We Are Here!
By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
People wonder
how we can celebrate Purim with true joy while a war is going on in
Eretz Yisroel. People ask us how we can sing when Jews are being held hostage
in terrible conditions, barely hanging on to life. How can we smile when Jews
are being chased around the world and anti-Semitism is on the rise? How can you
dance, they ask us, when people can’t make ends meet, when children can’t get
into a school of their choice, when children are falling through the cracks?
How can you be enveloped by joy when so many people are lacking, confused, lost,
and disillusioned? How can we be happy when there is so much strife?
The questions
are not new. As a people, we have suffered tremendously over the years. Every
country we were in eventually tormented us and showed us the door. We have been
killed, mutilated, separated, and isolated, plundered and murdered. We were led
to the gallows, guillotines, and gas chambers for the sin of being Yidden.
We were chased in the streets, our children robbed from us, and, most recently,
Jews were shot as they sat in their homes and celebrated at a music festival.
It is not new.
It has been going on for thousands of years.
Ever since the Yom
Tov of Purim was established, Jews have been celebrating it exactly
as prescribed by Chazal. No matter where we were, Purim was Purim.
For just as there is a mitzvah to be sad during the month of Av,
there is a mitzvah to be happy during Adar and especially on Purim.
Twenty-plus
years ago, I was sitting by myself at an airport gate waiting to board a flight
to Eretz Yisroel. An elderly man sat down next to me. I noticed that he had a
patch over his left eye, and as our conversation began, I noticed that he did
not hear well.
He started the
conversation. “How do I look?” he asked in heavily accented English.
I wasn’t sure
how to respond. He needed help walking, couldn’t hear well, and was blind in
one eye.
I told him that
he looked quite fine to me and that I hoped that whatever the problem with his
eye was, he would have a refuah sheleimah.
He had something
else in mind.
He smiled and
said, “Let me tell you how I look. I look at Hitler. Ich bin nuch du. He
took me away as a youngster to der lager. He took my wife to
Auschwitz for three years, un geb ah kuk: How do I look? I lived
here 50 years. I have children and grandchildren. At my age, I am about to
travel to Israel. That’s how I look. Boruch Hashem, I can go. Boruch
Hashem, I am here. Farges vegen altz. Ich bin du. (Forget about
everything else. I am alive and here.). That’s how I am looking at it. They
tried so many times in my lifetime to get rid of us, and now they are trying
again. But we are still here.”
An old,
crippled, partially blind Czechoslovakian Holocaust survivor understands
it. Shouldn’t we, as well?
We should look
at it the way he did. Look at everything they did to destroy us, to kill us,
and to wipe us out. Hashem saved us from all those who seek our destruction,
and we are still here, thriving and flourishing. As the man said, farges
vegen altz. Mir zenen noch du. Despite everything, we are here. Is that not
a reason to celebrate?
It was just
before Purim in 1941 in the Warsaw Ghetto. There were few reasons to
smile. Everyone locked in there was worried about what the next day would
bring. Hunger and disease seemed destined to be the two species of mishloach
manos.
The Piacezna
Rebbe gathered a few broken souls around him. He quoted the Tikkunei Zohar,
which states that Purim is as holy as Yom Kippur, as evidenced by
the name of the holiest day of the year, Yom Kippurim, which can be read
as Yom K’Purim, meaning that the holiest day on the Jewish calendar is
like Purim. Many interpretations are offered in explanation of the
comparison.
The rebbe
opened his heart and addressed the suffering people. When the sun sets on Erev
Yom Kippur, he told them, no Jew says that they won’t fast this year
because they aren’t in the mood. As Yom Kippur begins, no one says that
it is too hard to do teshuvah, so they will wait until they are in the
mood.
Yom Kippur
arrives and you get yourself into it, ready or not. You follow the tzivuy
Hashem. Purim is no different, said the rebbe. Purim
arrives with the obligation to be joyous. Even when surrounded by evil
murderers, illness, and suffering, Jews are obligated to be joyous on this day.
“You,” the rebbe
told those poor souls in the Warsaw Ghetto, “must also be happy today.”
That was then,
in the darkest hour our people have known since the churban Bais Hamikdosh.
Today, boruch Hashem, we are surrounded by so many reasons to be happy,
not the least of which is our relative comfort and freedom and the right to
live as ehrliche Yidden. We have no excuse to hold back and sit in our
homes depressed, forlorn, and worried about the future, depressed and
complaining.
The simcha
that Hakadosh Boruch Hu shone into His world in Shushan is felt on Purim
in the streets of Jewish neighborhoods the world over. No matter what
challenges we are faced with, when Purim approaches, our hearts beat a
bit faster, our smiles stretch a bit wider, and we look at things differently.
On this day, we reflect on the situation the Jews were in, as the king’s main
deputy targeted them all for death, and how Hashem turned his plan on his face
and had him and his sons killed, while the Jews were given a new lease on life.
The increase in simcha
experienced by all sorts of Yidden, from wherever they might come, is an
enduring testimony to the reality of the greatness of the day and the depth of
our belief in Hakadosh Boruch Hu, who saves us from our many enemies,
generation after generation.
It was at that
last Purim hour, during the moments when day slowly recedes to night and
the sky begins to darken. Inside the crowded room, a rebbi and talmidim
surrounded a table, as songs, Torah, and quips joined into a burst of sound,
the holy noise of Purim rising heavenward.
At one end of
the long table, covered with a wine-stained cloth and festively-arranged
bottles, a talmid raised a question. He quoted the well-known Gemara,
referred to extensively in halachic discussion of the obligations of the
Purim seudah, which recounts how Rabbah rose and slaughtered Rav Zeira (Megillah
7b).
Rav Zeira had
accepted Rabbah’s invitation to join him for the seudas Purim. Rabbah
fulfilled the dictum of Chazal to drink, and he became inebriated to the
point that he killed his guest. When he realized what transpired, he begged for
Divine mercy and Rav Zeira was revived.
Rishonim
and Acharonim utilize p’shat, remez, drush, and sod
to explain the Gemara on so many levels. But the talmid had a
basic question. Once Rav Zeira’s soul left him, what was Rabbah thinking when
he rose to daven? Can a person request techiyas hameisim? Can we
ask that the order of creation be reversed?
The rebbi
smiled, enjoying the question, and the talmidei chachomim around the
table offered various interpretations. Then the rebbi spoke.
“It was Purim,”
he said, “and during the season of Purim, it isn’t a question. Because
on Purim, on the deepest level, there is no teva and neis,
there is no nature and no miracle. There is no saying that this is what is
supposed to have happened. On Purim, everything that happens proclaims,
‘Ein od milvado. It’s all about Hashem.’”
On Purim,
we can ask for anything, because after reading the Megillah, it becomes
clear once again that there is but one Hand, and nothing else, that bestows and
controls life.
The men around
the table sang another song, because at that moment, it was so obvious, almost
tangible, that it’s all Him. How can one not rejoice?
Yes, there is a
world, and everyone has their issues, and there are many out there lined up
against us, but on Purim, it’s all about “Ein od milvado.” It all
doesn’t matter, because we are in the hands of Hashem, Who will protect us and
care for us.
Purim
is a beacon of light on a dark, stormy night that shines into our world. Every
one of us has struggles. We have days when the rushing waves of tzaros
threaten to engulf us. We encounter people and situations that we find
intolerable. We all sometimes feel lost and abandoned. So many people we know
are sick and in need of a refuah, or suffering in other ways and eagerly
are awaiting a yeshuah. People across Eretz Yisroel fear what the
enemy’s next move will be and what new laws the “friendly” government will
accost them with.
Purim
is an unfurled banner that reads, “Revach vehatzolah ya’amod laYehudim.”
Help can come. Help will come. Don’t despair. Purim reminds us
that all that transpires to us in this world is part of Hashem’s plan. It will
all turn out for the good if we are patient and follow Hashem’s word.
Wherever you go,
you hear the same words being sung to a variety of tunes. It’s all “venahafoch
hu,” over and over again, reminding us that Hashem can quickly bring about
a stunning reversal of any situation. At no time should we give up hope, no
matter how bad the prognosis, no matter what anyone says.
When Esther went
into Achashveirosh, she didn’t ask what her chances of success were. When
Mordechai told her to appeal the case of the Jewish people to King
Achashveirosh, they didn’t consider what their chances of victory were. They davened,
fasted, and did what was right. They placed their faith in Hashem, ignoring
everything and everyone else, and Hashem answered their tefillos and
responded to their teshuvah.
When good things
happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people, the Megillah
reminds us that appearances are deceptive. The Megillah reminds us all
that everything that happens is part of a Divine plan, which we can’t expect to
understand until the entire story has unfolded.
An evil force
may appear to be advancing, but it is only in order for Hashgocha to set
up that power for a more drastic descent to defeat. Evil may be on the ascent,
but it is merely a passing phenomenon and is destined to fail. Goodness and
virtue may appear frail and unimposing, but those who follow Hashem’s path will
triumph.
In every
generation, there are evil people who plot our destruction, but we are still
here, thriving and prospering, and we will do so with Hashem’s help until the
coming of Moshiach.
That message
resonates for all time, wherever Jews find themselves. As we masquerade about,
exchanging mishloach manos with friends and distributing Purim gelt
to the less fortunate, we tap into the kedusha and message of the holy
day. That message never loses its timeliness.
Rav Yaakov
Galinsky related that in Novardok, Purim was a more uplifting day
than Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur, he said, was all about the past - teshuvah,
charotah, and azivas hacheit. Purim was all about the
future. We look ahead to the good times, to deliverance from exile, to the
rebuilding of the Bais Hamikdosh.
It’s Purim.
Dance, smile, and be happy. Look at the positive. Be optimistic. Remember that
Hashem is in charge, not anyone else. As powerful as they may think they are,
they are but pawns in the Hands of the Master Puppeteer.
Rav Shlomo Bloch
wrote a diary of life in the Talmud Torah of Kelm. He describes Purim in
the town whose name is synonymous with single-minded avodah. In Kelm,
the talmidim took the mandate to drink alcohol on Purim very
seriously, he wrote, and the entire community seemed to be “a tefach
higher” than usual, suspended above the ground in joy and spiritual uplift.
May we merit to
appreciate Hashem’s goodness and kindness all year round, especially on Purim.
The great day of Purim, whose joy is connected to its holiness, causes
us to rise higher and higher, closer and closer to Hashem, becoming holier and
better on this day and every day in the future as we merit Hashem’s embrace.
May we, as the
Jews of Shushan did, merit much happiness and joy, as we become liberated from
our personal and communal issues, and experience the rebuilding of the Bais
Hamikdosh very soon.