Happy Purim!

It is hard to believe that Purim begins this evening because here on 76th and Amsterdam, it feels like we have been celebrating for a month. The JCC loves Purim, and the Jewish people, for the most part, love Purim, too. Perhaps the holiday appeals to us because it is a holiday of humor, masquerade, and baked goods. Perhaps it is something more.

The Book of Esther, the text at the core of the holiday, is a campy melodrama where, in true novelistic fashion, life’s twists and turns create suspense, fear, and, ultimately, salvation. As we learn in the Book’s chapters, someone bows or does not bow (Mordechai), someone appears or does not appear before the King (Esther), and someone sleeps through the night unaware (Haman) while someone else is coincidentally up checking the history books (King Achashverosh).

These are the tiny moments in which the fate of a person, and the fate of an entire people, are decided. The Jewish people survive because an alchemy of odd events happens in the proper order. God is hidden, so humans enact a successful but fairly imperfect story of redemption. When the victory comes, however, it is eclipsed by a spate of violence. Even the happy ending is not exactly what we bargained for.

Purim holds a mirror to us and to our world. The holiday celebrates how to live when God’s motives are unknown and when human beings, in our complexity and limitation, encounter events beyond our control. And yet, as the Book of Esther ends, the people are commanded to celebrate their fragile victory in perpetuity. How? Not by reliving their fear and vulnerability but, instead, by feasting, sending gifts to each other, and giving tzedakah to the poor.

As we navigate a confusing and sometimes painful world, we can learn from this. When we feel helpless or unmoored, we can do what the Jews of the Purim story did: gather in community for meals, be generous to friends and neighbors, and give tzedakah to the needy with an open hand. These acts will carry us and ennoble us. They will be the true victory.

Purim Sameach.

Happy Purim!

It is hard to believe that Purim begins this evening because here on 76th and Amsterdam, it feels like we have been celebrating for a month. The JCC loves Purim, and the Jewish people, for the most part, love Purim, too. Perhaps the holiday appeals to us because it is a holiday of humor, masquerade, and baked goods. Perhaps it is something more. 

The Book of Esther, the text at the core of the holiday, is a campy melodrama where, in true novelistic fashion, life’s twists and turns create suspense, fear, and, ultimately, salvation. As we learn in the Book’s chapters, someone bows or does not bow (Mordechai), someone appears or does not appear before the King (Esther), and someone sleeps through the night unaware (Haman) while someone else is coincidentally up checking the history books (King Achashverosh). 

These are the tiny moments in which the fate of a person, and the fate of an entire people, are decided. The Jewish people survive because an alchemy of odd events happens in the proper order. God is hidden, so humans enact a successful but fairly imperfect story of redemption. When the victory comes, however, it is eclipsed by a spate of violence. Even the happy ending is not exactly what we bargained for. 

Purim holds a mirror to us and to our world. The holiday celebrates how to live when God’s motives are unknown and when human beings, in our complexity and limitation, encounter events beyond our control. And yet, as the Book of Esther ends, the people are commanded to celebrate their fragile victory in perpetuity. How? Not by reliving their fear and vulnerability but, instead, by feasting, sending gifts to each other, and giving tzedakah to the poor. 

As we navigate a confusing and sometimes painful world, we can learn from this. When we feel helpless or unmoored, we can do what the Jews of the Purim story did: gather in community for meals, be generous to friends and neighbors, and give tzedakah to the needy with an open hand. These acts will carry us and ennoble us. They will be the true victory.

 Purim Sameach.

“One who saves a single soul,” the Talmud teaches, “the Torah regards them as if they had saved an entire world.”

These words echo through our collective conscience as we follow the news of a hostage deal and ceasefire. What will be? Who will be alive? And, as we cast our vision outward: What will it take to rebuild broken societies and broken souls? Do we dare to imagine? Are our imaginations eclipsed by all that we have seen in these fifteen months?

An answer comes from the Book of Exodus, which we begin reading this week. The book opens with the ancient Israelites in a time of fear and constriction. The Egyptian Pharaoh has enslaved the Israelites and, distressed by their growing population, decreed that all Jewish boys be killed at birth.

The ensuing chapters, however, tell the story of humanity at its most resilient and imaginative. The midwives Shifrah and Puah (whom most Biblical commentators understand to have been Egyptian) refuse to carry out the orders and ensure that all of the Israelite babies live. Yocheved heroically hides her son, Moses, before setting him in a wicker basket on the Nile. This basket is then picked up by the daughter of the Egyptian pharaoh, who cares for the child. Moses’ sister Miriam watches over Moses to see that he reaches safety.

Each of these women—some Israelite, some Egyptian—brings about the redemption of the Israelite nation. Each one, through her discrete action, brings a new world into being. Each one can imagine a different future, and each one deploys herself to bring it about.

These coming weeks will be challenging. The news cycle will lift our spirits and also break our hearts. We are living in history, with its unanswered questions as our constant companions. Within all of it, we, like the women of the Exodus story, have agency. May we use it to find a path toward imaginative action, and may we merit to bring a new and better world into being.

Shabbat Shalom.