Purim Sparkled

Communal Judaism has not brought me joy in quite some time.  In clique-think I must be inferior or damaged in some way if I do not love being in synagogue, shuckling with the men, and taking delight in the Rabbi's wisdom.  Enough experiences accumulated to think that maybe they're right until another experience comes along unexpectedly to challenge that.  It came my way for megillah reading and Purim shpiel.  The room sparkled.  My anhedonia, even my experience generated cynicism took a reversal.  I chuckled at the jokes, admired the wit and dedication and creativity of talented people.  The room, while not large, was full.  I saw what I lacked and possibly cannot acquire with the relentless quest for mediocrity that gets rationalized as our shul's minhag. But it really need not be that way.  I miss the ironies, the challenges, expertise that is more real than assigned by title.  And I saw it happen in one evening.

Judaism is not inherently dour.  Spirit comes in myriad forms from delving into the complex, searching for an answer but really only finding two more questions instead, those instantaneous quips, questions that seem odd but have a basis if you can think beyond the concreteness of a Hebrew school imprint.  It has not only a measure of the absurd but teachable absurd that leaves you advanced from your starting point.

It can be had.  As much as I feel disheartened, even despondent, from a service at my congregation, if I am the only one who realizes what could be, I need to be the one who at least makes an effort to generate what could be.

Virtual Purim

My last reasonably normal synagogue event took place on Purim about a year ago.  We had elbow bumps in lieu of handshakes and one of our usual Megillah chanters had relocated to NYC but replaced by others. I dressed as Harbonah, nothing unique about him, but others came in more identifiable costumes.  By Seder, religious activities had moved to screens where they remain.  Unlike shabbos and yontiff, Purim does not restrict electronics so Megillah readings streamed from cyberspace will be common.  Groggers will sound a bit shvok unless somebody has recorded canned grogger grinding to be played back when Haman appears in the text.  Shpiels can be adapted to broadcast.  

Our Rabbis have created a checklist for the festival.  We have to hear every word of the Megillah either in Hebrew or some would allow in Greek.  Easy to do in cyberspace, in fact, maybe better since you can go back later to be sure you didn't miss any words.  Matanot L'Evyonim, or gifts for the poor may even be better as the pandemic has made people in need more visible and people with extra to give more willing to donate.  Electronics has made transfer of funds simple.  Mishloach Manot, or gifts of food, may pose more of a challenge.  We have valid reason not to trust the safety of hamentaschen made in somebody else's kitchen and not to open packages handed to us.  And we can all have our own festive meals at home, but it's usually less festive than the more traditional communal gathering, as well as awkward with the weekly elegant Shabbos dinner just a few hours later.

Purim has always commemorated the ways we have to adapt to our circumstances.

Pesach Approaching

Purim never got me all that enthused.  I heard Megillah, sometimes even did part of the public reading, and chuckled at the spiel jokes which squeezed out some people's creativity.  I would munch hamantaschen for the next week.  But personal immersion would have to wait for Pesach, that time of transformation.  The house got vacuumed, the carpets shampooed.  Food restrictions made me creative and an obligation to provide for a family seder kept me dedicated.  I become a planner and a doer. 

Realities of the calendar make this year's festival either a special challenge or a Pesach orgy depending on how well I absorb the tasks.  It comes after daylight savings time so ritual meals might be on the late side.  It also starts at mid-week putting first seder Wednesday night, second Thursday. Then Shabbos the following day, Yom Tovim Tuesday/Wednesday nights, then Yizkor on Thursday and the next shabbos the following evening.  And my birthday comes out during Chol HaMoed.  And First Seder needs to be transported to my in-laws.  That's a lot of meal planning. 

Meal planning has an interesting upside.  Shop-Rite has an array of food available, most expensive and with the health consequences of endlessly processed food.  By forcing menus, shopping can be more targeted.

I start with Seder, then shabbos Pesach.  Some comes essentially defined.  There's the Seder Plate with only the Charoset getting a recipe.  Chicken soup with Matzoh Balls.  Variable from there.  And with the Second Seder starting rather late, the meal will be less elaborate, largely a continuation of the First Seder.  Shabbos poses a challenge, preparation coming during yontiff.   Simple but different.

By the closing days, I'm shuled out, kitchen and dishes beaten, and just want to do kiddush and count Omer.  Started exploring some recipes while my anticipation is at a peak.

Facades of Purim

Purim can be an enigmatic time.  There is certainly a measure of revelry.  We wear costumes.  I thought about coming as Zaitar the Eunuch with  a necklace of my Prader Orchidometer and a packet of Androgel but our home was observing shiva for my mother-in-law so a more somber approach prevailed for me this year.  While we wear masks, we get drunk which can unmask thoughts, as many of us in the Jewish community learned from Hollywood icon Mel Gibson a few years back.

It's a holiday for kids.  At some shuls, including one I once attended, there was a program for children with a highly abridged Megillah and a small group of retirees who met in another room to hear the story of Purim in its entirety.  At my congregation we are mixed together which is as I think it should be.  It can be too easy to set aside some of the essence of the festival if it allowed to compete with other seasonal hedonism of Mardi Gras and St. Patrick's Day.  But since we wear costume, sometimes the serious elements stay hidden.

This year, my congregation and another sponsored a Carnival for the children of each shul.  The kids would march, sing Purim songs, hear a story and play games while the parents spend money.  After all, Matanos L'Evyonim or giving gifts to the poor is part of the holiday.  From our congregation's financial reports as presented at Board Meetings, nobody could be needier.  Moreover, little unmasks thoughts as effectively as asking people for money, another of the ironies of Purim.

Finally our mind emerges from the clothing facade when we feel outrage.  Our politicians capitalize on this routinely with the curtain on the voting booth shielding what we really think but the election returns revealing it.  And we have anger on Purim, most of it figurative with our groggers obliterating the name of Haman.  We also have a certain amount of real irritation.  At the Purim carnival where the kids sing their songs, the words they were to sing were transliterated.  The principals of the the two schools divided on this issue, probably unmasking what the principles of the two schools really are.  While one is a formal USCJ Framework for Excellence school, their educational director assessed that their children had not acquired sufficient Hebrew skills to learn a few words of Hebrew lettering.  Our principal takes great pride in the ability of our students to do that.  The Framework for Excellence in congregational recruiting literature may turn out to be one more mask, creating a surface illusion but misrepresenting what lies beneath.

So those are the Purim costumes.  The great sage Reb Geraldine noted that "what you see is what you get."  But maybe not, at least on Purim.