Mardis Gras.   Halloween.  Carnevale de Venezia.  Masquerade.  
And Purim.

It seems everyone loves a chance to dress in costumes.

Purim is such a fascinating and unique moment in the cycle of the Jewish year:  It's our "let loose" moment . . . costumes, songs, raucous audience-participation during the reading of the Megillah (the Scroll of Esther), even some condoned adult tippling.

When we read the Purim story in the Scroll of Esther, however, some engaging, substantive themes emerge:

Women's Leadership
It is in this book of the Hebrew Bible that we encounter a new model of women's leadership.  Vashti, King Ahashuerus's rebellious queen is banished from the throne for her non-compliance.

"Back in the day" active Megillah-listeners would hiss at the sound of Vashti's name.  Today, women are more likely to cheer for the female sovereign who risked her crown to preserve her dignity.

Over the course of the Scroll, we witness Esther's transformation from a shy, self-deprecating beauty to a royal-court-savvy, assertive champion of our people, more successfully risking her crown for principle than her predecessor.

Jewish Identity in the Diaspora
Purim shares a significant distinction with the festival of Shavuot . . . neither festival takes place within the Land of Israel.  What does it mean that we received the Torah (celebrated at Shavuot) and defended the security of our community (at Purim) outside the borders of the Land of Israel?  This may be a question that we here in the United States may see differently than our peers living in Israel.

Too Much Bloodshed?
Whether hyperbole, fantasy or historical fact, the ninth chapter of the book of Esther relates the mechanism by which the Jews of Shushan and the Persian Empire survived.  The King's order to slay the Jews (provoked by Haman) could not be revoked.  There existed no mechanism for revoking a royal decree.  So, the best King Ahashuerus could do was to order a second decree permitting the Jews to defend themselves.  Which they did.  Effectively.  Enthusiastically.  Throughout Shushan and its 127 provinces, over 75,000 enemies were killed by the Jews . . . who did not touch the spoils of war.
I had the opportunity to live in England for a year.  A friend involved in the administration of Great Britain's equivalent of our Reform Movement explained that their tradition was to hold a board meeting the night of Purim in order to demonstrate to their non-Jewish neighbors and friends that this Jewish community would not gather to celebrate the deaths of their non-Jewish enemies.
Clearly the juvenile and family-friendly versions of the Megillah skip this chapter, but here, among adults, we are left to ponder:  is the story of Purim meant to convey to our diaspora neighbors that God will protect us one way or another no matter where we live?  Has the story of Purim generated hostility directed at diaspora Jewish communities over the centuries?  Should we read Chapter 9 and take pride in the fact that our ancestors stood up for themselves instead of allowing themselves to be slaughtered?  Do we cringe a little and wish the text of the book of Esther expressed some regret for the bloodshed?

The Priority of Community
The annual celebration of Esther and Mordechai's triumph over Haman is described in the final verses of the book of Esther.  Purim is to be an occasion for feasting and merrymaking . . . for sending gifts of food to one another and sending donations to support the poor.  The feasting and merrymaking are not unexpected expressions of joy, relief, celebration.  I find the last two elements . . . Mishloach Manot, Sending Portions of Food to neighbors and friends and Matanot l'Evyonim, Sending Gifts to the Needy to add a quality of significance to our celebration.  As we indulge in, perhaps, a little too much rich food and a little too much to drink, we are also equally expected to share our bounty with family and friends and make sure that the vulnerable among us also have cause and the means to celebrate.

Purim is most definitely fun . . . and we here at Torat Yisrael are hoping the snow won't get in the way of our celebration this year.  And, between the snowflakes, we can also pause to consider some of Purim's "meatier" themes.

Every chance I get, I tell people that it is a privilege to be a rabbi.  Most treasured among the opportunities I treasure in my rabbinate are the people who let me into their lives.  The more experience I accrue as a rabbi, the more I come to appreciate what I can learn from my "chavrei kehillah" -- the members of my congregation.

A young friend recently told me about an intriguing international program called "The Human Library," in which a group of people with varying life experiences each agree to tell their life story for about fifteen minutes to any individual who is interested.  The visitor reads a synopsis of the person's life story on a card and decides to "check out" the human book.  They have a fifteen minute slot for the "human book" to tell her or his story and then the "library patron" returns the "human book" and can check out another if he or she finds another potentially interesting story.

Over the course of time, I've acquired a few people who i've added to my permanent "human library."  People who have taught me, shared with me, opened vistas for me.

David Smoller was one of those.

If you were to assess the man in the photograph above, you'd probably guess that this was a happy man, a friendly man, a guy, perhaps, with a good sense of humor.  You'd be right.  What you would not guess from this great photograph of David at a Torat Yisrael end-of-summer barbecue a few years ago, is that David faced his own mortality with courage and determination and optimism and courage and sheer will since he was a teenager.

David would tell me:  "There's no other way to do it."  David would power through any and all onslaughts to his physical well-being with one single goal: to get back to his real life of loving and caring for and supporting Susan and Michelle.  "Life is good." David would say.

Other people in David's circumstances would (and do) complain, whine, suffer under a burden of fear, lash out in anger and frustration, shrivel in helplessness.

David swaggered through every challenge with a smile on his face, putting his faith in God, counting the blessings in his life, embracing every opportunity for friendship, mentschlichkeit, joy, love, generosity and a good laugh.

I sat at his feet; a neophyte in the art of living and loving life.

This week's parashah / Torah portion continues the revelation at Sinai begun during last week's dramatic, shofar-blasts-smoke-and-thunder forging of the brit/covenant between God and Israel.

This week's chapters of Torah settle down to the task of laying out our responsibilities as we fulfill our commitment to maintain our covenant with God.  The scope and diversity of the mitzvot / commandments delivered in our parashah, Mishpatim (which literally translates as "laws") is are tremendously comprehensive.  As we look through laws that outline our relationships with other human beings, with God, with other elements of creation, like animals and plants, the realization dawns that our tradition is holistic . . . our thoughts, our actions, our aspirations can all be elevated and bring holiness to the world if we turn to the Torah and the covenant for guidance.  "One who steals a man, and has sold him, or he was found in his hand, will be put to death." (Exodus/Sh'mot 21:16)  "And if an ox will gore a man or a woman and they die, the ox shall be stoned, and its meat shall not be eaten--and the ox's owner is innocent.  And if it was a goring ox from the day before yesterday, and it had been so testified to is owner, and he did not watch it, and it killed a man or a woman, the ox will be stoned, and its owner will be put to death as well." (21:28-29)  "You shall not bring up a false report.  Do not join your hand with a wicked person to be a malevolent witness." (23:1)  "And you shall not oppress an alien--since you know the alien's soul, because you were aliens in the land of Egypt." (23:9)  "And six years you shall sow your land and gather its produce; and the seventh: you shall let it lie fallow and leave it, and your people's indigent will eat it.  You shall do this to your vineyard, to your olives." (23:10-11) "You shall not cook a kid in its mother's milk." (23:19)

Few of us in East Greenwich have fields to leave fallow (and anyway, that particular mitzvah is reserved for Jewish-owned fields in Israel) or have to worry about the behavior of our ox.  But the values couched in those ancient middle-eastern realia find expression in our own practices, traditions and standards today.

This past Sunday morning, our third, fourth, and fifth graders, their parents and even a few grandparents gathered at the Frenchtown Road Stop and Shop for a "Mishpatim Moment."  After having studied about kashrut in class with teacher Joie Magnone, our students and parents met at the supermarket to put theory into practice.  Armed with a booklet showing a variety of kosher symbols and a shopping list of ten items to find that sported those symbols, our kosher shoppers took off:  salad dressing, pasta, breakfast cereal, prune juice, crackers, canned peaches . . . we spread through the store collecting kosher non-perishibles.  

Lesson #1 learned:  It's actually pretty easy to eat kosher.  Most of our favorite national brands are kosher!

After checking everyone's basket and purchasing our 10 items per family, we arrived at Lesson #2:  We met Susan Adler, Director of the Jewish Seniors Agency, which runs the Chester Full Plate Kosher Food Pantry.  Sue accepted our kosher offerings with enthusiasm and promised to stock the shelves of the pantry for the over 125 clients of the JSA who are food insecure . . . who do not always know where their next meal is coming from.

Our Mishpatim Moment:  We learned a bit about what kosher food is and how to find it . . . and we got it into onto the tables of those in our community who need it most.