Tuesday 4 March 2014

The "Open-Secret" of Purim

N.B. Thank you to Christine for her exceptionally helpful notes (my own were illegible, especially on cue cards) and to Aish Western for hosting such interesting classes and offering insightful reading material.

In The Novel and the Police (1988), D. A. Miller presents a powerful idea regarding Victorian novels: that “the secret subject is always an open secret” (205). Essentially, we – as readers – know that the novel’s secret(s) is (are) known, but we persist in guarding it (them) nonetheless.

For example, Elizabeth Braddon’s Lady Audley’s Secret (1862). The reader is led to doubt Lady Audley’s madness, despite all evidence to the contrary. We learn that her mother was mad, that madness is termed a “hereditary disease”, and that madness primarily comes about in females (remember: this is a nineteenth century text). However, the novel also provides counter-evidence to her madness: her bigamy (Lady Audley’s “secret”), her act of arson and attempted murder all count as crimes in the legal sense and are motivated by a kind of calculated and rational self-interest. Yet, the novel’s conclusion results in her being pronounced mad and tossed into a ‘mad house’. According to Miller, the novel’s secret is not whether or not Lady Audley is mad, but that she must be treated as such. The secret that which is not named: society’s inability to deal with the possibility that Lady Audley is not out of her mind, but very much of sound mind. How could society conceive (conceal, categorize) such a being?

According to Oscar Wilde, secrets are the thing “that can make modern life mysterious and marvelous. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it.”

By shrouding every day events in mystery, they – despite their otherwise banality or seemingly coincidental appearance – suddenly become all the more interesting. We wish to decipher them all the more.

In fact, the “open secret” has a long-standing place in Judeo-Christian thought. In Religio Medici (1643), Sir Thomas Browne describes nature as an open mystery, a mystery-religion paradoxically open to humankind. Essentially, nature becomes an “open book” when we begin to read and interpret every day events and subsequently discover or uncover divine revelation.

For those of you who don’t know, the Jewish holiday of Purim is just around the corner. This year, Purim begins on the evening of March 15 and ends on the evening of March 16 (in the Hebrew calendar, it is the 14th of Adar).

To give some context to non-Jewish people, let me frame it this way: Purim is our Halloween and St. Patrick’s Day (which happens to fall on the day after Purim this year) combined.

Essentially, we dress up as other people and—you guessed it—get absolutely piss-drunk-stupid.

In Hebrew School, we dress up as the characters from the Purim story, swing our gregors, and eat our delicious hamantaschens. 

When you’re older, you continue to do all of this, but you also drink until—as the sages say—you don’t know the difference between Haman (the villain) and Mordechai (the hero) of the Purim story.

Most people don’t actually realize that Purim is, in fact, the holiest Jewish holiday. When asked “What is the holiest Jewish holiday?” most responses would be “Yom Kippur”.

Brief Hebrew language lesson:

“Pur” in Hebrew means “lots”—as in lottery. In the Megillah (The Book of Esther), we know that Haman—the jackass who wanted to annihilate the Jews entirely (yes, Hitler wasn’t the only one)—drew lots (Esther 9:24).

Moreover, “Yom Kippur” is not the actual name of the holiday. It’s actually “Yom Kippurim”—a day like Purim.

Yom Kippur is the Day of Atonement. We fast, pray, and repent all our sins of the previous year. Essentially, we act like monks for 24 hours.

So how could a holiday that commands you to get so drunk you can’t distinguish between the good guy and the bad guy be the holiest holiday of the year?

Moreover, why on earth would we name the holiday “Purim” after the lots that Haman—the bad guy—drew?

In The Queen You Thought You Knew: Unmasking Esther’s Hidden Story (2011), Rabbi David Fohrman asserts that Haman didn’t just draw lots in order to choose an arbitrary date to destroy us on—he did it to terrify us. As in, he used psychological warfare against us.

That is to say, Haman was leaving the date of the Jewish genocide up to chance, but the Jewish religion is the exact opposite of chance—God is behind the scenes, hidden, but that does not mean he isn’t around.

Why do I bring this up?

The Purim story is found in “The Book of Esther” - not "God is Awesome" or "God Saved the Jews" or "God Loves the Jews". Moreover, the word “God” isn't actually mentioned anywhere in the text. How is this possible if every other holiday goes out of its way to mention God and Purim is supposed to be the holiest holiday?

We mention God in every other holiday because “Big God” (like I mentioned in my first blog post) was present. I refer, of course, to the supernatural miracles such as splitting the sea and 'passing over' the Jewish houses in Egypt.

In Purim, it was “little God”—in the details of the every day—pushing things along.

When we are taught the story of Purim, most people get the impression that the story takes place over a couple of days when, in fact, it takes place over the course of nine years.

Why isn’t God mentioned anywhere in The Book of Esther? Simply: because he’s present in every ‘coincidental’ detail of the story.

In Hebrew, the “Book of Esther” (or the Esther Scroll)—Megillat Esther—means “revealing the hidden”.

Esther—the ‘hidden’ Jew among the many Persian women who came from far and wide to participate in King Ahasuerus’ beauty pageant (the winner of which would become Queen)—was the wrench that was thrown into Haman’s evil plan. She “revealed” herself as Jewish to the King, her husband, at the right moment.

Mordechai, Esther’s uncle, who ‘overheard’ two guards’ plan to kill the King, “revealed” the secret plan to the King and was eventually awarded (through the execution of Haman) for his deed.

So why do we call the holiday “Purim”? To emphasize the irony of Haman’s plot gone awry?

According to Rabbi Fohrman, there’s something more at work here.

In the Book of Numbers, there is a discussion of the “annulment of vows”. The verse refers to “husband”—“a husband will affirm it; a husband will annul it”—but a mere difference of vowels transforms the word to “woman”.

When Mordechai encourages Esther to approach the King in his private chamber - an act that could have cost her her life - to save her people, he interprets the Book of Numbers as prophecy, specifically for her.

The Hebrew word “vepheirena” derives from the word “pur” – pei, vav, reish (Hebrew letters) which equal the word “annul”.

Haman drew lots to annihilate the Jews while Esther “annulled” his genocidal decree (N.B. The King gave Esther and Mordechai the King’s signet ring which would allow them to write whatever they wished about the Jewish people as the King’s word could not be undone. This ultimately meant that they could not undo Haman’s decree (which had been decreed with the king's ring) despite the fact that he was already dead; they could only counter it by decreeing that the Jewish people could fight back against their enemies. Essentially, by countering it, they nullified it, ergo, annulled.)

Therefore, the holiday of Purim was not about random chance but decisive action.

When writing the scroll, Esther and Mordechai knew precisely what they were doing. They were revealing that which was hidden—God—who had been with them (the Jews) all along.

For Miller, the “open secret” does not collapse binaries, but ‘fantasmatically recovers’ them” (207).

So when the sages say that we need to drink to the point where we don’t know the difference between Haman and Mordechai, they aren’t literally saying that Haman and Mordechai are one in the same person.

More broadly speaking, we are all human beings and should make every effort to strive for peace and universal brotherhood. Purim is the holiday which blurs distinctions. At the end of the day, what makes us different is not essential, but that which brings us closer together.

Since The Book of Esther ends on a note of peace carried on through the generations of Jewish people, I’d have to vehemently concur that Purim is the holiest of Jewish holidays.

I wish you all a healthy, happy, and—most importantly—a peaceful Purim.

And if you’re looking for interesting costume ideas that embody the spirit of Purim (drinking, fraternity, and 'blurred lines'), here’s a hint:

Drink up me hearties, Yo Ho!