it is a statute that he must, at the very least, bring a spark of happiness to his heart.” The 20th-century Israeli rabbi Shimon Gershon Rosenberg wrote that the point “is to reach my truth, my freedom and to discover that that freedom and that spontaneity bring me to the Holy One, blessed be He.”
Perhaps Shapira and Rosenberg are saying that finding even a spark of joy, of true joy, when times are tough requires us to be fully honest with ourselves, and that that honesty can set us free and connect us more deeply to each other and to the Holy One of Blessing.
Our struggle with joy becomes even more poignant when we read the rest of Chapter 9 in the Book of Esther, for just six verses and one day before the Jews rejoice, “They disposed of their enemies, killing seventy-five thousand of their foes.” Spared from their own destruction, the reprieved Jews of Shushan themselves committed genocide.
In today’s world, when close to 50,000 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza; when individuals and organizations in the Jewish community are supporting the potential deportation of Mahmoud Khalil, a law-abiding Palestinian with a green card who protested the Gaza war, because of his words and his opinions; when many in our community are supporting policies that are designed to take away freedoms of marginalized populations other than ourselves, it behooves us to remember this verse in the Bible. We are not better than everyone else. We, too, are capable of inflicting great harm.
Because of the great evil that was done to the Jewish community less than 100 years ago during the Holocaust and the trauma that remains with us, it is easy for us to see ourselves and to experience life mainly as victims. And yes, sometimes we are victims, a recent example close to home being the swastika that appeared on the wall of the community pool, a five-minute walk from my home. But we know that the victims of abuse often become abusers themselves. Remaining a victim in our hearts leads us down that pathway—it takes courage to become whole and upright. Perhaps that is the hidden message in Purim—the part of the story we don’t want to hear holds the key to finding joy. We must acknowledge this truth of who we have been in the past and who we have the capacity to be again, and to reject that way of being in the world. We cannot stop hatred from existing and being expressed, but we can consider how we respond, which involves taking a hard look at ourselves.
Today, many thoughtful people are grappling with the hateful message of Chapter 9. If you want a light-hearted yet serious exploration of this verse, check out this YouTube video. If you want to make a deep dive, you can explore The Shalom Center’s CHAPTER 9 PROJECT: Envisioning Wholeness and Peace: New Endings for Purim’s Book of Esther. These are just two of many possible resources. However you engage, which is what we, Yisrael – G?d Wrestlers, do, for wrestling is embedded in our tradition, remember that although difficult, wrestling with difficult truths can lead us to clarity and insight, and ultimately joy.
If we are joyful at the price of others’ pain, our joy is not real. Real joy comes with feeling the pain of our own truths and the pain of others, acknowledging that pain, and then turning to others in love and caring, connecting with them and feeling the spark within, that spark that connects us to all that is greater than who we are.
We heard recently about efforts to meet the needs of those who are food insecure at the Southborugh Free Fridge and the needs of recent immigrants through Jewish Family Services. I invite you to observe the mitzvah of Matanot l’evyonim – gifts to those in need, and to give through one of these organizations or another close to your heart. Turn to those in need and let yourself feel the joy of Adar. And then continue to fight against injustice in all its forms, even when we see it within our own Jewish community.
Chag Purim Sameach – Happy Purim!
Rabbi Katy
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