“RABBI’S MUSINGS (& AMUSINGS)”
Erev Shabbos Kodesh parshas Tetzaveh/Shushan
Purim
14 Adar 5781/February 26, 2021
--PURIM--
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LOST IN TRANSLATION
Whenever
a situation warranted it, my Bubby a”h would quote an old Yiddish saying. When
I then asked her what it meant she would always say that you can’t properly
translate such witticisms because something gets lost in the translation.
The most
frequent quote we heard from her was the well-known, “hak mir nisht keyn
tshaynik - don’t knock on my tea kettle.” It was a protest against our
making too much noise or carrying on about something (my siblings, not me...) I
always wondered why she couldn’t just tell us to be quiet. The truth is that
the Jews have been banging on tea kettles for thousands of years, and despite
our enemies best/worst efforts, they can’t seem to stop us.
Judaism
has many things that are not easily translated or explained. In fact, it’s
often more prudent to just stick with the Hebrew. The best example of that is
tefillin. If a non-Jew asks you what’s with the boxes, the worst answer is to
say that they are phylacteries. Does any non-Jew know what that phylacteries
are? It sounds like a stomach ailment. You have a better chance of using the
word tefillin.
It
reminds me of when I was at a chassidishe tish on the last night of Chanukah
and one of the well-meaning chassidim explained to me that they night the Grand
Rabbi was giving out patties in honor of Hanukkah. I never felt so Jewish!
The same
holds true for explaining what the Mishkan was (although why would any non-Jew
ask what the Mishkan is....). No one has any clue what a tabernacle is.
I
remember as a child looking at my grandparents old Hebrew Publishing Company
machzorim. On the side of the Shavuos machzor it said Pentecost. What in the
world does that mean? (It is actually based on a Christian concept.)
When I
was in Graduate School, a fellow student named Shiffy used the name Stephanie,
because it was more familiar to the students and professors. One professor
however, while taking attendance couldn’t seem to pronounce Stephanie properly.
She would have been better off leaving her name as Shiffy.
Of all
the holidays of the year, the most difficult one to translate is Purim.
Sometimes
people naively explain it as the Jewish Halloween. That’s like saying
astronauts are ‘space football players’ because, like football players,
astronauts wear helmets.
Just
about the only connection between Halloween and Purim is that people wear
costumes and visit other people’s homes. That Purim is all about giving and
Halloween is about taking is only a small part of it. Purim celebrates life,
connection to G-d, connection to fellow Jews, and reigniting our inner passion
in being proud Jews. I have no idea what Halloween celebrates, and I frankly
don’t care. But I do find it highly inappropriate to even compare the two
exclusively incongruous days.
The
literal translation of Purim is “lots”, so named after the lottery Haman cast
when determining what day to commit genocide against the Jews. Would anyone
think to name the Super Bowl “Coin Toss” because the game begins with one? While
Haman indeed cast lots, that was seemingly only a trivial event in determining
a date for his heinous plans. Why title the holiday after that? Furthermore,
why would the holiday be named after such a painful part of the story?
Shouldn’t we focus on the salvation?
So much
of life seems random. In fact, random is a popular word in today’s society. Why
do good people suffer? Why is there a pandemic? Why can’t people find their
shidduch? Why does that person deserve so much money when that person can’t pay
his mortgage? Why can’t that person get a better job? Why does that person have
such challenges with his children?
It almost seems like life happens based on luck of the
draw.
However,
part of being a believer entails believing that Hashem orchestrates everything
that occurs. We don’t choose the cards we are dealt with, but we do choose what
we do with them. In the words of Kenny Rogers, “You gotta know when to hold em,
know when to fold em.”
Haman
cast lots and was convinced that he had determined the perfect day to carry out
his plans. The reality was that it was the perfect time for his plans to be
reversed and bring about his utter destruction.
Perhaps
the holiday is called Purim - not only to reflect on Haman’s lots - but also to
reflect the many “purims” in our daily lives. The things that occur which seem
like a lucky throw of the dice, are really part of a master plan, though it’s
not too apparent.
In the
Megillah, Vashti was sure her position as queen was secure. She never dreamed
her husband, who wasn’t born into royalty, would assassinate her. Haman was
sure his plan was foolproof and that as soon as he got rid of Mordechai
everything would be perfect for him. Haman’s daughter was absolutely convinced
that the shamefaced man leading the parade was Mordechai, and so she decided to
shame him even more by emptying the family chamber pot on his head.
The
holiday of Purim poignantly reminds us that the purim of our own lives, which
we may think we have a grasp of and understand their trajectory, are really
beyond us. Our role is to play the cards we are dealt with to the best of our
ability and know that the cards are being dealt with a perfect plan and
direction.
There’s
no holiday when we hock louder than on Purim. We bang when hearing Haman’s name
to obliterate the memory of a dangerous enemy. But beyond that, we bang to
arouse the Haman within ourselves, those feelings of randomness which lead to
anxiety and sadness, to obliterate those as well.
On Purim
we don’t seek to get lost in the translation, but we do seek to immerse
ourselves in its commentary.
L’chaim,
l’chaim aleh Yidden!
Freilichen Purim!
Shabbat Shalom & Good Shabbos,
R’ Dani and Chani Staum