PURIM – A TIME FOR REJOICING, A TIME FOR REFLECTION

Megillat Esther, the scroll of Esther, is read on Purim which occurs on the 14th day of Adar.  It is read at the evening service as well as at Shacharit on Purim day. 

As children, we are taught that Purim is a time for joy and celebration – so much so that we are encouraged to dress up, be merry and even act a little silly.  If this is the case, why at a time of such great joy does the music of the megillah reading change from the traditional, hurried, humorous chant expected on Purim, to that of Eicha, the book of Lamentations, on five separate occasions.   The book of Lamentations is read on the saddest day of the Jewish calendar, Tisha B’Av – the day we mourn the destruction of the 1st and 2nd temple in Jerusalem.  How do we reconcile this combination of musical motifs on two fundamentally different periods in the Jewish calendar? 

According to tradition, those phrases which depict the gloom and despair of the Jews are to be chanted in a sadder tone.  On Purim, the musical detours employed in the megillah reading are borrowed to give added expression to certain key-phrases.  This melodic change from the joyous megillah mode to the sadness of the mode of lamentations deserves an explanation.  

Since the melody from Eicha was chosen for this contrasting form of expression, it is important to analyze the reason why.  In truth, it is not so coincidental, for if we look at other examples of Jewish celebration there is always a recurring theme – “YERUSHALAYIM.”  At the climax of a wedding, before the groom kisses his bride under the chuppah, the groom is commanded to break a glass and say:  “Im Eshkachech Yerushalayim, Tishkach Yemini -- If I Forget Thee O Jerusalem, let my right hand lose it’s cunning.”  At the conclusion of the Pesach seder, a time when we celebrate our freedom from bondage, ‘Zman Cheruteinu’, we say L’Shana HaBa’ah Birushalayim – next year in Jerusalem.  At the conclusion of Yom Kippur, upon hearing the final blast of the shofar, we first chant “next year in Yerushalayim” and then rush to our cars for that first bite to eat.  Throughout the Jewish life cycle we take time out to remember Jerusalem. 

On the Shabbat preceding Purim, the maftir tells us to ‘Zechor Amalek’ – to remember the evil doings of Amalek.  On Purim, we remember the evil of Haman and make noise at the very mention of his name.  It is at Purim that our hearts should go out to those afflicted by war and terror in our Jewish homeland.  1991 was my first year living in Israel. It was on Purim that year that the gulf war ended.  I remember joining Israelis singing and dancing in the streets, celebrating peace at last.  My last year living in Israel was 1996.  Regrettably, Purim festivities were marred by the horrific weeks of suicide bombings in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv.  There was no singing and dancing in the streets; there was no celebration.

As I write this column, it is my fervent prayer that Purim will bring a new sign of hope to our Israeli brethren and ease the difficulties surrounding life in the Middle East.  While you sit in shul and rejoice during the reading of the megillah, celebrate with the noise of the graggers and listen to the cheers from the children.   Then close your eyes and take a moment to listen to the subtle yet profound change in the musical motif from joyous to lament.  This musical nuance is there to remind us that at the height of celebration, we should always be mindful of our eternal home and the capital of our people – Jerusalem.

Simchat Purim