Guest Post by Beth Schlesinger
This Purim, like last year, I will not be spending with my children. My Sunday visit is cancelled. This year, like last year, I have no idea how Sammy and Benji will celebrate, if they even have a costume or if they will even be taken to a Purim party to be with all the other children. I sincerely hope so. Even if they can't celebrate this joyous day with their mother, I wish them all the fun, laughter and happiness in the world.
As I think about my own personal tragedy, I reflect on the story of Purim and try to find new meaning behind the traditional and superficial story we tell our children.
Since my boys attend the Chabad kindergarden, where better to look for a Purim lesson than in their teachings?
I found the following:
Purim teaches us that in a time of crisis, faced with a ruthless enemy like Haman, we must turn all the more tenaciously to our source of strength, and show that we are “the People of Mordechai, who would not kneel nor bow down” to anything that is contrary to Yiddishkeit.
As a child and even into adulthood, I was always taught and naively believed that our enemies are external; dangerously lurking on the other side of the fence ready to pounce, while we stand united with our Jewish brethren, smugly secure within the tightly protected confines of our communities. It is only now, as an adult after tasting the bitter pill of reality that I realise how childishly simplistic the story is told. Haman versus Mordechai, Vashti versus Esther. The goodies pitted squarely against the baddies, neatly delineated into 2 camps: Haman the evil gentile who tried to destroy us, the good and innocent Jewish victims. But we, the chosen People, stood together as one and defeated the menacing enemy. Everyone celebrated and was happy until the next existential threat rose up to conquer us once again.
But what happens when there is a Haman within our midst? When not everyone in the Jewish community is a Mordechai or Queen Esther? When elements within our own camp seek to mercilessly destroy us and rejoice over our downfall just like Haman tried and failed to do. What do you do when the lines blur so that you can no longer be sure who are your enemies and who are your supporters?
Kol Yisroel areivim zeh bazeh. All of Israel are responsible for one another, we are told. If only more people were to realize this dictum and take heed.
Purim is an elusive festival. It is a story wrapped in disguise, hidden behind a costume, concealed behind a mask. While it may appear frivolous merry making from the outside, behind the costumes and spiels, a meta-story unfolds. Just when Haman arrogantly believed his plot was all sewn up, everything suddenly turned on its head. Instead of destroying, he was the one destroyed. He tried to inspire hatred for the Jews but instead, he emerged as the hated one.
Purim is traditionally associated with childish fun but there is also a serious adult message to take home.The word Purim comes from 'Pur;' the lots which Haman drew to murder the Jews but it is also related to the Hebrew word `porer, ' which means to dismantle, break, destroy, break into crumbs. It is perhaps at times we assume we are most in control that we can be so wrong. Hashem may unexpectedly reveal His hidden hand at any moment and that is why even in the depths of darkness and despair, we must cling on to our faith and not lose hope.
Purim Sameach
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