To paraphrase orange-juice purveyor and notorious 1980's homophobe Anita Bryant:
a year without Purim is like a year without sunshine.
What makes Purim so important?
Purim proves that God has a sense of humor.
So if we're to imitate God, or be godly, then it's a holy act to laugh and to make others laugh too.
Purim
is an adult holiday masquerading as a children's party. The story
itself is a farce pretending to be one of the more serious and
historical books of the Bible. Even the name of the holiday, Purim,
which means "lots," as in "lottery," identifies this holiday with the
arbitrary wins and losses of our lives.
The
festivities surrounding Purim are the most outlandish and whimsical of
the Jewish calendar. Most Jews associate Purim with costumes and
carnivals, graggers (noisemakers) and hamantashen (three-cornered
cookies with fillings) with great appeal to children. But it would be
wrong to dismiss Purim as a holiday for children only. Whether
considering the deeper messages of the Megillah (the scroll containing
the Book of Esther) or joining in the self-mocking atmosphere of a Purim
shpiel, adults deserve to celebrate and enjoy Purim.
Although
a serious reading of the story might lead one to see Purim as a holiday
of revenge, when one reads the story of Esther as a comedy it has a
more joyous, self-mocking message. The story is a kind of Jewish
communal fantasy blown out of proportion. For Jews who lived under
oppression and fear, or who experienced brutality and exile, the Book of
Esther and the Purim holiday provided comic relief. The tables are
turned on our enemies several times during the story, some more humorous
than others. In fact, the book acknowledges this theme of reversals
explicitly (Chapter 9, verse 1):
On
the thirteenth day of the twelfth month (that is, the month of Adar)
when the king's command and decree were to be executed, the very day on
which the enemies of the Jews had expected to get them in their power, the opposite happened (v'nahafokh hu), and the Jews got their enemies in their power.
The
Book of Esther provides a fantasy view of a topsy-turvy world, where
the Jews not only escape from their would-be destroyers, but turn the
tables on their enemies. The reversals are taken to extremes when Haman
is impaled on the stake that he had erected for Mordecai. This
comeuppance reinforces the comic scene earlier in the tale, when Haman
leads Mordecai on the horse in the manner that Haman expected to be
honored himself (6:7-10). When Haman is gone, Mordecai wears his
adversary's robes (1:6 and 8:15) and puts on the king's ring, taking
Haman's place as chief advisor.
One of the main themes of the megillah
is that things are not always what they seem. This book mocks us in our
piety and runs roughshod over our exalted values. Even in their
distress, neither Mordecai nor Esther pray! In fact, God's name does not
appear in the Book of Esther even once.
King
Ahasuerus, often described as a fool, is in actuality a hedonist. He is
either feasting or drinking in nearly every chapter of the story (See
Esther 1:3, 2:18, 3:15, 5:6, 6:14, 7:1). And the sexual innuendos are
worth a closer look as well. The book opens with a feast that takes
place over 180 days (1:4) and is followed by seven more days of feasting
(and drinking). Esther appears to be a model of piety in contrast,
though a thoughtful reader might ask, "What's a nice Jewish girl doing
in a palace like this?"
With
its unusually raucous celebration, Purim gives us permission to laugh
at ourselves and at our history and to behave in ways that would be
discouraged the rest of the year.
So, come snow or rain or heat or gloom of night, nothing will stay these revelers from the swift consumption of their appointed rounds.
In other words, come in costume to hear the megillah read this Saturday night and BYOB for the game night afterward!
(Rabbi Penzner's thoughts on Purim will be included in the forthcoming volume of A Guide to Jewish Practice, Volume 2, to be published by the Reconstructionist Press in the fall.)