Shabbat Parshat Tetzaveh-Purim 13 Adar 5770, February 27, 2010

Shabbat Shalom: Parshat Tetzaveh-Purim

Exodus 27:20-30:10

By Shlomo Riskin

Efrat, Israel: The harsh winds of anti-Semitism are once again threatening our people with an increasing number of attacks on Jews around the world. But is it possible that even anti–Semitism has a redeeming quality? Let us look to the Purim story for the answer.

Purim is a most joyous, but rather anomalous festival. It captures the universal theme of good triumphing over evil, but for this one day a year, our relatively strict Jewish way of life is replaced with a carnival – like atmosphere of parades, drinking and masks. The Talmud even commands us "to get so drunk that we cannot tell the difference between cursing Haman and blessing Mordechai" (B.T. Megilla 7B).

In order to understand the meaning of this strange directive, as well as to answer our opening question, it is necessary to explore the identity of Purim's real hero. Is it the great Jewish beauty who wins the King's heart and becomes the voice of the Jews as she pleads before the one man who has the power to save or destroy her people?

Or is the hero the king himself who, despite being surrounded by evil men – most notably Haman – is able to rise above the prejudices towards Jews, who are scattered and dispersed across the land, keeping their own laws? When Ahashverosh permits the Jews to defend themselves against their attackers, he demonstrates the kind of wise sovereignty select monarchs have had toward their Jewish subjects throughout the ages.

Or is Mordechai the hero? This humble, saintly, self – effacing man whom Divine Providence put in the right place at the right time, allowing him to overhear the mutinous plot of two of Ahashverosh's ministers, thereby saving the king's life? Or perhaps he's the hero because he never forgets he is a Jew, refusing to bow down to Haman no matter what the consequences are.

To better understand who the real hero might be, we should pay close attention to the Talmudic dictum that on Purim, we must drink until we cannot tell the difference between cursing Haman and blessing Mordechai.

Shushan, the capital of Ahashverosh's kingdom, may very well have been like New York City or any other great melting pot. The historical period of the Book of Esther is dated between 536 and 516 BCE, the period after Cyrus permitted the Judeans to return to Israel, but before the Second Temple was built. Most of the Jews chose to remain in Persia, where they would not have to face the financial and military insecurity awaiting those who headed for Judea. Indeed, the Scroll of Esther may very well be the first work to describe what happens to a Jewish community which chooses to remain in the Diaspora; a situation which parallels our own Diaspora communities today, when Jews have the possibility of returning to Israel but most do not take advantage of the opportunity.

The Jews were the cream of Shushan society with PJY's (Persian Jewish Yuppies) showing up everywhere. Indeed, the Scroll of Esther opens with the king's invitation to attend the great feast in his palace – with no mention of kosher caterers. Even intermarriage seems so deeply entrenched that when the niece of the leading religious Jew of the city marries the king, the text only says: "…she was taken" (Esther 2:8). There is no indication she put up a fight or at least shaved her head in an attempt to make herself ugly during the year of primping in the king's harem. She does not reveal her Jewish lineage and the Ibn Ezra mentions a commentary (which he rejects) indicating that she hides her identity in order to enhance her chances to be chosen queen.

Perhaps G-d's name does not appear because in Shushan these Jews had fallen prey to assimilation and had made no room for Him in their lives. Be that as it may, this story teaches us that the Ruler of the Universe had other plans for His people. In effect, G-d was saying: "Either you will remember that you're Jews on your own, or I'll have to remind you." And so Haman arises to persecute the Jews.

The paradigm for this historical rule of Divine Providence is to be found in the beginning of the Book of Exodus, when the Bible describes the initially prospering descendants of Jacob's family in Egypt: "…And the children of Israel were fruitful and swarmed (va'yishratzu), multiplied and waxed exceedingly mighty and the land was filled with them" (Exodus 1:7). The Midrash picks up on the verb "to swarm," which includes the root noun sheretz (an impure reptile), and the fact that the Jewish people filled the land. The Bible is apparently suggesting that the Hebrews were saturating the cultural landscape of Egypt, swarming over their places of entertainment in order to indulge in every forbidden practice (Midrash Tanchuma Yashan Shemot 6).

And then what happens? "There arose a new king over Egypt" (Exodus 1:8). The party is over. Edicts begin, Jews are forbidden to socialize with Egyptians, death is in the air and pogroms occur. Male children are cast into the Nile to drown, or conscripted into the army at the age of eight. In whatever the fashion, when Jews in the Diaspora forget that they are Jews, a Gentile will remind them. His name may be Pharaoh, or Haman, or Stalin, or Hitler. And the Talmud notes that sometimes these evil anti-Semites are more effective than all the prophets that God sends to remind us of our Jewish identity.

Let us now return to the Esther Scroll. Ahashverosh has arbitrarily placed total power in the hands of a new Grand Vizier – Haman – who loses no time in choosing a day when the Jews of Persia may be murdered and their homes looted. Mordechai appears before the palace gates dressed in sackcloth and ashes in a high-profile demonstration on behalf of his people. He can no longer remain silent – and bids Esther (whose Persian name, which comes from the goddess Astarte, can also mean "hidden") to come "out of the closet" to plead for her people before the King. At that moment, placing her life on the line for her nation, Esther very possibly becomes the first ba'alat teshuva. She succeeds in her mission, the Jews in Persia are granted the right to defend themselves, and Haman is hanged. The son she bears with Ahashverosh, Darius, is the king who allows the Jews in Judea to complete their Second Temple.

On Purim, we are commanded to drink. The reason is beginning to come clear. Without Haman, the tide of assimilation would have led to Jewish oblivion. Thus, in a rather convoluted and twisted way, we owe our continued existence to this classic anti-Semite. Yes, it is natural to praise Mordechai, but had it not been for Haman, neither he nor Esther would have stepped up to the plate and emerged as Jewish leaders. And we need to drink in order to blot out the difference between the Jewish patriot and the Gentile anti-Semite who activated the Jewish patriot. We need the external stimulus of wine in order to celebrate a Jewish victory which owes its genesis to anti-Semitism! And if Jews ever think that the Diaspora is more secure than our homeland Israel, let the Scroll of Esther remind them that Diaspora assimilation and anti–Semitism are the greatest dangers of all.

Shabbat Shalom

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