Archive for Purim

Purim: Reading and Reliving

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Dear Friends:


Tomorrow night is Purim, with its costumes, noisemakers, feasting and merriment, at the heart of which is the reading of the megillah, or scroll containing the book of Esther. We learn in the Mishnah, the early part of the Talmud, that one must read the book of Esther from a scroll, and in fact, one is not permitted to declaim it from memory, even if one had memorized the whole thing. (Mishnah Megillah 2:1- see text here.)

Now, that’s interesting, especially when one considers that just a month from now, we’ll sit down at a Passover table to tell the story of the Exodus, but we are not commanded to read a text, per se- just to tell the story and explain the central symbols of the holiday. The Passover text- the haggadah- is a tool, not the central idea. Yet on Purim, a lesser holiday, we have to tell the story by reading it out loud, from the written form, just as written.

Of course, the story of Mordecai and Esther is not more important in Jewish history than the story of the Exodus, but we should note that the story of Purim itself is told through texts- letters, laws, scrolls- from the decrees of Achashverosh and Haman, to the counter-decree which saved the Jews, to the command of Mordecai to remember the story itself, which was propagated far and wide by means of written communication:

“And Mordecai wrote these things, and sent letters unto all the Jews that were in all the provinces of the king Ahasuerus, both nigh and far, to enjoin them that they should keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar . . . . .”(Es. 9:20-21, old JPS translation.)

Now we can see a similarity between Purim and Passover: on Passover, at theseder, we re-create the experience of slavery by eating matzah and maror, and then celebrating our freedom with the feast, wine, and grateful prayers. On Purim, we re-create the experience of the Jews in Persia by hearing the story declaimed from a scroll, a text, just as if we are there, receiving the words of Mordecai, enjoining us to observe the day and remember the events which lead to it.

Hearing the megillah, we’re like the Jews who have just been saved, grateful to be alive, determined to replace evil with good, hearing the news proclaimed as if from the royal court itself. We don’t just tell the story, but live it. Just as Mordecai commanded the Jews of his day to give gifts to the poor and gifts to neighbors and friends, we give gifts to the poor and send gifts of food (see herefor details.) As they celebrated and gave thanks, we celebrate and give thanks.

Reading from the megillah isn’t about recounting ancient history, it’s about being in the events, right now- because its greater themes, of life and death, gratitude and celebration, generosity and courage, are not history, but the core of life itself, today.

Happy Purim to one and all,

RNJL

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Shabbat Zachor: Sending Gifts

Copyright Neal Joseph Loevinger 2010

Torah Portion Tetzaveh

Shabbat Zachor

In Tetzaveh we learn laws of the priests and their service in the portable Sanctuary. Shabbat Zachor is right before Purim; we read a special Torah reading and haftarah reminding us of the dangerous nation of Amalek.

“And Mordecai wrote these things, and sent letters unto all the Jews that were in all the provinces of the king Ahasuerus, both nigh and far, to enjoin them that they should keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar, and the fifteenth day of the same, yearly, the days wherein the Jews had rest from their enemies, and the month which was turned unto them from sorrow to gladness, and from mourning into a good day; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness, and of sending portions one to another, and gifts to the poor.” (Book of Esther, 9:20-22)

The quote above teaches us not only to observe Purim, but also two central practices of Purim observance: mishloach manot, or gifts of food, and matanot l’evyonim, gifts to the poor. (Click the links to get further explanation of these mitzvot.)

I draw your attention to these practices- sending gifts- by way of reflecting on the reading for Shabbat Zachor, which begins with the remembrance of Amalek’s attack on the Israelites and continues with the prophet Samuel, in the haftarah, executing Amalek’s king, Agag, as part of Israel’s war against its enemy. These texts are connected to Purim through the figure of Haman, said to be descended from Agag; just as the Amalekites sought Israel’s destruction in its land, Haman seeks Israel’s destruction in exile.

The texts of Shabbat Zachor and even of Purim itself contain shocking violence and are thus a sobering reminder that our world is not always safe nor joyful. Some interpret these readings as reminders of the necessity for Jewish self-defense when Amalek returns; while I don’t disagree that self-defense is one theme of Shabbat Zachor and Purim, I also don’t think it’s the only significant teaching of these passages.

We read above that Mordecai instituted Purim as not a solemn memorial day, but of feasting and sending mishloach manot and matanot l’evyonim, as explained above. To me, these practices- sending portions of food to our friends and family, and giving gifts to the poor- are also critical parts of the message. Precisely because the world can be cruel and unpredictable, our responses must not only be in kind, but also in kindness, creating compassionate communities. Compassionate communities, wherein the poor and lonely are remembered and sustained, will not in themselves stop an Amalek; but self-defense, in itself, will never heal us or the world from the scars that Amalek leaves. Perhaps Mordecai understood that after the people rose up against their enemies, the only way forward was to love each other more, and thus create the possibility that Amalek would be defeated in the realm of values, and not only in battle.

Shabbat Zachor calls us to remember what Amalek did to us, but Purim calls us to act in a way that defeats Amalek more completely: by acting out of our deepest vision of caring community, sustaining and gladdening each other, we show the world a different way of being, and this too is a triumph.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Purim,

RNJL

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Purim and the Challenge of Remembering

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Purim

Today is Purim, but for the first time in years, I’m not going to
write Purim Torah for the occasion. (Of course, some of you may regard
what follows as Purim Torah – that is, silliness- anyway, but it’s not
deliberate Purim Torah.)

I hope I will not offend any member of this Torah study community by
referring to the recent words of an American politician. Referring to
these words must not be construed as a partisan endorsement of his
candidacy, but are merely a response to some ideas put out into the
American discourse in the past week, ideas which I believe have some
resonance in and for the Jewish experience.

Today is Purim, and so last night and this morning we read the scroll
of the Book of Esther, containing a story which will be familiar to
many readers. Esther becomes queen of Persia, but does not reveal her
true identity as a Jew until forced to by external, existential
pressures. The wicked Haman is linked to Amalek, the nation at war
with Israel since the days of the Exodus- in fact, the Torah reading
for Purim is Exodus 17, recalling Israel’s war with Amalek. The
message seems clear: in the days of Moshe and in the days of Esther
and in every generation, an Amalek arises against the people Israel,
and so Jews can never let down their guard, must always suspect the
worst, can never be fully at home when enemies may be present in any
society in which we live.

I have known many Jews who have suffered real and undeniable
anti-Semitism, either in Europe or here in North America- and yet for
many Jews, myself included, it’s almost impossible to imagine not
feeling entirely at home in America. Generations who have suffered
bigotry may not understand those who come after them who haven’t, and
vice versa. Those who have known Amalek first-hand may have a very
different sense of what it means to be a Jew than those who – not
incorrectly- see the Jewish community in America as mostly prosperous,
powerful, and integrated into civic institutions.

To me, Senator Obama’s recent speech on race relations in America
resonated deeply with my own thoughts about the Jewish experience. If
you substitute “Jim Crow” for “Amalek” in the paragraph above, I think
you get at what he was trying to say about the disconnect between
those who have suffered greatly, and whose worldview has been greatly
shaped by that suffering, and others, perhaps in a different
generation, who believe that a society can, in fact, progress and change.

This is where I find the Book of Esther and the readings about Amalek
so challenging: of course I think we must remember our encounters with
Amalek, but I also think the Jewish community and Judaism itself are
sometimes overburdened by history, which wasn’t (isn’t) always so
tragic. As I said on Shabbat Zachor, the problem with remembering what
Amalek did to us is remembering that not every critic or political
opponent is Amalek- and far too often we resort to archetypes which
make ordinary conflicts seem like existential threats.

Every community struggles with its history, but history is rarely
simple. On Purim, we let loose and have fun, but we also struggle with
challenging texts- stories which demand a thoughtful response, stories
which challenge simple notions of “remember what they did to us.”
Amalek is real, but the world changes and evolves. Both are true, and
admitting the one is not denying the other. That’s what I heard said
in Philadelphia, and that’s what I remembered last night at our Purim
celebration.

Happy Purim, and Shabbat Shalom,

RNJL

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Tetzaveh/ Purim: The Torah of Hunting Accidents (long)

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Purim

Dear Friends:

It’s almost Purim, and you know what that means . . . . . .

That’s right, it’s time to study Torah with the most holy Adar hermeneutic!

Every year, around Purim time, we look at some of the sacred principles of our
most holy
religion in a slightly different way, usually influenced by such great scholars
as the former
chief rabbi of the Freedonian Ghetto, Slib Ovitz, and another great rabbi, Sam
Buca, who
was Rabbi Ovitz’s second cousin once removed (for, apparently, getting sauced
and
making a non-halachic suggestion to a female guest at a bar mitzvah party.)

With that in mind, let’s turn to Parshat Tetzaveh, which is mostly a description
of the
special and sacred garments of the Kohen Gadol, or “High Priest,” who was
dressed in
extraordinary clothing in order to perform the rituals of the ancient Sanctuary.
The Kohen
Gadol wore a robe, called the “ephod,” which had a breastplate built into it,
and
decorations around the hems. (These days, most Jewish professionals who are men
generally don’t wear “breastplates,” unless they are going as Xena the Warrior
Princess to
the Purim party, but I read in the newspaper that the “Law Committee” of the
Conservative
Movement is looking into permitting it as a daily thing. A decision is due in
about 2043.)

Anyway, these decorations had the shape of fruit and bells:

“On its hem make pomegranates of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, all around the
hem,
with bells of gold between them all around: a golden bell and a pomegranate, a
golden
bell and a pomegranate, all around the hem of the robe. Aaron shall wear it
while
officiating, so that the sound of it is heard when he comes into the sanctuary
before the
Lord and when he goes out — that he may not die. ” (Shmot/Exodus 28:33-35,
really!)

Now, it’s easy to understand why the Kohen Gadol would have pomegranates on his
hem-
after all, since the earliest days of the Jewish people, the question: “maybe
you want a
piece of fruit?” has been linking one generation to another as a spiritual
legacy, and thus
the robe of the High Priest is a sartorial representation of the eternal Jewish
ideal of truly
omnipresent, yet healthy, snack food. Other religions have principles of faith:
as Jews, we
accessorize.

But understanding the pomegranates just begs the question: why the bells? After
all,
wouldn’t the acute, argute, blaring, blatant, cacophonous, clanging, clangorous,
deafening, discordant, ear-piercing, ear-splitting, harsh, high, metallic,
noisy, penetrating,
piercing, piping, raucous, screeching, sharp, strident noises of the bells
disturb the
devotional head-space of the High Priest as he made his prayers?

As you can imagine, the Talmud and other traditional commentators have a lot to
say
about this. One midrash, found in a collection of ancient sermons by the famed
preacher
Abissel Kichel, links the bells to the last part of verse 33, where it says
“that he may not
die.” This commentary points out that if the High Priest didn’t have bells on,
maybe the
guards around the Temple wouldn’t hear him coming, and would mistake him for a
wild
animal, or an intruder. Rabbi Kichel offers a parable:

“The bells on the hem of the ephod- to what may these be compared? It may be
compared
to the Viceroy who goes hunting with his friend- his friend comes up behind him,
and the
Viceroy mistakes him for a beast in the bush, and grievously wounds him. But
with the
bells on the ephod, it may be compared to a Viceroy who goes hunting with his
friend, and
the friend warns the Viceroy of his approach, and there is no accidental
bloodshed.”

[Note- the "Viceroy" the one who actually runs the kingdom for the king. The
king was
often a mere figurehead, or "do'ofbal" in Aramaic, who achieved his office by
mere
accident of birth, not by virtue of administrative capability or ability to
speak a coherent
sentence in any known language. In the Hebrew of our parable, the word for
"Viceroy" is
the "S'cheney," or "second."]

Another medieval commentator, Zalman Rashdi, in his commentary on the priestly
service
called “The Kohanic Verses,” takes Abissel Kichel’s parable one step further:

“The Kohen Gadol – his bells are not for his honor, but for the honor of the
people, lest his
approach to the Sanctuary should cause the Temple guards to mistake him for an
intruder.
The Holy Books compare this to a Viceroy ["S'cheney"] who wounds his friend
while
hunting- but would not the Viceroy, because of the arrogance and pride that
comes with
his exalted station, be loath to admit his mistake to the people, and would he
not
therefore bring shame upon the Torah and the people Israel ? For if the Viceroy
did not
immediately admit of his error to the people, woe unto the Torah, for repentance
and
humility are lost to the world! Therefore, let the Priest always wear bells, so
that there will
be no accidental shedding of blood.”

Now, admittedly, the author of the Kohanic Verses is mixing his metaphors a bit,
because
the Talmud is apparently saying that the priest wears the bells so not to cause
any . . .
well, let’s say, weaponry mishaps, in the Temple courtyards. The parable,
however,
compares this to a “Viceroy” who is hunting with his friend, and accidentally
wounds him-
but if the Temple guards thought the High Priest was a wild bird, for example,
and they
accidentally wounded him as a result, then it’s the guards who are like the
trigger-happy
“Viceroy” in the parable, and not the Priest.

So it seems that these commentaries are saying that even if it was guards who
had a -
what did we call it? a weaponry mishap- it would still be, in some sense, the
fault of the
High Priest, who is compared to a Viceroy, and is thus always responsible for
exercising
extreme caution in situations where somebody just might get hurt. That’s why he
has to
wear bells on the hems of his robe, just to make sure nobody gets a sharp arrow
in the
you-know-what. (That’s gotta be a big ouch, when you think about it.)

The spiritual lesson we can learn is this: even in the most holy precincts of
our ancient
Sanctuary, mishaps could have occurred when men are running around with
hand-held
projectile weaponry. If- God Forbid!- such a weaponry mishap DID occur, our
Torah
understands that it’s the natural inclination of public figures such as the High
Priest, who
is compared to the “Viceroy,” to be too proud to properly repent before the
people, and
thus they have to be prevented from causing any trouble in the first place.

Fortunately, of course, we know that in all of Jewish history- and really,
throughout all of
Western Civilization- the Torah’s warnings have been heeded most stringently,
and in any
situation where important people could be the cause of unfortunate weaponry
mishaps,
the utmost precautions are always foremost on everybody’s minds. Thus, to this
day, the
bells on the garment are a symbolic way of expressing that “Viceroys and
hunting” are a
very dangerous combination, to be avoided at all costs, so that “humility and
repentance”
are not lost, and the Torah itself is exalted among the nations.

happy Purim and Shabbat shalom,

Rabbi Neal

PS- if you want more, well, you know, serious, commentaries on Tetzaveh, you can
find
them, along with a summary, here:

http://www.myjewishlearning.com/texts/Weekly_Torah_Commentary/tetzaveh_index.htm

and the text of the parsha is here:

http://www.jtsa.edu/community/parashah/index.shtml

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The Poetry of Purim

Copyright 2011 Neal Joseph Loevinger

Torah Portion: Purim

Dear Friends: With the holiday of Purim almost upon us, I
thought it would be a good time to do something a little more-
aahh, cultural, shall we say?

As many of you know, Purim is a fun and happy holiday, in which
we read the story of Esther and her bravery, which saved the
Jews from destruction in ancient Persia. What many of you may
not know is that not only does Purim typically involve funny hats,
a bit of shnapps, and yummy hamentaschen, but there is a more
serious and creative aspect of traditional Purim observance as
well.

Of course, the Jewishly educated among you realize that I’m
referring to the revered and holy art of Purim haiku, which is
rapidly regaining its prominence as one of the most spiritually
satisfying of Jewish religious practices. Many of you probably
learned in school that a haiku is a short poem, with lines of five,
seven, and five syllables, often evoking nature, which originated
in Japan. Well, that’s only partially right- recent linguistic
research has shown that the history of the word involve a hard,
gutteral -kh- sound, making the Hebraic origins obvious: it’s a
chai-ku, a poem of life.

Many Purim haikus illustrate the way Jews celebrate the holiday
in their places of worship, with the guidance of their spiritual and
lay leaders. For example:

cantor in costume
much Jewish frivolity
rabbi wearing drag

joyful children smile
songs, laughter, festive feasting
board members tipsy

Or perhaps you might have a haiku which is a paean to the
distinctive foods of the season:

delicate pastry
golden star, heart of sweet prune
soon, only matzah

It’s also important to understand that Purim haiku, in particular,
is something that helps Jews connect the timeless story of
Esther and Mordecai with their local circumstances and modes
of cultural expression. For example, these two haikus only work if
you pronounce the key phrases of local idiom with a heavy
Boston accent:

Queen Esther, so brave
Risked life, saved the Jews
She was – wicked smahhht*

Mordecai wise, strong
Gave Haman and sons what fer **
spring breeze, they sway high

Then again, Purim haiku can have an implicit political message
in it:

King of Persia
nefarious advisor
like “W” and Rove

Sometimes Jews write Purim haiku in order to give local or
historical figures the symbolic seriousness which derives from
being compared to the epic and paradigmatic figures of the Book
of Esther:

hero of legend
appeared when life was dark
Mordecai? Ortiz!

all times hatch evil
then, Haman plotted bad schemes
today- Steinbrenner

As our final example, here’s a Purim haiku which is fascinating
for its linking of local events- in this case, the merger of two
neighborhood synagogues- with the release from the
oppressions of bureaucracy which the Jewish holy day provides:

Bereshit process
Xanax prescriptions arise
aaah! Purim, no vote !!!

As you can see, Purim haiku continues to be a living art form,
putting into poetry the spirituality of the season.

happy Purim, y’all,

rnjl

*[smart, for those outside New England]

**[a term meaning vengeance]

PS- for those who want some serious learning this week, here
are two links: the first is teachings on Parshat Tzav, the next is on
the holiday of Purim itself.

http://www.myjewishlearning.com/texts/
Weekly_Torah_Commentary/tzav_index.htm

http://www.myjewishlearning.com:80/holidays/Purim.htm

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