Parashas Behaaloscha: To Stand at the Front You Need…

 This week’s parsha post will be rather quirky because, alas, I am still working my way through my pile of grading… It’s the raw side of being a teacher. Speaking of teachers, I see a particularly easy segue into this week’s Dvar Torah: How do we know that Moshe Rabbeinu was the first of Klal Yisrael’s teachers? It’s right there in pasuk 16:14 – “I cannot carry all this people by myself, for it is too much for me.” – Every teacher has days when they have just this feeling!

 In all seriousness, however, in the middle of Parshas Behaaloscha, after Bnei Yisrael are led by the eruv rav to want meat over manna, Moshe “heard the people weeping, every clan apart, at the entrance of each tent” (16:10). And he goes to Hashem fed up and frustrated. The people are too much…why? It isn’t their complaints specifically; Moshe knows that Hashem can do what ever is needed. It’s the complaining. It’s that when people get to that level of complaint, they are not able to be talked down – they aren’t able to see that they are being unreasonable.

 But, it’s also more than that. Moshe is an empath…Moshe feels their pain – his deep caring and empathy long proven beginning from the connection to the Israelite slaves even as he lived in the palace and through his days as a shepherd when he worried even after one little lamb. Imagine being an empath and all that feeling of urgent want coming at you. Moshe wants Bnei Yisrael to feel secure, which they expressively do not. He wants them to feel secure not just because it will make his life much easier, but because he KNOWS that there really is no better place to be than where they are at and they just can’t see it as he does. He wants them to understand the world with the Divinely guided senses that he has, and they can’t, and that hurts him.

 Hashem understands. Hashem sees that Moshe’s seeming anger is actually pain. And so Hashem tells Moshe: “Gather for Me seventy men from the elders of Israel of whom you have experience as elders and officers of the people, and bring them to the Tent of Meeting and let them take their place there with you.”

 Now I may be an English teacher, but mathematically speaking 70 doesn’t seem like quite enough to manage the needs of all of Bnei Yisrael. If there are 600,000 men of fighting age, then there are far more than a million in total… and just 70 elders plus Moshe. Also, if you hadn’t noticed, 70 is not divisible by 12, so it wasn’t as if Hashem was setting up a representational system in that every tribe had the same number of elders.

 Since I am an Engllish teacher, I will present a metaphoric idea. Seventy represents the bones of the nation.  In many ways, seventy is a continuum. It’s the multiplication of teva, nature, with infinity. Numerous commentaries bring down the correlation of the 70 elders to 70 descendants of Israel who came down to Egypt with Yaakov. What is important about that correlation? Over and over, Jewish society is built on 70. These were not the first seventy elders (though the first 70 died in Terebitha), and they were not the last (Indeed, did not Napoleon gather 70 rabbis plus one to try to form a new Sanhedrin!) But more than that, human civilization is built on 70. At the tower of Bavel, the Midrash says, Hashem split the people into 70 languages, and throughout the Midrash and aggadata we hear of the 70 nations.

 With Moshe and 70 elders, Hashem was laying down the foundation of building civilization, because a civil society needs a multi-faceted government. Everything cannot depend on one person or they either abuse that power or give up, the way Moshe feels in this perek, because there are so many different needs and different personality types and different ways of finding solutions. And 70 seems the perfect numerical unit for addressing this plurality of needs…an idea aligned with a statement in Bamidbar Rabbah – not connected to this particular perek – that reminds us that shivim panim bTorah, there are 70 faces to the Torah.

 This brings us to another concept brought down by quite a few commentators. Rashi attributes the idea to Sifrei Bamidbar. The commentary stems from the fact that Hashem did not literally say 70 men of the elders of Israel, He says 70 man – eesh – of the elders. He uses the singular. This, along with the description, “of whom you have experience as elders and officers of the people” lead us to understand that the men Hashem specifically had in mind were particularly unique, as Rabbeinu Bahya put it:  “G’d meant that Moses was aware that the people in question had demonstrated empathy for the people in Egypt absorbing physical punishment on their own bodies rather than inflicting it on their charges. The officers were the ones of whom we read in Shemos 5:14 that ‘they were beaten by their Egyptian counterparts’ for having displayed sympathy for the Jews they were in charge of. They had acquired experience in the qualities needed to deal with the people, and they had established a reputation for fair play.”

 Hashem saw that it was Moshe’s empathy that was causing him pain and frustration in dealing with the people, and while that did not feel so good for Moshe, it was exactly what made him a good leader. And Hashem wanted those who would share some of the burden of caring for Bnei Yisrael to have that quality to.

 It was, perhaps, Hashem reminding Moshe  - or the Torah reminding us all – of another fundamental concept. Hashem initially was going to create the world solely through His persona of Elokim – justice, but, before He began, He realized that a world based on justice, rules and laws, would not stand, and so He brought forth His attribute of rachamim, compassion. Moshe wanted help so Hashem sent him the necessary number 70 for setting up a court but made certain that those men were men of empathy, the critical characteristic of a true leader.

 And so, even as I face the chaos at the end of the school year and wonder how we survived the complaints and the challenges, I think back on my students and recognize the special and unique place they hold in my heart, and how I look forward to starting all over again next year… or I will look forward to that, just as soon as I finish these essays.

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An additional thought that came up as I was reading the pasuk: “Gather for Me seventy men from the elders of Israel of whom you have experience as elders and officers of the people, and bring them to the Tent of Meeting and let them take their place there with you.”

 I saw commentaries on the use of “lee” to Me, but as I read I was struck by the incredible compassion within Hashem’s response. He doesn’t say get these elders to help you for your sake. Hashem claims these elders. “Gather for Me.” And at the end of the pasuk, He says: vhityazvu sham eemach – they will take their place WITH you.

 At this moment of vulnerability for Moshe, Hashem doesn’t thrust another layer of leadership on him. He doesn’t say, “Okay, go form a committee to help you.” He tells Moshe to bring Him the men, that these elders will be His and that they will be WITH Moshe.

 It’s a subtle but profound lesson. When someone is overwhelmed, the solution is not to give them an additional level of responsibility…a lesson perhaps in the business world, but in day to day life – When someone is overwhelmed, don’t just tell them an organizational plan that they should implement – don’t add to their pile. Look to help them get out from being overwhelmed first. See the real problem going on.

 

Parshas Emor: Identity in the Unit

In the province of Quebec, when a couple gets married their names remain the same. From one perspective, this is a lot easier than all the paperwork to change one’s legal name after marriage. From a different perspective …it sometimes leads to other bureaucratic conundrums (so what name to I put on this cheque to pay my kid’s friend’s mom back!). While here in Quebec this is actually a legal matter, in other modern Western countries, many women make this choice as a statement of independence (which is different than those who do so because of an already developed career under their maiden name). From this week’s parsha, however, one may be able to extract a bit of perspective on marriage and independence.

 

Before discussing marriage, let us look at the end of Parshas Emor, where there is the story of Shelomith’s son who was stoned to death for blasphemy and cursing God. Put that way, the story sounds appropriately…biblical. Obviously cursing God is a grievous sin, particularly from someone who had lived through all of the miracles in Mitzrayim and the splitting of the Sea. But the story, or the way it is presented in the Torah, is a bit…odd:

“There came out among the Israelites someone who was the son of an Israelite woman and an Egyptian man. And a fight broke out in the camp between that half-Israelite and a certain Israelite man. The son of the Israelite woman pronounced the Name in blasphemy, and he was brought to Moses—now his mother’s name was Shelomith daughter of Dibri of the tribe of Dan—” (Vayikra 23:10-11).

 

The Midrash adds a great deal of important information that helps us understand exactly what the fight was about and why the nameless man was specifically described as the son of Shelomith. Let’s face it, not many people in the Torah are identified by their mother. To recap for those who are not familiar with the Midrash, as the son of an Egyptian, the blasphemer did not have a patrilineal line to connect him to a tribe. His mother, however, was from the tribe of Dan, and so they went to live among them. Some in the tribe felt he didn’t belong…and, well, one thing led to another. (If you’re interested on the Personal Parsha Prose insights on this Midrash… https://cthedawn.blogspot.com/2020/05/blog-post.html)

 

There are many aspects about this small section of Torah that are unexpected and interesting. The history that led to the situation is complex, but at the heart of it all is a critical idea that identity matters on a family level. In building a civilization, which is what the Children of Israel were doing (and which we must continue to do), who you are matters.

 

This is not to say that Bnei Dan were correct in evicting this man from their camp because he had no patrilineal line – that is a far more complex question. It is, however, a recognition of the fact that the Torah wants us to build cohesive units within the greater nation. The great monument to Hashem’s eternity that is Klal Yisrael is make up of units* and tribes and families and, eventually, individuals. But each individual has significance to the units they are part of.

 

This concept also appears earlier in the parsha when the Torah discusses the daughter of a Kohein: “If a priest’s daughter becomes a layman’s wife, she may not eat of the sacred teruma; but if the priest’s daughter is widowed or divorced and without offspring, and is back in her father’s house as in her youth, she may eat of her father’s food. No lay person may eat of it—" (22:11-12).

 

Now it is clear that the daughter of a kohein would be able to eat from the teruma while she was still part of her father’s household; and it makes sense that if she should be widowed or divorced and without children that she would likely return to her father’s household. If she returned to her father’s household, surely, she would have to be able to eat what the rest of her family ate. However, as the commentator Chizkuni points out, these verses teach us that while she is married to or the mother of those who are not kohanim, she does not have that status. She is fully part of the family and tribe of her husband and/or her children.

 

Many people in the modern era would take issue with this idea – that a woman’s “identity” should be absorbed into her husband’s identity. Afterall, women are powerful forces unto themselves, and the idea that a woman should take her place in society based on her husband is almost blasphemy (ok, I couldn’t resist). Sure, they would say, it made sense when a woman needed a husband to survive in the world, when the marriage partnership was divided between provider and nurturer, but today women are often the breadwinners, or at least the equivalent earners to their partners, and being independent is not a survival challenge.

 

The argument makes sense,,, when you are focused on the individual. The Torah, however, is focused on the community. The community is Klal Yisrael, it’s the tribe, and it’s the family. Marriage, from a Torah perspective, is a building of units. When two people get married, they become one unit and that unit must have solidarity in their identity. That concept in no way negates the importance of each woman’s sense of self, but it forms a necessary process in the raising of children, in the fostering of identity within a family unit, and in the recognition that the klal is what we are essentially building.

 

It is easy to get caught up in ideas of rightness when talking about identity. What other topic is so ripe for the argument of self-fulfilment? So much has changed in the last 150 years in the status of women and the socialization of men and women that it is terribly easy to immediately assess the Torah as ignoring a woman’s right to her own identity. That argument misses the larger picture because it leads to a false narrative. Independence and self-fulfillment are important – without question – but, to spin John Donne’s famous quote: no woman is an island.

 

I wish you all a wonderful and beautiful Shabbas and may you all feel yourselves included in the units of the nation.

 

*by units I mean the association of groups of Tribes together in the Midbar.

Parshas Acharei- Mos/Kedoshim – Holy Closed Circuit

You might have heard, here or there, that a big part of Jewish life is to be holy. Are you there? Yeah, me neither. The fact is that most of us must, must think of passages with commandments for being holy as sources of inspiration and aspiration. I am inspired to aspire to holiness. I want it, and, more than that, I want to want it even more. The ever-prevailing question, however, is how do I truly attain it?

 Talking about holiness is not new, and Parshas Acharei- Mos/Kedoshim is particularly well known for the conversation, for the repetitive instruction to be holy for Hashem is holy. The final such statement, in the penultimate pasuk, has, however, a slightly different tone to it: “And you all shall be to me holy-ones, for holy am I, Hashem; and I have set you apart from the nations to be for Me” (Vayikra 20:26).

 This isn’t the typical commandment to be holy. This is an existential statement about the Jewish nation. You are holy and you are separate from the nations and you are claimed. You, as a nation, cannot be any other way – people may fall away from the nation, but the nation will always be a holy core that is irrevocably attached to Hashem. It is almost like a closed circuit in which one thing leads to another that leads back to the beginning so that all must perpetually exist together. Rabbi Shimshon Refael Hirsh says: “God has breathed in us with the breath of life emanating from His holy being. This breath of God's holy nature is the cause of our ability to be holy, and the reason for our duty to be holy is against the holiness of God, to Whom we belong, Who has given us the command to be holy; and who only recognizes us being His as long as we do not deny our belonging to Him, but show it by striving to attain holiness.” 

Being holy isn’t easy. It’s about action, and thought, and motivation. It’s about understanding that being set apart from the nations is because in order to be what Hashem needs us to be, we have to be different. We have to have a unique identity as those who are striving to make the ultimate connection, which is not an easy job – and you’re welcome, nations of the world. We know this is not an easy job because this verse comes after a long string of commandments that show us how striving to be holy, to follow Torah, comes into every walk of life – whether that be eating or hiring employees or etc.

It should be noted that Rav Hirsh does not highlight Jewish exclusivity. In fact, quite the opposite, he says on this pasuk: “It is as one who first picks out the best from the lesser good and then goes on an on picking out the good ones; but one who picks the bad out of the good, throws the bad away, and has nothing more to do with them.” So that in no wise does Jewish thought look on the choice of Israel as a rejection of the rest of humanity. It regards the choice of Israel only as a beginning, only the restarting of the spiritual and moral rebuilding of mankind, only the first step to that future where many nations will attach themselves to God, and become His people, and Israel's sanctuary will not only be the central heart of Israel but the centre of mankind who will have found their way to God.”

 Being holy requires separation, but we can never forget our deeper mission, which is to be a light unto the nations to bring them to see Hashem in the world. They won’t always like us. They might often hate us. But Hashem made a promise, and it has remained true, that there is a Jewish nation that holds fast and strives with all of their might to give themselves to Hashem, to live truly holy lives – mind, body, and soul.

 Right now, in the 21^st century, we have many enemies among the nation longing to pull us away, knock us down, and even make us disappear. They will not succeed, and if we want to be part of the reason why, we must act – inside and out – in the path of Hashem.

 

Parshas Tazria- Metzorah – What is the Contagion?

When most people write about or discuss this week’s parsha, Tazriah/Metzorah, they immediately make it clear that the affliction most-often translated as leprosy is a spiritual affliction and not the unfortunate disease carried by the Mycobacterium leprae bacteria. Because of its sever physical manifestation, leprosy was, for most of history, a disease for which people were shunned – which makes it understandable why the disease symptoms described in parsha for which people were sent out the camp was so named. But everything in our mesorah makes it clear that the various types of tzaraas have nothing to do with bacteria or viruses.

 

One might, however, stop and wonder about Vayikra 13:45: ‘“As for the person with an affliction: their clothes shall be rent, their head shall be left bare, and their upper lip shall be covered over; and they shall call out, ‘Impure! Impure!’” Why is the matzroa covering his upper lip? Many answers are given, but the Ibn Ezra notes “He shall cover his upper lip so that he does not harm anyone with the breath of his mouth.”  Was there some sort of contagion to Tzaraas if it was a spiritual affliction?

 

Furthermore, it is most puzzling that the one who is suffering for having spread loshen hara is now meant to walk about shouting “Impure.” We know that lashon hara, gossip and rumors, are toxic particularly because they end up embarrassing someone and thus, from a theological construct, murdering them. So why does Hashem put the matzora in a position to embarrass himself unless he truly is a danger to someone else?

 

Let us take a step back and contemplate what brings a person to a state of a tzaraas affliction. Lashon hara – and lashon hara is generally the result of jealousy. To get to the point of a matzora, not just one with a suspicion of tzaraas, but truly stricken, one must have had a rather decent amount of ill-will.

 

The discussion of the matzora easily makes it seem that one who discovered themselves in this situation went out from the camp, did teshuva, and returned home. But sometimes it took longer than the set amount of days. Sometimes the Kohain declared that the matzora was not yet cured… It was not just that his physical affliction still remained. It was that the negative energy was still eating away at his soul. He was still jealous.

 

Perhaps when this matzora calls out that he is unclean, he is alerting anyone who nears him that he still has an urge to speak lashon hara. The dangerous element that the Ibn Ezra refers to is not germs as we think of them today, but the miasma of negativity, the inclination to feel that this situation in which he or she finds themselves is, perhaps, not really their fault or their responsibility.

 

Until the matzora does true teshuva, the matzora cannot be healed. True teshuva is not only repenting from the lashon hara and fortifying oneself not to do so again, but really, in one’s heart of heart, recognizing why it was done and letting go of what ever pain led the person down that road in the first place.

 

There is a pithy statement that acknowledging a problem is half the battle. Perhaps in the commandment that the matzora call out that he is unclean is the cure to that fact itself. Hashem understands human nature – obviously – and this is the manner is which a person can learn to face the truth of his/her own doing.

 

We don’t have tzaraas today, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have to work to take responsibility for our thoughts and feelings. In truth, however, it just means that it is a lot harder to do so.

 

Wishing you all a beautiful Shabbas and hatzlacha on the journey of self-improvement that is living Torah.

Parshas Tzav – For the All Nighter

 Parshas Tzav starts out with a seemingly straight-forward instruction: “And Hashem spoke to Moshe, saying: Command Aaron and his sons thus - This is the ritual of the burnt offering: The burnt offering itself shall remain where it is burned upon the altar all night until morning, while the fire on the altar is kept going on it” (Vayikra 6:1-2).

 

Why, one might ask, does the Torah that wastes no words, define the time the oleh is burned as “Kol halaylah ad haboker…all night until the morning”? When else does the night end if not in the morning? Why do these two extra words have to be added?

 

But wait, before that can be answered, one has to realize that the burnt offering was not an exclusively night activity. There were many different times when an “oleh” was brought, and, in fact, just three pasukim later is the instruction that in the morning, “The priest must kindle wood upon it every morning, and he must arrange the cut-up pieces of the morning daily ascent-offering upon it” (6:5).  The question therefore arises as to why Hashem began the laws of the oleh with instructions that it must be minded all night.

 

The evening offering of the oleh is the first of each day – remember: vayehi erev, vayehi boker. It is right that the offering made in the late evening or in the dark of night is explained first, but that does not explain the extra wording.

 

Now some people are what we call “night owls.” They can stay up all night, repeatedly. But they are not morning people. Perhaps Hashem wanted to give those night-owl Kohanim a job well suited to them. In truth, however, even the night owls rarely stay up ALL night, it just feels like they do.

 

Hashem included the term ad haboker because all night means all night. It does not say ad ayelet hashachar, until the crack of dawn, which could easily be assumed to be the start of morning. But that moment of ayelet hashachar actually precedes boker. Boker implies a time by which one can start to discern what things are because there is now light.  

 

Defining boker does not explain why Hashem included it in this pasuk. The Kli Yakar has several interesting thoughts on this pasuk (which I encourage you to go look up ), and he begins his commentary thus:

 

Command Aaron and his sons, saying. The term command [tzav] always implies urging, both immediately and for generations. Rabbi Shimon said: The Scripture needs to especially emphasize urging in situations where there is financial loss. Urging is only needed in places of laziness, and it is written ‘Laziness casts one into a deep sleep’ (Proverbs 19:15), and it is written ‘How long will you lie down, O lazy one?’ (Proverbs 6:9). Here, the commandment involves tending to the fire burning all night until morning, and there is concern that due to the natural laziness in people, one might fall into slumber and ruin the sacrifice (Translation from Sefaria).

 

The financial loss that the Kli Yakar is referring to is that the offering will be incomplete and thus ruined if the fire goes out. But the idea is acknowledging the challenge and risk of a statement of all night. Ad Haboker is a push, a definition that the kohein tending the oleh understands that he himself cannot define when “all night” is over. He must stay up and alert until the morning.

 

How is this relevant to us today? As a schoolteacher, I am often faced with the implied question of why an assigned work is necessary. Sometimes an assignment really isn’t necessary for a particular student to learn the lesson, but they need to do it anyway because they are learning a work ethic. Hereto, Hashem’s very specific command kol halayla ad haboker teaches us an ethic of diligence even when it is difficult.

 

It is particularly relevant as we near the seder, a moment in the Jewish calendar in which night time is highly relevant. There is an encouragement to stretch the seder far into the night  - but to eat the afikomen before halachic midnight – and that isn’t always easy for some people, especially after a very busy day of preparations. And this thought can help us, can inspire us, to stay diligent and alert throughout the seder. (Trust me, that’s a lecture to myself!)

 

I want to wish you all a beautiful shabbas and a chag kasher v’sameach, and may all of you in Eretz Yisrael have only seder night to be up all night. Let peace be upon you and no more horrid nights in bomb shelters.

Parshas Vayikra – Beautiful Bread

 Dedicated to a refuah shelaima for Masha Frayda bas Goldie, Chana Zelda bat Gittel Yita, Batya Dina bas Chava Tzivia, Chaya Sarah bas Esther Leah, Moshe Aaron ben Necha Itta, Binyamin ben Simcha, and Yaakov ben Esther Malka.

 

In just a few short weeks, the majority of the Jewish people (those not afflicted with gluten issues!) will be pondering the many ways we shall once again enjoy fresh hot challah or a steaming bagel while we stare at the lechem oni before us. “Bread of affliction” the Passover matzah is indeed to those of us who relish the taste, the feel, the sight, the smell … well, the everything of bread.

 

This is not, however, a Pesach Dvar Torah. This is a Dvar Torah on Parshas Vayikra, but within this first parsha of the third sefer of the chumash, the love of bread is easily recalled. The second perek of Parshas Vayikra discusses the mincha offering. The first description of the mincha offering is that of grain – of choice flour – that, after wetting it with oil, the Kohain can scoop up and “poof” into the fire so that it goes up in smoke. There are, however, two other types of mincha offering that are immediately described: a grain offering baked in an oven and a grain offering prepared on a griddle.

 

There are many reasons why a person might bring prepared grain as opposed to loose flour for their offering – perhaps it was easier to transport. It is interesting, however, that the verses describing the pre-prepared offerings are followed by an unobtrusive instruction: “Break it into bits and pour oil on it; it is a grain offering” (Vayikra 2:6).

 

It’s such a simple line and such a no-big-deal commandment, and yet there remains the question of why. What is significant about these offerings that in order to be properly offered on the mizbayach, they must be destroyed?

 

As noted earlier, bread is a funny thing. It is incredibly simple to make, perhaps the simplest food on earth, and yet it is a food that people revel in, indulge in…fight their tayva for! Bread represents basic survival, and bread represents indulgence and comfort. The simplest form of bread is a combination of flour and water – that is not the mincha offering. A mincha offering is a little more elevated than simple bread as it is always a combination of flour and oil – even the mincha soles, the poof of flour into the flame, is flour with oil.

 

Flour is necessity, but oil is comfort. Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch says (on Vayikra 1:1) that flour is “generally used as the basic idea of food, of nourishment, as a symbol of the necessities of life, can be accepted without further proof, and to bring flour as a mincha as a sign of homage, would express the idea that the condition for our very existence lies in the hands of Him to Whom the sign of homage is brought. If oil is added… to the general conception of simply ‘nourishment’ is added the idea of ‘comfort.’” Adding Frankincense, as is done in the case of the mincha soles, moves it from comfort to luxury. In his commentary on verses 4-7, Hirsh posits that the mincha offering expresses acknowledgement to God for food, comfort, and satisfaction.

 

Bread is a miraculous food, and it is the ultimate partnership between Hashem and mankind because Hashem provides the seed, the kernal, that mankind transforms into sustenance. Think about the process of making bread. In truth, it seems almost miraculous that any human ever figured it out… hmm, if I just crush this little hard bit down a lot and add some water and then throw that in the fire!

 

Of course, mankind took things a step or three further. We make our bread beautiful (just think of the challahs of your Shabbas table) and we give meaning to our bread. We take pride in “putting bread upon the table.” Thus, we might also note that bread, as much as it is symbolic of Hashem’s gift of food, also represents mankind’s hubris, the desire to say: “Look what I’ve accomplished.”

 

The idea that bread can represent pride is particularly interesting when one notes that the prepared mincha offerings are called matzah in the Torah. They are unleavened. We think of matzah and immediately, according to so many discussions from early education on, we consider matzah to already be humble, to not have risen as chametz does. But the unleavened offering of the mincha was not the matza of Pesach, the lechem oni – the bread of affliction/the poor man’s bread. Pesach matzah is bread and water, and a touch of salt, I believe. But the mincha included oil. It was richer. It was enticing. It was the taking of sustenance and bringing it to the next level.

 

This leads back to Vayikra 2:6 and the commandment to break apart the mincha offering before it goes into the fire on the alter. The mincha soles, the basic flour offering, although mixed with both oil and frankincense, is bread before it is bread, The bread or griddle cake that was brought was “completed” by human hand and breaking it is a reminder of the miraculous nature of bread, as sustenance, as gift from Hashem.

Purim 5786

Purim Thoughts 5786

There is one element of the Purim story that has always bothered me, and it seems relevant in multiple ways at this time. Achashverosh is the king from hodu ad kush. He has the power to, on the spur of the moment, execute the queen - the one who is actually of royal blood - and then declare laws about wives obeying husbands...but he isn't allowed to reneg his permission for people to attack Jews?! The best he can do is declare permission for Jews to defend themselves?

This just seems...odd. It wasn't like he had a Parliament or Congress  (or a National Assembly) to answer to. He was an absolute monarch who could spend the nation's treasury on a 180 day party!

But, as with so many concepts in our Jewish lives, that discussed in antiquity takes a suddenly new and jarring meaning when looked at from where we are in technology. For instance, al kanfei nesharim seemed like a fantastical idea - people flying from the four corners of the earth (which, of course, has no corners) is no longer so fantastical in an age of airplanes.

So why wasn’t Achashverosh’s power so all-powerful? Social media has amplified what has always been true, what we have always “mosheled” (did I just create a new verb?) about lashon harah - once an idea is released, it is nearly impossible to undo. Achashverosh’s terrible letters went out, and those who had reason to hate Jews not only had time to put preparations into place, but to spread their insidious hate. They had time to wear-down the basic morality most people probably had wherein they knew it would be wrong to attack their neighbors. They had time to revise history and to de-humanize. 

How easily we have seen that once a story hits the news (Israel bombs hospital!) it is nearly impossible to discredit it. It’s been published, so it must be real. And even in the 21st century when we are all so acutely aware of the trappings of the internet and social media, most of us fall for it anyway. 

It wasn’t as simple as Achashverosh being unable to revoke a decree he had passed. It was that trying to revoke that law would have proven near impossible. Months of energy that had gathered behind their preparations to attack the Jews could not be undone in so short a time period – but the tables could be turned and the Jews could defend themselves.

When I was in my 20’s and first did a close reading of the Megillah, I was horrified at the numbers killed on Purim - 75,000… not Jews, but our enemies. What is easy to forget, when looking at figures, is that the people who were killed were those who came to attack. The Jews were given permission to “assemble and fight for their lives; if any people or province attacks them, they may destroy, massacre, and exterminate its armed force together with women and children, and plunder their possessions” (8:11).

That was the power of the underground campaign. Even knowing that the king had permitted the Jews to defend themselves, tens of thousands were still willing to attack because their hatred had taken over both their morality and their sense of self preservation!  Were the instigators all Amaleck, like Haman Ha’Agagi? Perhaps - but even in the time of Esther, those lineages were already blurred and the ability to fulfill the commandment of wiping out Amaleck was no longer contemplatable because we could not tell who was Amaleck (except, you know, the guy flaunting the Agagi title). 

We live in a world today where we can watch hate spread. And I feel I must be blunt and say that that is a two way street as well - there are plenty of Jewish “influencers” who create anger against others forgetting that we can no longer cast blanket statements on the character of nations since we can no longer truly identify the 70 nations. 

In the last few years, we have all watched in amazement and horror how anti-Semitism has become more acceptable and how easily people not only look the other way but find reasons to excuse or accept it. And while the answer in the Purim story came from a miracle of reversals, we must follow the lessons of Megillas Esther. We must be clear in who our enemy is - as Esther articulated about Haman. We must stay calm and set the stage up to be heard properly - as Esther does when she invites the king and Haman to a private party. We must turn to Hashem and daven - as she asked the Jewish nation to do.

I wish you all a frielichen Purim and may we all come to understand the miracles hidden in our time and let them draw us closer to Hashem.

This Dvar Torah was written in honor of my father’s yahrtzeit today: Avraham Ephraim Beryl ben Yaakov HaLevi.