Another Season of Love

Mordechai = Moses

It has been a week. Across our world, chaos reigns supreme. Within the Jewish world, we have felt immense pain. We had the brutal confirmation of the murders of Ariel and Kfir Bibas, their mother’s body mix up, the miraculous bus bombing flub, more hostages returned, the four fallen bodies returned, and the heart wrenching funeral of the Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir. For a people so tiny, it’s hard to imagine that this many horrific things could happen in one week.

At this time of year when spring begins its slow creep inward and the joyous month of Adar enter, it all feels a bit incongruous. And somehow, within this month, we have an extra mandate to increase our joy. In a normal year, that feels challenging but doable. In a year like this, it feels almost impossible. But Purim is the time of nahafoch hu, where we turn things on their heads. So perhaps with our collective energy, we can render the impossible, possible.

There are two teachings that lend themselves to this notion. The first comes from Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Horowitz, the 18th/19th century leader of Ropshitz Chasidim in Poland. In his collection commenting on the story of Esther, he riffs on the following comparison:

It is taught in the Midrash that Mordechai is equal to Moses (the Midrash makes this point because of a whole host of linguistic similarities in their stories). But how could this be? Mordechai is great but is he really on the level of Moses? One way we can understand this is that in the mystical tradition Moses is known as the faithful shepherd because he dedicated his life to ushering the people around him to goodness. That same attribute also defines Mordechai and is what puts him on Moses’ level for he also gives his whole self to his people. As the text describes when they face imminent destruction, “he dons sackcloth and ashes…and he cries bitterly” when he sees their doom. He had so much love and desire for them to be ok that he was willing to sacrifice himself for them when he pleaded with Esther to go to the king on their behalf. He went to great lengths to save the people. That is what makes him Moses-like.

In a unique interpretation, the Rebbe of Ropshitz equates these two beloved characters not for their grandiose acts but for their love of their people. I found this to be an inspiring take in a week when it seemed there was real unity among the Jewish people, albeit briefly. It takes some pretty awful stuff to happen to bring us together but the catharsis of togetherness really resounded this week.

A question though still persists, how can we fight through the thick darkness that is pervading this particular moment? Even if we strive to feel that love, to want to give of ourselves to our fellow Jews, we need a little bit more assistance. To give us a step up to that, we turn to this teaching from the Sfat Emet:

It seems that this time of year is also a time of teshuvah just like the days leading up to the high holy days. For Nisan is also one of the New Years. The month that precedes Nisan is Adar which is marked by a return to love. That’s why we increase our joy during this month for a desire of giving is awakened within each Jewish person.

This is also why we mark the shabbat that brings in Adar with a special reading about the shekel that the Israelites gave. This act awakens the giving spirit within each of us. For living within each person is an inner point that is wholly divine. The giving of the shekel was a repair of the sin of the golden calf for when a person activates this point within them, it can push off everything evil. Then, a person can perform true teshuvah, a real return, from a place of joy.

As he so often does, the Sfat Emet masterfully weaves together multiple threads. Playing on the rabbinic notion that there are multiple New Years, he argues that this month of Adar leading up to Nisan (one of those four New Years) is an apt time for Teshuvah just like Elul, the month leading up to Rosh Hashanah.

This particular return is fueled by the love we have for God and for one another. He then links it to the one of the four special portions we read which starts this week with Shabbat Shekalim. It carries within it the piece of Torah that demands that every person, no matter where they fall on the socioeconomic scale must give a half-shekel to the support communal sacrifices. That act, he argues, repairs the ultimate breach of the Israelites’ idol worship of the golden cafe. When we give, we return to joy and to love.

This connects the teaching from the Rebbe of Ropshitz to the Sefat Emet. We have been in the breach. We have cried the bitter cry of Mordechai which pushed us to be together. From that space, we felt a glimmer of a spark of a small point of goodness.

That, to me, is the essence of the work, especially in a year like this. We look around us and we see the strands of togetherness that came together in these past weeks and we wonder, can it continue? Can we strive to live in a world where Jews can build up and not tear down? The answer from these texts, as lofty as they may be, seem to be yes.

How?

We do it by being willing to show up for one another, like Mordechai did. We do it by finding that point inside of us that pushes us to give of ourselves, of our time, and of our resources to show up for others. We do it with acts of love because ‘tis the season after all. We don’t have to be polyannaish. The world will continue to bombard us with strife. In response, we can turn to the suggestion of these pieces of Torah: show up, give, and love.

Shabbat Shalom, Chodesh Tov, and Happy Weekend!