One of the books that made a deep impression on me as a teen and
throughout my life is Esh Kodesh, the carefully preserved writings of
Reb Kalonimus Kalman Szapiro, the Piaseczno Rebbe. Even in the darkest
of times, in the horror of the Warsaw Ghetto, he did all he could to
preserve life, to maintain the rhythms and customs of the Jewish way
of life, be it mikveh or Shabbat or marriage.
Among his teachings, taught to me from earliest childhood by my
mother, was a deeply ingrained principle that in the depth of despair
and tragedy one should seek out the person who needs help. Even in the
darkest hour, find ways to do hesed, acts of kindness. Turn the
paralysis of grief and trauma to the positive of helping someone else,
even if it might be your final act. Perhaps these ideas are intuitive,
but all my life they have been a guide to how one can relate to times
of crisis.
Along with other Jewish intellectuals in the ghetto such as historian
Emanuel Ringelblum, he formed a secret group known as "Oneg Shabbos",
dedicated to preserving records of the life of the Jews in the ghetto
and testimonies of the Holocaust as it was ongoing.
In early 1943 these writings were buried in milk churns underneath the
ghetto. Rabbi Szapiro was murdered by the Nazis in November 1943 at
the Trawniki forced labour camp. Two out of the three caches were
discovered during the rebuilding of Warsaw after the war. In 1960,
surviving students of Rabbi Szapiro published his writings from the
Warsaw Ghetto under the title of Esh Kodesh - the Sacred Fire.
An innovative educator and passionate writer, as much as Rabbi
Shapiro’s words offer comfort and inspiration during times of darkness
and crisis, his very life and example also offer guidance. At a time
when it seemed as though the Jewish people had no future and were
doomed to be wiped out, he continued to live and work as though
tomorrow would always come.
The very act of preserving testimonies and burying them was an act of
hope that there would be survivors to find these hidden writings, that
the Holocaust would end and that the Nazis would eventually be
defeated. The sun would rise again, and there would be Jewish life
left in the world to rebuild and restore the remnant of the Jewish
people.
Which brings me to the upcoming Jewish holiday of Purim.
It's hard to think about celebrating any festival in Israel’s current
situation, let alone the raucous, joyous, silly season of Purim with
its dressing up and feasting.
Months of war, 134 hostages still held captive in Gaza, vast numbers
of bereaved families, thousands of war wounded, an entire nation still
deep in trauma and grief since October 7. Really, who has the stomach
now for parties, clowns and making merry?
And yet this complexity is precisely Purim. Purim isn't "carnival". It
isn't a celebration for celebration's sake, but a Jewish holiday
commemorating our deliverance from annihilation.
Purim is the story of Haman the Amalekite, who convinces the drinking
and carousing Persian emperor to let him carry out a plan of genocide
against the entire Jewish nation in the Persian empire - effectively
meaning the entire Jewish people, because the vast Persian empire
included all the Jewish population centres of the ancient world.
The ancient Persian legal system didn't even allow the Persian emperor
to simply overturn this horrific decree when Esther beseeches him to
save the lives of her people. He just can't. A decree issued by the
emperor and sealed with his ring of office cannot be revoked. The most
he can do is give permission to the Jews to defend themselves against
those who will be coming to massacre them.
Purim, despite being clothed in fun and silliness, is a story of Jews
successfully defending themselves against enemies set on genocide of
the Jewish people.
The ensuing celebration is not an easy one. Mordechai and Esther have
to instruct the Jewish people how to observe this festival of
Thanksgiving for their successful defeat of Haman's plot. In "the
month that turned from grief to joy, from mourning to a holiday, to
commemorate them as days of feasting and joy, giving food gifts to
friends, and gifts to the poor."
There is a difference between breathing a subdued sigh of relief at
being saved from certain destruction, and actively celebrating that
deliverance. A traumatised, exhausted people who have just had to
fight for their lives against murderous mobs can't necessarily see the
broad historical perspective. Without the guidance of Mordechai and
Esther, they might not have had the strength or vision to mark the
occasion.
Mordechai and Esther wanted the enormity of these events to be
remembered throughout the generations, to serve as a source of eternal
hope and faith that whatever dire straits the Jewish people might find
themselves in, whatever new Amalek might arise, the tables could be
turned.
To my mind, they were also looking to heal the deeply scarred and
traumatised Jewish people. The merriment, the emphasis on the
topsy-turvy turn of events, is a tool for helping the Jews of the
Persian empire release some of the pain and grief by focusing on
celebrating life and survival, by seeing the positive of their
successful defeat of those who sought their destruction and finding a
way to be joyful and thankful despite the horror of what they
experienced.
It's also interesting how Mordechai and Esther choose to commemorate
the events of Purim. Their instructions that people should hold joyful
feasts recall the lavish feasts of the decadent Persian emperor, too
busy with his own pleasure to even think twice about agreeing
initially to the mass murder of an ethnic minority in his realm.
Yet unlike the emperor's days-long extravaganzas of drinking and
partying, the celebrations Esther and Mordechai describe are fixed in
scope. They set a specific time for a persecuted people to release the
stresses of all they have just experienced, to let down their hair and
just let go. The Megilla tells the Jewish people to feast and be
joyful in remembering that Haman's evil plot was turned on its head,
not to engage in over the top parties and weeks of silliness and
abandon.
Yet they also understand that for many it was not the time for
celebration. Everything was too close, too raw. There were many Jews
who did not feel up to even modest feasting and joy. So they
emphasised that this commemoration of Purim must involve reaching out
to all sectors of the community with gifts of food, with donations to
those in need - including everyone, even those who were not ready or
able to join in the communal celebrations.
The entire community was saved on those miraculous days when, against
all odds, the Jews were allowed to fight for their lives and were able
to successfully defeat their enemies. As such, the entire community
needed to be included in giving thanks for that miracle.
Maybe all this is obvious, but to me this is one of the essential
lessons for Purim in our difficult times. We are traumatised and in
pain, but we need to also see the positive in our situation, to give
thanks for those doing good, to recognise the helpers and the
successes, even as we mourn our terrible losses and do all we can to
bring home our people who are still being held hostage in Gaza.
The essence of Purim isn't the dress-up, the drinking or the joking
around. It's an appreciation of the gift that the great power of the
day permitted the Jewish people to defend themselves in the face of a
genocidal plot and to save their own lives. It doesn't get more
existential to Jewish experience through the centuries than that.
And for those who don't feel like gathering with friends and family,
for whom October 7th is still too raw to engage in any kind of
feasting or celebrating, however modest, there are still plenty of
mitzvot of the day that are in the spirit of Purim, particularly
those which involve helping others.
Donate to "Smiles for the Kids'' to help bring joy to Israeli
children who are refugees or living in frontline communities. Visit hospitals,
or run Purim activities at a local retirement home, or offer to read
the Megilla for those who are housebound.
Make a modest Purim se'udah so that you can invite a new family in
your neighbourhood, or a recently-divorced or widowed friend and their
kids, or some elderly neighbours who live alone. There are so many who
need this kind of "hug", not just now, but especially now.
Mishloah manot isn't about grandiose gifting, themed baskets or baking
marathons. It's about seeing others in our community, maybe a
neighbour we aren't so close to but who is going through crisis, maybe
a miluim family or a socially awkward kid in your child's class, the
one people don't usually invite, or just an old friend you've lost
touch with or a relative who needs a boost. Even in our communities
which are full of kindness and love, there are still so many people
who are often "transparent". Mishloah manot is an opportunity to help
them feel seen.
To my mind, Mordechai and Esther and Reb Kalonimus Kalman Szapiro were
coming from that same perspective. During times of tragedy or in its
aftermath, take your grief, your trauma, your despair, and turn it
towards hesed and mitzvot, kindness and compassion.
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