The Light

La’yehudim hayta ora v’simha, “The Jews had light and joy” during the celebration of Purim.

So does this mean that our ancestors lit fires in their homes, kindling every wick available?  Not likely.  

Light has many associations.  A few of them have to do with physical light.  A great many of them have to do with sacred or metaphysical light.  Torah, for example, gives off light.  Torah Orah, they call it, the illumination of the sacred.

When immersed in Torah the Sanctuary becomes bathed in light.  Have you ever witnessed the faces of those in the Sea of Light?  It is not unusual to see someone aflame on the holy Shabbat.

As we pore over ancient texts on Shabbat or during the week sometimes feel the dizzying effect of absorbing the many layers of the meaning of the glory of the Torah when at one with the holy Text.  This is the wonder of the day of Purim. Like the initial observance when the Jews of Shushan long-ago first breathed freedom from the heinous machinations of Haman, their souls were drenched with light.

Long ago, when the Jews were under the Ottoman rule in Palestine the inhabitants of the northern city of Safed were warned to keep their homes dark at night.  Each evening a blanket of bluish hue gathered through the ancient street and byways of Safed.

The windows of Rabbi Joseph Caro, however, glowed. It as was if the venerable and wise rabbi became more defiant as the light grew in intensity with successive night.  The Pasha’s guards brought to him news of the disobedient Jew.

Ordering his carriage to be brought, the Pasha rode to the site to oversee the punishment of the transgressor himself.  It was true, the rabbi’s windows were glowing with light.  Forcing open the door, the Pasha’s guards opened the door to let the Pasha enter. 

There sat Rabbi Caro bent over a fraying text.  There was no lamp in the room.  No logs were in the fireplace.  No candles. Yet the room was bathed in light.

The Pasha was wide-eyed as he saw thousands of tiny fireflies lining he walls of the rabbi’s study.  The sage told the pasha that during the day the little insects flew about but at night they settled on the walls and made the house luminescent.

“Why do these fireflies stay all day in this room rather than frolic in the bright sunlight?” the Pasha asked.

The rabbi paused, looked at the Pasha and answered, “The Torah not only illumines the one who studies it.  It enlightens every living creature that comes near.”

 

And this is your heritage.

 

Keep it Lit

Candles are small, almost insignificant in the incandescent lights shining from above.  Yet, when the lights are turned off they become defiant flames railing against the darkness.  That is the meaning of these tiny wicks aflame with fire.  They illume the darkness nights of the year with hope.

Two thousand two hundred years ago pagans overran the Temple in Jerusalem.  Filth and unholy totems filled what once was the place of the Divine.  The Maccabees fearlessly waged a war against the empire.  With few weapons and warriors but an abundance faith and hope the Maccabees defeated the idolaters, cleansed the Temple and relit the long extinguished lights of the Menorah.  With only enough precious oil to kindle the lights for one day they miraculously burned for eight nights.

To this day we light eight candles as reminders of the faith of the just.  The first light represents the tireless fight against injustice.  It calls us to waken and combat against the looming darkness of ignorance, apathy and godlessness.  It is a stubborn but resilient light that paves the way to illumination that grows with each passing day.  Such a small flicker gives us a sense of hope when we feel hopeless.

On each successive night to Hanukkah the flames grow bolder.  That is why we light two candles on the second night, three on the third and so on.  Once we have taken the first steps towards being true to our faith and G-d our inner resolve becomes stronger as we advance into more and more light. 

It is said that when the Holy Temple was recovered from the Hellenist forces the flames grew ever brighter with each passing day.  So it is on this Hanukkah.  So it is in our souls that reflect the light of the Menorah.

The holiday calls to our sacred soul to find G-dly nourishment in the light of the Almighty.  When we call upon the light, the Holy One fans the inner flames and helps them to grow exponentially.

New Thoughts on Purim: Light vs. Dark

The Sitra Ahra, or Dark Side as it is referred to popularly, is present at all times.  It particularly loves opportunities of mazel.  Mazel?  Yes, you see whenever the Sitra Ahra gets wind of someone’s good fortune it whispers in their ear all kinds of noxious thoughts….like “They’ll take it away from you”….or  “Why are they being nice to me?  What they want?”….or “God likes me -- but not them.”  Not happy with our lot, afraid that others might steal it away, we listen to the quiet voice of the Sitra Ahra.

Now this is one of the main hidden elements of the Purim tale.  Think of the primary villain of the megillah.  Haman’s name itself conjures up many associations.  For example, Haman connotes “the manna” (man in Hebrew is manna).  Haman appeared to Shushanites as the one who would feed the people.  And precisely what did Haman feed them?  Insecurity and doubt.  Haman stealthily fed enough poison so that the subjects would believe their existence was threatened by a “certain people” almost invisible, yet lurking in the dark shadows.  What Haman purported to deliver through the veil of darkness was a sustenance that would uncloak the messenger of destruction.

If Haman is the symbol of the Sitra Ahra then who are the heroes of the story? Esther and Mordecai?  Of these two figures Mordecai is the easier.  He is the voice of God.  Mordecai speaks the language of truth.  His words are uncomfortable.  They are unsettling.  Mordecai tells all who will hear him what they must do to unmask the lie.  The words cause such discomfort that no one wants to heed him.  Wasn’t this the reality of the pre-Holocaust Germany?  The lie was more comfortable, more acceptable than the truth which demanded self-reflection and personal responsibility. 

In fact, found inside Mordecai’s name is the Hebrew root, m’red, meaning rebellion.  An interesting inversion of reality: Haman is the provider and Mordecai is the inciter, the trouble-maker.  The lie has become truth and truth has become the lie.

Then comes Esther.  The root of Esther’s name is ‘secret’.  That is, Esther is hidden from sight. True, she hides her faith from the king but that is not the core of the narrative.  What reaches out from the megillah is the fact that Esther is hidden from Esther.  Remember, Esther is not even her real name: it is Hadassah.  Esther has forgotten who she is/was.  The turning point of the story is when Mordecai forces Esther to look sharply into the mirror of her soul and she perceives her Self there.  She has become so convinced of the force of the Sitra Ahra that she has accepted the lie as reality.

Images of light and dark pervade the extraordinary and simplistic tale of Purim.  Yet, the tale is as vital as the primal force of life.  Listen for the voice but do not heed it.