Parshat Vayikra  11 Adar 2 5763, 15 March 2003

By Shlomo Riskin

Efrat, Israel - Purim is the holiday least representative of what Judaism generally represents, most "out of sinc" with usual Jewish standards and practices. After all, the heroine of the Megillah story is Esther, a beautiful Jewish woman brought up in the house of Mordecai the Jew (even member of the Sanhedrin), who allows herself to be taken to the palace of the gentile King Ahashveros as his favored Queen! And our Sages go so far as to teach that "it is a mitzvah" for every person to drink on Purim until he can no longer distinguish between praising Mordecai and cursing Haman" (B. T. Megillah 7a). What about all of our prohibitions against intermarriage, the most obvious expression of Jewish assimilation into the host culture in the land of our exile?! And what about the fundamental commandment, "Thou shalt be holy." (Leviticus 19:1), and the call to sobriety implicit in the Divine command to Aaron, "Wine and meat you shall not drink, neither you nor your sons with you, when you enter the Tent of Meeting so that you not die" (Leviticus 10:9)?!

I believe we will gain deeper insight into the message of the Purim story and celebration when we ponder another aspect of the flavor and texture of the holiday: Purim is the Jewish mardi gras, the day in which everyone dresses up in costumes, when we even relax the general prohibition of a male dressing up as a female or a female dressing up as a male. True understanding of the significance of this mode of Purim celebration will come when we consider the very first Biblical personality who put on a mask, who masqueraded as someone else.

That individual was none other than Jacob - Israel, the most chosen of the Patriarchs, the father of the twelve tribes. He allowed his mother Rebecca to place goat-skins on his hands and neck, he donned the clothes of his elder twin brother, and he stood before his father Isaac pretending to actually be his elder brother Esau. He put on the Esau-Mask in order to receive the birth-right from his father, a birth-right which he believed he rightfully deserved - for three cogent reasons. First of all, the Divine message had informed Mother Rebecca during her difficult pregnancy that "the elder shall serve the younger;" secondly because Esau had sold the birthright to Jacob for a bowl of lentil soup; and thirdly because Esau had scorned the cardinal family rule by marrying two Hittite wives! Jacob was certainly convinced that he was temporarily masquerading in the external garb of Esau in order to receive what was really supposed to be his in the first place.

Indeed, it may have been the case that father Isaac wanted proof that Jacob 'had the ability to lead the family, that he was not merely a retiring and naive dweller in the tents and the study-halls, but that, if necessity required it, he could be an aggressive hunter, a courageous warrior, a smooth-tongued politician. After all, Isaac understood from the Covenant between the Pieces which G-d had communicated to Abraham that history would not always treat the Israelites with kindness and respect! And so Jacob put on an Esau mask - and thereby received the birthright-blessings from his father as the leader of Israel.

But then something happened. The Latin word for mask is persona - and personality is the face which we present to the outside world. A prominent sociologist once wrote that there are four "yous": who you are, who you think you are, who others think you are, and who you would like others to think you are. Sometimes, even oftentimes, we forget to remove our temporary masks and we become the very people we had pretended to be, for good or for ill. This is precisely what happened to father Jacob. And so when young Jacob goes off to Labanland he takes his mask with him, and he assumes the very oppressive combative and manipulative persona which was the essence of Esau. The voice of Jacob is stilled for 22 years, until he exorcises Esau from within his personality and returns to his father's house and his true self.

Purim is our galut (exile) holiday, telling the story of the precarious state of Israel (and humanity) in a world devoid of the eminent presence of G-d, the tragic unfolding of history as connecting one incident of coincidence and happenstance after another. The very name Purim means lots, the roll of the dice; the very term Megillah means to be exposed and vulnerable; the very medium of Iggeret (letter) - the Scroll of Esther is written as an iggeret rather than a book (sefer) - suggests transience, impermanence, insignificance. Under such alien conditions everyone needs a protective coat - a masquerade costume, if you will - for some kind of protection. Esther, therefore, must wear the outer mask of Ahashveros' queen, and Mordecai must don the ministerial robes of the King's advisor. In the true reality of inner essences, however, the Almighty is weaving the tapestry of redemption from behind the curtains of the stage of history, Mordecai is paving the way for the destruction of evil tyranny, and Esther is the savior of her people.

Why do we drink on Purim? Our Sages teach us that the true individual, his real inner essence, is revealed when he is angry, when he must spend money, and when he is under the influence of drink. In an unfair world of manipulative Esaus and tyrannical Hamans, we must often wear the external mask of aggression and warfare for necessary self protection. But it is crucial that what emerges when we drink is the essence of our truest selves, the real "us" which has not been submerged by the masquerade, the voice of Jacob which speaks only of love and peace. In the words of the sweet lyricist of Israel, "To G-d in my travail do I call out, so that He may answer me. G-d save my (inner) soul from (my) lying lips and a deceptive tongue... for too long a time has my soul dwelled with enemies of peace. I am peace - and when I speak (words of aggression) it is only because they are dedicated to war" (Psalms 120).

Shabbat Shalom.

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