Louis Newman – Between Purim and Pesach
As I write this, Purim is just a month away, followed a short month later by Pesach. Rabbi Allen recently reminded us to begin thinking about our Purim costumes and we know that soon Mendota Megillah Madness will strike again. But the frivolity of Purim rapidly gives way to the intense seriousness of talking about slavery and redemption. It seems to me that the juxtaposition of these two holidays conveys a message about who we are as Jews, and as members of Beth Jacob.
Purim is the quintessential holiday of unbridled joy, of silliness and even of drinking until we can no longer remember the difference between Mordecai and Haman. It is a time to celebrate those unexpected turns of fate by which the Jews in Shushan were spared from destruction. The heroes of this tale are Mordecai and Esther, who take matters into their own hands and help unravel Haman’s plot. It is noteworthy that God nowhere appears in the story. Purim is the holiday where we celebrate our own cleverness, where we affirm that we must become the masters of our own fate in a world that is indifferent, or even hostile, to our existence.
Passover, by contrast, is the ultimate holiday that affirms God’s role in our lives. It is God’s “strong hand and outstretched arm” that moves us along in history. Our whole story as a people begins here, with God’s decision to intervene in overthrowing a despotic Pharaoh, and then to bring us to Sinai and give us the Torah. There is joy here too, of course, but it is a sort of “solemn joy” in which we acknowledge that innocent Egyptians had to be killed to secure our freedom, and in which we remember that, in a sense, even this year we are slaves. Next year we hope to be truly redeemed.
As Jews we live our lives, I think, between the reality of Purim and of Pesach, between what we do by our own hands and what God does for us, between celebrating the victory we have just secured and remembering that the ultimate goal is always in the future. From my vantage point as president of our congregation, it seems to me that we have internalized the lessons of both Purim and Pesach.
First, on the level of activities. We are a playful, fun-loving community, and this is never more apparent than during Purim (though Simhat Torah would be a close second!) These are the times when our creative energy, our embrace of the young and the young-at heart, is evident. It is no wonder that many non-members show up on these holidays, knowing that at Beth Jacob we really know how to celebrate. But we are a serious community, as well, one in which Torah study, social justice and meaningful davening are deeply woven into the fabric of our congregational lives. We are engaged in serious exploration of our tradition and committed to making it our own. We take our tradition seriously, but we don’t take ourselves too seriously. We go crazy at Purim and we delve deeply into the story of our people at Pesach.
More importantly, though, as a community we have learned to strike a balance between action and faith. On the one hand, it is hard to find a congregation with a higher level of participation, a greater willingness to volunteer, than this one. Nearly every week, I find myself asking someone to do something for the shul. And with remarkable consistency, people respond positively. We know that this congregation depends on our ongoing, active involvement. Compare any issue of Kol Yaakov or any weekly email with similar publications of synagogues two or three times our size and you will recognize, as I have, how fortunate we are to have such a high level of activity. We are the builders of our own community and the defenders of a vibrant Jewish identity against all the forces in society that would tend to undermine our distinctiveness and sense of purpose.
And we are also a congregation with a profound sense of faith. I don’t mean that we necessarily have faith in the omnipotent God of the Exodus story. I mean rather a faith or trust (the real meaning of emunah) that our little congregation can do great things. Our building is not impressive, and our bank account is even less so. We are located far from the great centers of Jewish life in this country. And yet—in no small part because of Rabbi Allen’s dynamic leadership—we have dared to dream big. Not unlike a rag-tag group of slaves who believed that they could leave behind the most powerful empire in the ancient world, go off into the desert, and become a people, we believe that we are destined to be a source of creativity and blessing to the world around us, both the Jewish community and the larger community. And, as we affirm each year at Pesach, we believe that our best days are still ahead of us.
This year, as you celebrate both Purim and Pesach, I hope that you will reflect on the meaning of these holidays in the context of your membership in our congregation. Be wild on Purim; drink in the meaning of Pesach deeply at your seder tables. And let both experiences lead you back to active, and faithful, engagement with our community.
Hag kasher v’sameach,
Louis Newman
President