It feels inappropriate to be celebrating Purim this year. A lot of us phoned it in.
What does Purim mean, when the whole world is v’nahafoch hu?
Today is Purim in Jerusalem. (Most of the rest of the world celebrated it yesterday; today is just for walled cities.)
Purim is a fairytale-like Jewish holiday with a convoluted plot line, involving a dim king, an evil antisemitic vizier, and a beautiful princess and her wise uncle who together save the Jewish kingdom. The story is “v’nahafoch hu”- inverted, topsy-turvey, upside down.
So read today’s update while drinking your cafe afuch, Israeli latte, or “upside-down” coffee, from the same ‘v’nahafoch hu’ root (because the milk goes in the wrong place on the bottom, and the espresso upside down on top.) With the whole world upside down right now, it seems highly appropriate.
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One of the themes in the Purim story concerns Amalek. Amalek is the almost-mythical enemy nation of the Israelites, the descendants of Esau and Haman, that attack us without provocation, an enemy that is a hydra that can never be exterminated, who pops up in every generation. Amalek is the paradigm of the enemy of the Jews, the archetype of evil. (On Purim, when the story is read aloud in synagogue, it is customary to twirl your graggers, noisemakers, every time Haman’s name is read in the tale, symbolically drowning out the name of Amalek, this eternal enemy.)
There is an argument about what Israel is meant to do about Amalek. Most modern scholars and religious leaders are clear on the fact that, since we can no longer with certainty identify Amalek today, any commandments about them are irrelevant, so this entire discussion is now theoretical.
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There are two understandings about what is meant to happen with Amalek.
The first is that they must be simply and totally wiped out. In the Talmud (Sanhedrin 20b) Israel is commanded, upon entering Israel, to wipe out the remnants of Amalek. It is both a communal commandment for the people, and an individual mitzvah. The Bible itself says this: “Attack Amalek, spare no one.” (Samuel 1, 15:3)
The second understanding, more palatable to modern interpreters, is that it is God’s responsibility to take care of killing Amalek: Our obligation is to remember, and blot out the memory: “Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey from Egypt” (Deuteronomy 25:17) and “Blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget.” (Deuteronomy 25: 19).
But the Torah seems to be asking us to do two (or three) seemingly contradictory acts: Remember, don’t forget, and blot out the memory. (It’s a similar conundrum to how we can observe and listen, shamor v’zachor, in that order.) Remember and don’t forget. How can we do both? In our minds, or with our words, or actions?
And specifically, what is it about Amalek that we are meant to both remember and forget?
Is it just reminding us that there is evil in the world, for which we must always be on the alert, as it is our responsibility to eradicate evil?
Or is it not external evil? Is it evil within?
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What I keep coming back to is whether Amalek - like Hamas, which sounds so very much like Purim’s villain, “Haman” - is actually a people - or whether it is an idea, a concept.
Maybe the lesson of Purim - and the reason we must leave it in God’s hands to destroy - is that Amalek is an idea. And maybe it’s not so easy to destroy ideas.
It is telling that we never successfully eliminated the idea of Nazism, or antisemitism.
On the other hand, as Rabbi Tarfon in the Jewish Pirke Avot, Ethics of our Fathers, tells us, just because we are not required to finish the work, doesn’t mean we are immune from starting it.
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V’nahafoch hu.
A folk legend tells us about a riddle posed by King Solomon, exposing the very definition of v’nahafoch hu:
“What same words can you say to a happy person to make them sad, or to a sad person to make them happy?"
You can say: “Gam zeh ya’avor - this, too, shall pass.”
This, too, shall pass.
Happy Purim, even if you have to phone it in.
Photo:
Purim in Kiryat Shemona, near the Lebanese border. 150,000 Israeli citizens are displaced from their homes in the north because of Lebanese aggression and missiles fired into Israel. These families never had a chance to take down their sukkahs — from the holiday in October.