Shabbat Zachor: Jewish Unity – People, Spirit, and Purpose

I try to avoid ‘dating’ myself, but sometimes in the greater interest of teaching Torah, it’s inevitable.

We all remember answering machines.  Units attached to the phone line, rather than somewhere out there in the cloud or in a central computer, which recorded phone messages for us.  We waited to see if there was a blinking light when we came home.

Comedian Jerry Seinfeld once observed how he knew of so many people who would call a friend or family member only at a time they knew the person would not be at home, just so they could leave a message and not have to speak to the person.  The answering machine then became a relationship ventilator, with each side calling without any interest in actually talking to the other.

In my experience, hearing the stories of individuals and families over the course of a decade in my work, Seinfeld’s comical observation speaks a truth that’s very real, tragic, and much more common than I ever thought possible.  Instead of the answering machine though we have the ‘Like’ button on Facebook and calling the house instead of a cell phone to avoid speaking to someone.  The technology may have changed, even made it easier for us to be in touch and stay connected, but the disconnect between people has grown.  For every family with good relationships between parents and children, and between siblings, there are 3 families in which these relationships are barely breathing or broken.  And there is hurt, and disillusionment, and above all a sense of vulnerability.

The same vulnerability comes forward as a cause of our misfortune on this Shabbat Zachor, the Shabbat of Remembrance, literally the Shabbat of Remember! – in the command form.  Always the Shabbat before Purim, this is the day that we recall how the people of Amalek, a desert people, attacked the Israelites time and again beginning in the days of wilderness wandering after the Exodus.  The Purim Megillah connects Amalek to Haman – he is called Haman Ha’A’ga’gee, the descendant of Agag, one of the Kings of Amalek.

The vulnerability comes from any and all relationships in which our love goes unrequited, or there is chronic poor communication and misunderstanding, or the other person’s assumptions, possibly our own, hamstring us into discomfort, as we become stuck by poor information and the pain of being judged by who we were and not who we are or who we’re striving to be.

And the result of that is fracturing of unity, unity of ourselves and our perceptions of self, unity of our families, and ultimately the unity of our entire people begins to deteriorate though slowly, even under our radar screen, over generations. 

When the Great Hasidic master Rabbi Simcha Bunim of Peshis’cha reads our Shabbat Zachor Maftir, the one we heard just a few moments ago, he reads it as a moment of vulnerability and fracturing of our unity as a people.  He notices how God’s command, “Remember what Amalek did to you” is in the 2^nd person singular, directed toward an individual rather than to ‘you’ plural, the Jewish people.  In fact, he notices the whole parashah is written in the singular.  Amalek, Rabbi Simcha Bunim explains, could only have won out over an individual, one separated from the whole, one individual outside the pack…But if everyone were tied together as a whole, they would have been protected and not fallen to Amalek.  And he concludes:  This is a sign for future generations:  At all times Israel is united, Amalek – any future enemy – cannot win out over the people.(Iturey Torah, Vol 6, p. 149)

Haman is unable to win out over Mordecai, Esther, and all the Jewish people of Persia because they unite to fight back.  For sure, Esther leads the charge by pleading with the King, but she does it by including herself amongst her brothers and sisters.   

There are many Amalek type enemies – whether the regime in the same country as the Purim story today, or fundamentalist Islamic terrorism.  There are enemies such as the plague of fear that has gripped our country and taken hold of significant bandwith in the current run up to the national elections.

But how can we bring healing into our own homes?  How can we overcome the gaps of silence between parents and adult children?  How can siblings who have been at odds for so long reestablish some reconciliation?  How can Jewish communities like our own, with such a wide spectrum of backgrounds, beliefs, assumptions and traditions find our way together?

Purim is a helpful moment in beginning to confront these painful, divisive, and complicated issues.  Purim is the moment when we have official, and I mean that in the heavenly sense, official permission to laugh even when we are processing frustration, loss, and doubt.  The healing power of laughter is documented. 

According to some studies, laughter therapy may provide physical benefits, such as helping to:

Boost the immune system and circulatory system

Enhance oxygen intake

Stimulate the heart and lungs

Relax muscles throughout the body

Trigger the release of endorphins (the body’s natural painkillers)

Ease digestion/soothes stomach aches

Relieve pain

Balance blood pressure

Improve mental functions (i.e., alertness, memory, creativity)

Laughter therapy may also help to:

Improve overall attitude

Reduce stress/tension

Promote relaxation

Improve sleep

Enhance quality of life

Strengthen social bonds and relationships

Produce a general sense of well-being

Purim is also a day when we turn things on their heads the same way Esther and Mordecai overturn Haman’s evil schemes.  As the Megilah says, “Ve’naha’foch hu”, one reality is overturned and transformed into a new one.  Purim is a moment when we loosen up for a moment, turn the world upside down, and give ourselves permission to imagine what it could be.  Before we would approach anyone – a friend, a fellow congregant, a brother, a sister, a son a daughter – before approaching anyone we need to first imagine what the renewed relationship could be like, play it out in our hearts, and try to set aside burdensome resentments.

We cannot fix every relationship.  But if we are to stay committed to the larger cause of unity amongst us, individuals as part of families, families making up our communities, then even the strivings that go unanswered or unfulfilled in the end may be enough of a push in the right direction.

A famous story of the Chofetz Chayim, R. Israel Meir Ha’Cohen, the scholar who wrote the book on the ethics of speech – A student of his came to him in desperation.  “Rabbi”, the student said, “I’ve read and studied your book, it is so detailed, there are overtones of lashon ha’ra, evil tongue, in almost anything I can think of to say.  What can I do?  What can we do?”

The Chofetz Chayim thought, and meditated, and said, “We can start with a sigh.  For now the sound of our sigh will have to be enough.” 

The sigh, the broken heart, the unfulfilled expectation or hope, is in itself an awareness, a place that’s beyond the black pools of anger. 

Rather than survive on a ventilator, may the spirit of Purim help us see open doors where doors have been locked, and may the mishloach manot we give to one another, the gifts of food and good cheer, remind us that the point of this mitzvah is to show that each of us, even when we are at odds, even when we vehemently disagree with one another, that each of us is the gift and the food basket is simply a wonderful opportunity for brief time to hold onto something together in the exchange, see each other’s eyes, and hopefully a sincere and wishful sigh will break through the silence.