Joy And Vigilance In The Month Of Adar

Joy And Vigilance In The Month Of Adar

By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

March 2, 2017

The Talmud teaches: “When the month of Adar enters [March/April in the Hebrew calendar], we increase in joy.”  Rashi explains: “Because they are days of miracles, like Purim and Pesach.”

Miracles are wonderful, and certainly reason for rejoicing; however, they also imply rescue from past or impending disaster.  Passover celebrates our redemption from slavery in Egypt, but not before the genocide that Pharaoh perpetrated on our people. Purim, too, reminds us of the last-minute turn of events when Haman’s plans to exterminate all Persian Jews were overturned, and sorrow turned to joy.

The memory of these miracles is why we celebrate Purim and Passover (in fact, the exodus from Egypt is a miracle we remind ourselves of every Friday evening, during Kiddush).  But the fact is that had a miracle not happened, the Jewish people would not be here today. Both Passover and Purim are thus preceded by a day of fasting, to remind ourselves how close we came to actual destruction. 

The popular adage about Jewish holidays is, “They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat.” I’ve never felt comfortable with this glib comeback.  Yes, eating (in fact, feasting!) is definitely associated with the holidays. But when we look only at that, when we focus on the feast and not the fast, we miss the entire purpose of the holiday.  With food and wine comes relaxation, even forgetfulness. When the cause for alarm is gone, it’s OK to return to life’s easy, carefree pleasures.

This message, however, is misleading.  For us Jews, the danger is never completely gone. In the decades since the Holocaust, American Jews have perhaps gotten too complacent, and so now, as we hear about renewed threats and violence, we are shocked.

The fact is, in the last few weeks and months we have seen a sharp rise in anti-Semitism, both globally and locally. The phenomenon has become so alarming that Malcolm Hoenlein, who heads the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations, recently spoke of anti-Semitism as “taking on potentially ‘pandemic’ dimensions.” In an interview with The Times of Israel, Hoenlein continued, “We saw anti-Semitism in Britain, we saw it in France, and now we see it’s spreading everywhere…  Look at the numbers of incidents in Germany, Scandinavia and other parts of the world.  And now we see in America swastikas being painted, other expressions [such as phoned-in] threats or aggression against kids on campuses.  So it spreads.  It’s not isolated to one geographic locale.  It’s like a virus that spreads. And you have to declare it for what it is.”

Hoenlein spoke only hours before scores of headstones were kicked over and desecrated in a Jewish cemetery in his own hometown, Philadelphia.

Coming a mere 72 years after the Shoah, the greatest calamity to befall the Jewish People in centuries or even millennia, many Jews now feel that there is cause for alarm. 

The question is what to do about it.

In the United States, these threats come from several sources.  Not restricted to just one political party or another, they come from the liberal left as well as from the conservative right. 

Sadly, the social and political picture in America today is one in which whole communities are riven.  There is little or no center ground.  Friendships, alliances and even families are torn along deep ideological divides.

This does not bode well for the Jewish community.

In the story of Purim, as Queen Esther prepares herself for the dangerous step of appearing unsummoned before the king, she calls upon the entire Jewish population to fast.  For the Jewish people, fasting has always been associated with national mourning. In ordering the entire community to fast, Esther hopes to unite them, to prepare them for whatever might befall next.

A similar unification might be appropriate for Jews today, both in the United States and globally.

Armed self-defense hasn’t always been an option for us, and hopefully we won’t have to resort to such extreme behavior any time soon (the Jewish community in the State of Israel excepted, of course).  In the rest of the civilized world, we have legal and social recourse that we can rely on.  Now, today, before the threats turn to actual violence, is the time for us to call, write or email our government representatives and other community leaders.  As one, we must all declare: There is no room in America—or anywhere else on earth, for that matter—for anti-Semitism.

This is our strength:  In America we may not always agree with one another, but at times of trouble we are there for each other.  We saw that recently as Muslims, Jews, Christians and many others gathered to repair the vandalized Jewish cemetery in St. Louis.  We feel encouraged by the quick response taken by the FBI in launching an investigation of the vandalism at the cemetery in Philadelphia.  We applaud the response of the President of the United States in his recent speech before Congress, addressing this kind of vandalism within the first moments of his address.

New Hampshire Jews, perhaps more than others, have enjoyed relative safety in our beautiful state.  That is, until recently.  Well, we can no longer sit quietly and pretend that what we are seeing all around isn’t happening here, to us. 

That, more than any other, is the biggest message of Purim for me. When Mordechai urges Esther to step up in defense of the Jewish people, he cautions her against the delusion that, due to her high position at the court, she would be spared when others of her faith are attacked.  Our entire history bears witness to the terrible and tragic fate of countless Jews who felt that remaining quiet and keeping a low profile would keep them safe.

“They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat.” 

Not so fast, people.  “They” haven’t stopped trying, and now is not a time for us to feast and forget.  Rather, now is a time for unity, for action and prayer.

The Scroll of Esther, for all its buffoonery and mischief, may be a satire.  But hidden behind the laughter is an important message.  Miracles are indeed wonderful; but without constant care and vigilance, without courage and heroism, I doubt there would be much of a story to tell our children and grandchildren.

May we learn to follow the heroic example of Mordechai and Esther, and may the month of Adar continue to bring joy and light to all of us, today as in the past, and for many generations to come.