Unbowed
Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
Rav Yitzchok Hutner would comment that we don’t make Havdolah
at the conclusion of Purim because we want the day to remain with
us. We struggle to hold on to the spiritual clarity, sense of purpose and
mission that were so apparent at the mishteh yayin.
The growth is not a fleeting byproduct of the wine;
rather, it is something that was buried within and was revealed by the wine.
The joy we experienced wasn’t outside of us, but inside. All we did was strip
away the complications and cheshbonos that are there the entire year. At
the conclusion of Purim, we seek to draw that joy into our souls, so that we
can create a cocoon for it and have reserves of simchah available at all
times.
I am always on the lookout for new insights, ideas I
have never heard before. Chiddush doesn’t have to be new to excite us.
The Torah is endless, and every time we gain a new understanding,
it is a chiddush and the neshomah gets charged from it.
I saw a fascinating idea in the Sefer Shela
Hakadosh brought from sifrei kodesh. The Shela explains that
Binyomin was the only one of the shevotim who did not bow to Eisov. When
a person bows, he accepts some degree of the power possessed by the person or
object he is bowing to. All of the shevotim, except for Binyomin, bowed
to Eisov, and thus, to a certain degree, Eisov was able to harm them – and
maintain a hold on them - with his powers of tumah.
Shmuel Hanovi anointed Shaul Hamelech king, because,
as a descendant of Binyomin, he was confident that Shaul would be able to
remove the effect of Amaleik, the descendant of Eisov, from Am Yisroel.
However, Shaul sinned and failed in his mission.
Mordechai Hatzaddik took over where Shaul left off
(see Medrash, Esther Rabbah 10:14). As a descendant of Binyomin, he was
also untouched by Eisov and Amaleik and was able to stand up to Haman and
remove Amaleik’s hold. With strength inherited from his forefather, Binyomin,
who did not bow to Eisov and remained untainted by him, “lo yichra velo
yishtachaveh,” Mordechai did not bow to the Amaleik of his day. Putting his
life in jeopardy to reject the power of Amaleik, Mordechai was able to defeat
him.
Binyomin and his offspring are blessed with an
additional source of strength to withstand the forces of evil. The Medrash in
Esther Rabbah (7:7) lists several similarities in pesukim
pertaining to Yosef and those talking about Mordechai. This strength came from
Rochel Imeinu, mother of Yosef and ancestor of Mordechai, says Rav Gamliel
Rabinovich. She was moser nefesh to preserve the pride of her sister
Leah and implanted this ability, a burning ga’avah d’kedushah, in her
children.
Mordechai fused the pride and strength of Rochel with
Binyomin’s purity and was thus equipped to withstand Haman’s threats. He
rallied Am Yisroel around him and, b’achdus, together, they
dislodged Amaleik’s grip over them.
Hence the new light of Purim, laYehudim hoysah orah,
for their light had been dimmed by Amaleik and their Torah wasn’t complete as
long as the shadow of Amaleik hovered over them. Purim marks the day
when all the Jews were freed from that heavy veil of darkness.
Purim stands
as a beacon to Jews for all time to withstand temptation and threats of evil
occupiers and the evil inclination. We are all strong enough to stand up to our
enemies. Not only shevet Binyomin, but all of Klal Yisroel. Not
only the ainiklach of Rochel, but all of us.
The neis of Purim bequeathed this power
to all of us. Every Yid is gifted with this mix of pride, confidence and
purity.
Our first encounter with Eisov’s grandson, Amaleik,
comes in Shemos (17:8), where the posuk states, “Vayavo
Amaleik vayilocheim im Yisroel b’Refidim.” Amaleik came and battled Klal
Yisroel in Refidim. The Gemara (Sanhedrin 101a) explains that
the posuk states that the battle took place in Refidim to tell us that
Amaleik was able to fight Klal Yisroel because the nation became weak - rofu
yedeihem - in their study and observance of Torah.
In order to beat back Amaleik and his descendants, we
have to be dedicated to the Torah. Amaleik is the descendant of Eisov and
inherited his abilities. Yitzchok promised Eisov that when Yaakov is weak, he
shall rise over him. Cleaving to the Torah means seriously devoting ourselves
to its study and also following its commandments.
If we want to be able to combat the koach hara,
we have to embody the koach hatov. We are only tovim if we are ehrlich
and straight and medakdekim bemitzvos. If we slack off in shemiras
hamitzvos, even in only one mitzvah, then we will lack what
we need to overcome the many temptations and difficulties Amaleik places in our
paths to snag and destroy us.
We have to live like Yidden, leading virtuous
lives.
Under the oppression and fierce opposition of the
Communist regime, Rav Yosef Yitzchok of Lubavitch persisted in teaching Torah
and spreading Yiddishkeit. He ignored threats and warnings, charging his
spirited followers to do the same. He explained that this ability was a
reflection of a middah demonstrated by Mordechai Hatzaddik in Megillas
Esther. The posuk (5:9) states, “Ukere’os Haman es Mordechai
besha’ar hamelech velo kom velo zah mimenu.” Haman
left the king’s palace in good spirits, but when he saw Mordechai sitting in
his path and neither rising nor bowing, Haman was overcome with anger.
If you examine the language of the posuk,
you’ll notice that it doesn’t say that Haman was upset that Mordechai didn’t
bow for him. It says “velo kom velo za.” The rebbe said that
those words signify that not only did Mordechai not rise for the viceroy, but
he didn’t even feel an inner tremor. Not only did Mordechai not react, Haman
simply didn’t register with him. Mordechai was kulo tov and had no
relationship at all with ra. It didn’t faze him in any way.
Good Jews have always striven to live with this middah,
being certain and confident in their bitachon.
We have to live big and proud, free of pettiness and
dishonesty. Purim is a day when we absorb that timeless pride,
relearning how to grab on to the faith of Mordechai. And as we do on Yom
Hakippurim, the day that is similar to Purim, on this day we are
able to rid ourselves of sins, immorality, deceit and thievery. With proper
faith and the emunah that is the bedrock of the day, we understand that
it is not necessary to be devious or under-handed to obtain the sustenance we
need.
When Purim is over, we lain Parshas Tzav
and learn the halachos of the korban todah. Gratitude to Hashem
for His gifts to us help us appreciate that what we have comes from Him. If we
are grateful and appreciative, we recognize that our parnassah is from
Hashem. If we want to be showered with His blessing, we would do better to
study Chovos Halevavos Shaar Habitachon than to act unscrupulously. As
we offer our thanks to Hashem with the korban todah, that message is
reinforced.
The generations before us, including the ones that
came to America with no physical possessions, were wealthy in the aphorisms and
truisms that sustained them and their families in a spiritually inhospitable
climate. “A Yid doesn’t bow. Ah Yid bookt zich nisht,” was
a favorite. That is at the very core of our DNA.
It is all the more understandable in light of the Shela
Hakadosh’s words.
We don’t bow, because we want to retain our purity.
Our ideology is not for sale. Those who didn’t bow to the secular ideology in
which they found themselves, didn’t become overwhelmed and overtaken by it.
Those who stood proudly in the face of temptations and pressures to compromise
on shemiras hamitzvos were saved from the vestiges of Amaleik that
ripped so many millions of Jews from their moorings.
Those who were loyal to the Torah and never deviated
from the proper course had orah vesimchah vesason viykor here in America
and wherever else Hashgochah led them. Kein tihiyeh lonu.
Our zaides and bubbes bequeathed to us
many other minhagim, practices and values. Some have a mekor in Shulchan
Aruch, others don’t. Either way, we cherish them, for it is these small nuances
that give Yiddishkeit its depth, defining the Jewish soul. When we refer
to gutte Yidden, we are describing those who embody the subconscious
goodness and tzikus accumulated over centuries of being on the side of “tov.”
We have often asked questions about issues that arise
in the running of a newspaper. Sometimes, the answers are black and white.
Oftentimes, however, they aren’t clear at all. The answers lie in the hearts of
men who have toiled in learning for decades and have the refinement and sensitivity
to know what is right and proper.
My friend, Rav Eli Hoberman, reminded me of a
conversation that took place many years ago when an ambitious frum
activist sent the Yated a picture of himself with Rav Aharon Schechter,
clearly hoping that publically sharing the photo would send a message that the rosh
yeshiva endorsed him and values his work. Unsure if the rosh yeshiva would
appreciate the inference and being unable to reach him at that time for some
reason or another, I reached out to Rabbi Hoberman, who is on the staff of
Yeshiva Rabbeinu Chaim Berlin, to find out. He asked the rosh yeshiva,
whose answer had little to do with the ideology of the subject of the
photograph. It was an answer laden with Yiddishe hartz.
“If publishing the picture can assist the Yid
with his parnossah, then what’s the question?” said Rav Schechter.
Indeed, what’s the question?
This memory led me to another such treasure in my
memory bank. A talmid chochom was niftar, and his talmidim
desperately wanted us to feature his petirah on our cover, with an
appreciation and coverage befitting a leading rosh yeshiva. Unsure if
the situation called for it, I contacted my rebbi, Rav Elya Svei, to ask
how to proceed. He responded with just one question. He didn’t ask how many talmidim
the niftar had or how many seforim he wrote. He didn’t ask
anything about him, in fact.
“Is there an almonah who will feel good that
you put him on the cover?” Rav Elya asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Then there’s your answer,” he said.
It’s certainly true about our gedolim that the
white fire that comes along with words of Torah softens and refines their
hearts. The chiddush of Purim is that every one of us has those
instincts, the intuitive knowledge of what’s truly right.
Rav Shlomo Freifeld once explained how a simple,
American-born woman merited sons who are respected bnei Torah. The woman
had never attended a Bais Yaakov, and her husband was unlearned as well. But
she had a unique minhag. When she met wealthy people, she solicited them
for the yeshiva her sons attended. She never tired of her practice.
One day, the woman, a secretary, went on strike,
refusing to do the work her boss needed from her because she had asked him for
money for the yeshiva and he turned her down. She wouldn’t budge until
he helped the yeshiva.
“Such stubbornness and persistence are Yiddishkeit
itself, and that’s how one merits choshuve children,” Rav Freifeld
reflected.
After arriving in Eretz Yisroel, Rav Yechezkel
Abramsky would speak longingly about the beautiful minhagim of the
simple Jews in Lita. “A Yid from my former hometown of Slutsk came to
visit me this week,” Rav Abramsky told his talmidim, “and he was dressed
in his bigdei Shabbos.”
Rav Abramsky looked around at his talmidim, a
group of accomplished and diligent talmidei chachomim, and spoke
about the values of the Jews in a bygone world.
“I recalled the minhag of the Jews of Slutsk:
Whenever they would come to speak with the rov, even about a mundane
matter at a mundane time, they would wear Shabbos clothing in honor of
the Torah.”
It is not only the great rabbis, but also the simple
Jews from the old country, the Jews from this country, who have been
wizened by years of experience and vision to be able to look at the world differently
than today’s gadget generation does. Their taavos do not involve
blending into the culture and feeding off it. Their ambitions always leave room
for Hashem and Torah. They act differently, dress differently, and listen to
different types of music.
It is not enough not to bow. We need to pledge
allegiance to the nuances of mesorah and to the teachings, habits and
customs of those older and wiser than us. We need to adopt their ahavas
Yisroel, their simple, unconditional love of other Jews, and their ability
to absorb blows and stand up to pressure without cringing.
Mordechai Hatzaddik was a hero for his day and for all
time. It is interesting that although he brought about the salvation of the
Jews, rallying them to his side and causing them to willingly accept the entire
Torah, unbowed by the threats of Haman and Achashveirosh, we have no idea of
his physical stature. We may imagine him as a tall, strong, muscular person,
but he may have been short and thin.
The strength required to persist in golus,
throwing off the shackles of Amaleik, is not dependent on how much you can
bench press. It is derived from “kvetching the benkel,” imbibing
the timeless words of the Torah, and the wisdom and stamina that accompany it.
Purim is but
one day, because it shouldn’t take us a lifetime to derive these lessons. In
one day, we can grasp them and hold them dear, arming ourselves with what we
need to empower our nation to survive, thrive and prepare the world for Moshiach.
The posuk towards the end of the Megillah
states, “Verabbim mei’amei ha’aretz misyahadim ki nofal pachad haYehudim
aleihem” (Esther 8:17). In the wake of the Purim miracle,
many from the other nations converted to Judaism. Rabbonim would quip
and say that if Purim can make a goy into a Yid, then it
is certainly able to make a Yid into a Yid.
Let us hope that Purim made us a better Yid so that we
may be ah gantz yohr freilach.
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