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It's nearly Purim, and in the spirit of the holiday we have added a twist to our Shabbat message. A big todah rabbah to Jonathan Berkowitz for generously lending both his time and creativity to this week's message. Many of you know our guest writer, Jonathan, and are familiar with his intellect and wit. Grab yourself a hamantashen, and get ready to enjoy a little something different today.

Shabbat shalom and chag sameach!

Ezra S. Shanken
CEO, Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver

Megillah Guerrilla: An Unconventional Take on Purim

Purim is a singular holiday; that’s very funny since it’s a plural word. “Purim” is the plural of “pur,” which means a “lot,” as in the root word of lottery. The holiday is so named because Haman cast lots to determine on which day the Jews should die. And there is certainly lots to talk about when Purim comes.

Purim is a holiday of opposites. It can be seen as an opposite of another holiday, Yom Kippur, which has the formal name Yom Hakippurim. That looks like Yom Haki-purim, meaning “a day like Purim.” (If you don’t believe me, take it up with the Vilna Gaon.) Yom Kippur is very formal, proper and correct. Purim emphasizes being informal, improper and incorrect. If you remove the letter U from Purim it spells “prim.” If you add the letter E to Purim and rearrange, it spells “impure.” The joy of Purim is its excesses of food and drink and satire and parody. We certainly don’t act prim, but we do stop before we get too impure!

Here’s another opposite: Of all the Jewish holidays, Purim has the shortest name (in English), yet it gave us the megillah, which has been adopted into English vocabulary to mean a long and involved story.

The villain, Haman, is a descendant of Amalek whose name God promised would be blotted out, so we rattle our groggers to do just that. Haman is the embodiment of all that is evil, yet if you change the first A to a U, it becomes “human.” Does that mean all of us must be ever on guard not to lose our humanity with the seduction that evil can bring? By the way, have you ever counted how many times Haman’s name appears in the megillah? I have; it’s 54, the same as the number of parshayot in the annual cycle. Is that a joke or just a coincidence?

The Book of Esther is a sort of literary joke; perhaps it was written precisely for a holiday of hilarity. We write Purim shpiels full of humour. Can you imagine writing a shpiel for another holiday? Not for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur – there are no characters except for God. The same is true for Shavuot. Pesach has God and Pharaoh and Moses, but in the Haggadah Moses is largely hidden so he could only be an “extra” in a Pesach shpiel. Sukkot? God again, and a bunch of extras camping in the wild. What about Yom Ha’atzmaut? Israeli politics is already a spoof. There are lots of characters and a plot in the Hanukkah story, but we don’t even read the Book of Maccabees. Besides we’d need a shpiel written for one day that would have to last for eight days! Tisha B’Av is no laughing matter. Tu B’shevat? Really? A shpiel about trees?

Humour is the language of faith. Humour represents defiance and an outcry. It keeps hope alive and the redemption possible. Humour has sustained Jews for millennia. But what Jewish holidays other than Purim have humour? The only humour you’ll get in the High Holyday services is in the rabbis’ sermons (if you’re lucky). How funny can Sukkot be? In Vancouver it requires being outside in the fall with the rain and wind. Pesach is definitely not funny: too much cleaning! We call our holidays “seasons of joy” but only Purim is a “season of joke.”

With daily news reports of terrorism, torment and treachery involving Jews and non-Jews alike, the celebration of Purim with evil vanquished is a hopeful response. Purim teaches us that humans need to take responsibility for their own fate. Rabbi Irving ‘Yitz’ Greenberg puts it very succinctly, “The final liberator will be a human redeemer.” And that’s no laughing matter. So enjoy noshin’ on hamantaschen, shakin’ your groggers until you’re groggy, and listenin’ to the thrilla megillah.

Shabbat shalom,

Jonathan Berkowitz