Wear Your Enemy
Jacob as outer space Haman with the mask he made at Herbrew school
Dear friends,
In 1934, in the dead of winter, the chief rabbi of Palestine, Harav Kook received an urgent telegram. Three Jews escaping persecution were caught making their way through the snow from Russia across the Polish border. Their white clothes used for camouflage didn’t help. Now they were about to be handed over to the Russian authorities to suffer the penalty by Russian law for such a crime: death. The rabbi sprung into action, sent some urgent communications, and miraculously, managed to release the three and bring them to Palestine. They arrived 90 years ago today, on the eve of Purim, into a drunken celebration. When they recited: “cursed is Haman who tried to annihilate me,” they knew what they were talking about.
In the midst of the rejoicing the chief rabbi, born and raised in the Russian empire, did something unexpected. He began singing an old Russian soldier’s song. He danced and sang, and the entire community joined in on the song.
Now why would the rabbi bring such a strong representation of the enemy that almost killed three innocent Jews? And why would he get everyone present to sing and dance to it? Is this not the moment to celebrate the prisoners’ release, rather than reminding them of the songs of their captors?
The answer is no. It’s exactly the way Purim brings healing. The Holiday of Peace, as Rabbi Natan of Nemirov called it, is exactly the time to step into our enemies’ mindset, to explore our adversaries’ emotional world, to transform ourselves into those we disagree with in an overwhelming show of empathy. We dress in costume to get out of ourselves. We get drunk in order to allow a softening of the hard lines in our thinking. It is the only time of year when we are commanded to see something different in those we hate.
In wicked people there is a spark of goodness. In cruelty there are remnants of kindness. In Haman too there is god.
When we enter this mindset what we find is not agreement with those with whom we disagree, but a softer understanding for a day, a relaxing of the shoulders, a greater harmony in the world.
Many voices have called for a purim with no groggers this year. They see in it a representation of the vengeful mindlessness that is far too present in this war. Perhaps the noisemaking can be transformed as well, from a mocking cry of victory to a call to the spark in the soul of wickedness.
Tomorrow evening we will gather at the theater to watch Pharaoh, drink, munch and make merry. This play is an attempt to help us all wear Pharaoh, in order to increase empathy, soften our hard lines, and open a window to a more harmonious human kind. It has been wonderful witnessing both spectators and critics respond so powerfully to this message. I hope you can join us!
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Misha