Happy Purim!
Purim is this weekend. I always dismissed it as a lightweight in the panoply of Jewish holidays. It was, to me, one of those: "They tried to kill us. We defeated them. Let's eat!" holidays that are so often the subject of Jewish humor. How deep can a holiday about dressing up in costumes, getting rowdy during the reading of the Scroll of Esther, and drinking and eating really be? You don't even get a free pass out of work for Purim - and you call this a holiday?
There were always hints to the serious messages underlying the festivities of Purim. The preceding day is traditionally a fast day. This year, the fast falls a few days early because of Shabbat. There were other hints, too. Giving gifts to the poor, giving gifts of food, and the peculiar obligation to hear the reading of the entire scroll of Esther, not once, but twice.
Several interesting themes provide the subtext for the holiday of Purim. Starting with the name, "Purim" or lots, as in casting lots. The lots in question were the lots the wicked Haman drew to determine the day the Jews of Persia would be massacred.
One of the major themes of Purim is the concept of randomness versus predetermination. It is said that Haman, the villain of the story was doomed from the beginning because he believed everything in life is random, a chance occurrence, the luck of the lottery.
For those of you who do not remember the story, Purim commemorates events that occurred during the Babylonian exile of the Jews, 2,300 years ago. The Persian King Achashverosh threw a series of lavish parties, some say to celebrate the humiliation of the Jews after the destruction of the holy temple in Jerusalem. His queen Vashti, the story tells us, refused to appear naked at one of the banquets, and was executed for her impertinence. The king sought out all of the beautiful women of the kingdom in order to select his new queen, and chose a woman named Esther who kept hidden her Jewish identity.
At this time Haman, the king's grand vizier, was insulted by Esther's uncle Mordechai (some sources say he was her husband), who refused to bow down to him. He collectively punished the Jewish people by passing a decree declaring all Jews were to be put to death on the 15th day of the month of Adar.
Queen Esther took a great risk revealing her true identity to the king, and exposed Haman's plot to murder her and her people. But the risk paid off. The king ordered Haman and his sons to be hanged, and the Jewish people were saved.
The scroll of Esther is a remarkably complex document, despite the relative simplicity of the story. There are many layers of meaning between the lines. It is interesting, for example, that the name of God never appears in the entire scroll, yet it is clear that God's hand is in everything that occurs in the tale. That Esther should be chosen as the new queen, or that Mordechai should happen to understand the language that was spoken by the two men planning the assassination of the king are two examples of coincidences that are not quite random.
We also see this pattern of divine intervention in the themes of opposites, a topsy-turvy world. Haman wished to bring shame to Mordechai by making the Jewish leader bow down at his feet. Instead, Haman was required to lead Mordechai through the city of Shushan on a horse. Haman wished to kill all of the Jews, but was hanged himself, on the very gallows he built for Mordechai. The more Haman tried to bring and end to the Jews of Persia, the more he sealed his own fate.
Finally, Purim teaches us a great deal about our purpose in life. Mordechai asked Esther to speak with the king to halt the genocidal decree, but Esther hesitated. Intruding on the king, unbidden, could have dire consequences. Mordechai said to her that the Jewish people would be fine, their salvation would come from elsewhere, but she and her family would be lost. Why else, he reasoned, would God have brought you to this place at this time, if not for this one purpose?
In other words, this zany holiday of dressing up, drinking, and making a loud racket with noisemakers, is really about the meaning of life. Things happen for a reason, even when we can't understand the reasons, and each of us has a role in life, a way to contribute to humanity. Finally, the greatest lesson hidden in the Scroll of Esther, is that even when it's not readily apparent, God is always present in our lives.
The kids should be bursting with excitement about the upcoming holiday, but my poor ballerina is home sick with a stomach virus. She's been sitting in my bed, watching television with the saddest expression on her face, all day. It breaks my heart. She can't eat, and she can barely drink. She and her still sick daddy make a fine pair, indeed. I just hope she's up to donning her beautiful blue princess costume and enjoying the festivities by Saturday night.
Big brother is excited about his costume. He's going to be a knight in shining armor. I couldn't imagine a more appropriate costume for him. Yesterday I commented how he was eating everything I sent him for lunch. He looked at me rather sheepishly, and finally admitted, "I don't always eat it myself. Sometimes my friends don't bring enough snacks, so I share with them. Two friends came to me the other day and asked me if I had any extras. I only had one extra, so I gave it to the one who was my better friend, but I felt bad about it. The next time they came to me I decided to do eenie-meenie-miny-mo, because it was more fair, but it turns out I had two snacks! So, I let the other kid pick first."
I wanted to hug and kiss my little boy right then and there. Not only was he honest, fessing up to his mom that he was sharing his lunches at school, but he was kind, generous, sweet, and fair-minded about it, too! He was truly a knight in shining armor to his fortunate friends. I stuck an extra snack in his lunchbox this morning.
Like the story of Purim, I wonder what the hidden message is here. My son comes home some days so sad, complaining that no one wants to be his friend, yet he clearly has a reputation for kindness and generosity among his peers. What's going on here? Is this the normal behavior for seven and eight year olds, or is he exaggerating when he tells me no one likes him? How could they not?
On Purim we wear masks, metaphors for the many faces we show the world, hiding close to our hearts who we truly are. Which is the mask and which is the real boy? I like to think the sad, down-hearted, friendless boy is hiding a sweet, generous, friend to all. Perhaps the real story is his expectation that everyone would make such sacrifices for their friends. That all kids would gladly give up their string cheeses and fruit leathers for a fellow second-grader in need.
The baby doesn't have a clue what's coming. We'll dress her up and set her loose. There isn't a better day in the Jewish calendar for wild kids: the noisemakers, the hamentaschen, the crazy costumes. I just hope we're all well enough to attend.
My husband, in the meantime has missed a week of school trying to recover from his miserable flu. It has been wonderful having him home, even if he's spent most of it coughing and sleeping. But the illness is only the beginning. I can already sense the stress he's feeling having to catch up in his classes, his reading assignments, and finding a summer job. I suspect I'll being flying solo this Purim, as my husband fulfills his minimum obligations, and ducks out to study.
But of course, there's a reason for everything. Somewhere in the great scheme of this universe, we are exactly where we're supposed to be, hopefully doing what we're supposed to be doing for the betterment of humanity. Layers of meaning are entwined in the extra loads of laundry I'm doing, the hamentaschen I'm baking, and all of the hard work my husband is doing. And God's hand is in everything we do, the meaning obscured from the eyes of an exhausted law school widow.
There were always hints to the serious messages underlying the festivities of Purim. The preceding day is traditionally a fast day. This year, the fast falls a few days early because of Shabbat. There were other hints, too. Giving gifts to the poor, giving gifts of food, and the peculiar obligation to hear the reading of the entire scroll of Esther, not once, but twice.
Several interesting themes provide the subtext for the holiday of Purim. Starting with the name, "Purim" or lots, as in casting lots. The lots in question were the lots the wicked Haman drew to determine the day the Jews of Persia would be massacred.
One of the major themes of Purim is the concept of randomness versus predetermination. It is said that Haman, the villain of the story was doomed from the beginning because he believed everything in life is random, a chance occurrence, the luck of the lottery.
For those of you who do not remember the story, Purim commemorates events that occurred during the Babylonian exile of the Jews, 2,300 years ago. The Persian King Achashverosh threw a series of lavish parties, some say to celebrate the humiliation of the Jews after the destruction of the holy temple in Jerusalem. His queen Vashti, the story tells us, refused to appear naked at one of the banquets, and was executed for her impertinence. The king sought out all of the beautiful women of the kingdom in order to select his new queen, and chose a woman named Esther who kept hidden her Jewish identity.
At this time Haman, the king's grand vizier, was insulted by Esther's uncle Mordechai (some sources say he was her husband), who refused to bow down to him. He collectively punished the Jewish people by passing a decree declaring all Jews were to be put to death on the 15th day of the month of Adar.
Queen Esther took a great risk revealing her true identity to the king, and exposed Haman's plot to murder her and her people. But the risk paid off. The king ordered Haman and his sons to be hanged, and the Jewish people were saved.
The scroll of Esther is a remarkably complex document, despite the relative simplicity of the story. There are many layers of meaning between the lines. It is interesting, for example, that the name of God never appears in the entire scroll, yet it is clear that God's hand is in everything that occurs in the tale. That Esther should be chosen as the new queen, or that Mordechai should happen to understand the language that was spoken by the two men planning the assassination of the king are two examples of coincidences that are not quite random.
We also see this pattern of divine intervention in the themes of opposites, a topsy-turvy world. Haman wished to bring shame to Mordechai by making the Jewish leader bow down at his feet. Instead, Haman was required to lead Mordechai through the city of Shushan on a horse. Haman wished to kill all of the Jews, but was hanged himself, on the very gallows he built for Mordechai. The more Haman tried to bring and end to the Jews of Persia, the more he sealed his own fate.
Finally, Purim teaches us a great deal about our purpose in life. Mordechai asked Esther to speak with the king to halt the genocidal decree, but Esther hesitated. Intruding on the king, unbidden, could have dire consequences. Mordechai said to her that the Jewish people would be fine, their salvation would come from elsewhere, but she and her family would be lost. Why else, he reasoned, would God have brought you to this place at this time, if not for this one purpose?
In other words, this zany holiday of dressing up, drinking, and making a loud racket with noisemakers, is really about the meaning of life. Things happen for a reason, even when we can't understand the reasons, and each of us has a role in life, a way to contribute to humanity. Finally, the greatest lesson hidden in the Scroll of Esther, is that even when it's not readily apparent, God is always present in our lives.
The kids should be bursting with excitement about the upcoming holiday, but my poor ballerina is home sick with a stomach virus. She's been sitting in my bed, watching television with the saddest expression on her face, all day. It breaks my heart. She can't eat, and she can barely drink. She and her still sick daddy make a fine pair, indeed. I just hope she's up to donning her beautiful blue princess costume and enjoying the festivities by Saturday night.
Big brother is excited about his costume. He's going to be a knight in shining armor. I couldn't imagine a more appropriate costume for him. Yesterday I commented how he was eating everything I sent him for lunch. He looked at me rather sheepishly, and finally admitted, "I don't always eat it myself. Sometimes my friends don't bring enough snacks, so I share with them. Two friends came to me the other day and asked me if I had any extras. I only had one extra, so I gave it to the one who was my better friend, but I felt bad about it. The next time they came to me I decided to do eenie-meenie-miny-mo, because it was more fair, but it turns out I had two snacks! So, I let the other kid pick first."
I wanted to hug and kiss my little boy right then and there. Not only was he honest, fessing up to his mom that he was sharing his lunches at school, but he was kind, generous, sweet, and fair-minded about it, too! He was truly a knight in shining armor to his fortunate friends. I stuck an extra snack in his lunchbox this morning.
Like the story of Purim, I wonder what the hidden message is here. My son comes home some days so sad, complaining that no one wants to be his friend, yet he clearly has a reputation for kindness and generosity among his peers. What's going on here? Is this the normal behavior for seven and eight year olds, or is he exaggerating when he tells me no one likes him? How could they not?
On Purim we wear masks, metaphors for the many faces we show the world, hiding close to our hearts who we truly are. Which is the mask and which is the real boy? I like to think the sad, down-hearted, friendless boy is hiding a sweet, generous, friend to all. Perhaps the real story is his expectation that everyone would make such sacrifices for their friends. That all kids would gladly give up their string cheeses and fruit leathers for a fellow second-grader in need.
The baby doesn't have a clue what's coming. We'll dress her up and set her loose. There isn't a better day in the Jewish calendar for wild kids: the noisemakers, the hamentaschen, the crazy costumes. I just hope we're all well enough to attend.
My husband, in the meantime has missed a week of school trying to recover from his miserable flu. It has been wonderful having him home, even if he's spent most of it coughing and sleeping. But the illness is only the beginning. I can already sense the stress he's feeling having to catch up in his classes, his reading assignments, and finding a summer job. I suspect I'll being flying solo this Purim, as my husband fulfills his minimum obligations, and ducks out to study.
But of course, there's a reason for everything. Somewhere in the great scheme of this universe, we are exactly where we're supposed to be, hopefully doing what we're supposed to be doing for the betterment of humanity. Layers of meaning are entwined in the extra loads of laundry I'm doing, the hamentaschen I'm baking, and all of the hard work my husband is doing. And God's hand is in everything we do, the meaning obscured from the eyes of an exhausted law school widow.
posted by law school widow at 11:50 AM
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