Preparing for Purim - The Deep Meaning of the Holiday in Light of Chassidus

00:00 Purim is one of those holidays that, on the face of it, is a little hard to define. You could say it is somewhat shrouded in mystery and full of contradictions. It is not so clear what this holiday is really about. We see how Purim is celebrated: of course, there are the mitzvos of Purim—reading the Megillah, mishloach manos, gifts to the poor, and the Purim meal, with feasting and rejoicing. But even with all that, the character of the holiday is not clear. On Purim, we generally see people drinking more than usual, getting a little confused, dancing, going out into the streets—each place in its own way. And, to put it frankly, some people wait for Purim as a day when they can let loose a bit. Others specifically do not like that letting loose and wait for it to be over. They close their eyes, feel uncomfortable with the day, and look forward to getting back to ordinary daily life. But what is the real point of Purim? What exactly is going on here? What is its root, its essence? A great miracle happened on Purim, and everything was turned around. But as the Megillah tells us—and miracles have happened to the Jewish people in every era, in every generation. Yet we see that Purim has something very, very special about it. So much so that we know the teaching of our Sages in the Midrash on the beginning of Mishlei, chapter 9: “She slaughtered her meat, mixed her wine.” There, in Yalkut Shimoni and Midrash Mishlei, we find something extraordinary: “All the festivals are destined to be nullified except for the days of Purim.” You think about that and say, wow—all the festivals? That means even the festivals written in the Torah—Pesach, Shavuos, and Sukkos. All the festivals are destined to be nullified in the future, when Moshiach comes. Of all the festivals, the only one that will remain even then is

02:33 Purim. As it says in the Megillah, “And their remembrance shall not cease from their descendants.” Fine. But why? What is there about Purim that, even when Moshiach comes and all the festivals are nullified, Purim will not be? The Midrash goes on to bring another opinion, that of Rabbi Elazar, who says the same is true of Yom Kippur. But there is a difference of opinion about Yom Kippur. Rabbi Elazar says it, but not everyone does. About Purim there is no dispute. The Rambam even brings this in his halachic work. In the laws of the Megillah, he cites this Midrash as halachah: all the festivals will be nullified except Purim—“And their remembrance shall not cease from their descendants.” What is there about Purim? That is what we will discuss today: the wonderful and distinctive depth that Chassidus reveals in Purim. We will begin with the words of the Alter Rebbe and focus on his wonderful explanation. I want to tell you that there is something tremendous to be seen in Chassidus, particularly Chabad Chassidus, concerning the days of Purim. There are extraordinarily illuminating, deep explanations of the essence of Purim, of the Megillah, of the depth of Megillas Esther and all its details. These explanations are relevant both to the roots of these matters above, in the spiritual worlds, and to the human soul—how they find expression in our lives. There is so much that is wonderful here, and of course we will focus on the Alter Rebbe’s words. There are many maamarim among Chabad chassidim. Purim is considered one of the deeper, more serious holidays. That is interesting. I remember that, as a young student, I merited to be with the Rebbe, the Lubavitcher Rebbe, for Purim over several years. The Purim farbrengen was one of the most profound and uplifting farbrengens. The Rebbe would farbreng for hours and hours, together with

05:03 the joy of Purim. The sichos and maamarim, the Torah the Rebbe shared, were profound: explaining the depth of the holiday, the verses of the Megillah, guidance in serving Hashem, lessons for an entire lifetime—things from Purim that sustain us throughout the year. So, as I said, today we will discuss a point in the Alter Rebbe’s words that gives us the foundation, the key, the essential point. It is one of the most wonderful and profound points in the message of Purim, and through it we will understand why Purim is such an extraordinary holiday—so much so that, as we said regarding the days of Moshiach, Purim in particular is more enduring than all the other holidays. What is so deep and wonderful about it? The Alter Rebbe’s words are based on a teaching of the Baal Shem Tov, which he once shared at a Purim meal. He explained the well-known connection between the names Purim and Yom Kippur. This is already written in the holy Zohar, in Tikkunei Zohar, Tikkun 21. It says there that Purim and Yom Kippur share the same root. The Zohar does not explain much; it just says that because Purim and Yom Kippur are similar, in the future, in the days of Moshiach, Yom Kippur too will become like Purim. That is the meaning: Kippurim, “like Purim.” In the future, Yom Kippur too will be like Purim, a day of feasting and rejoicing, when people will delight in it, and so on. Fine. But the Baal Shem Tov said something striking—something that, in a sense, points in the opposite direction when we look at the root of the matter. When we say that Yom Kippur is “like Purim,” Purim is at the center and Yom Kippur is only like Purim, similar to it. There is a particular respect in which Purim is even loftier, even deeper, than Yom Kippur. The Baal Shem Tov said: for two things to be different, they must also have something in common. So what do Purim and Yom Kippur have in common? On the face of it, not only are they not alike, they seem completely opposite. Ask an ordinary person to find what Purim and Yom Kippur have in common—they are utter opposites in how we behave.

07:25 Yom Kippur is a serious day, a day of teshuvah, prayer, and fasting. There are five forms of abstention a Jew must observe on Yom Kippur, including eating, drinking, and washing, with all their laws. There is a great deal to it. Yom Kippur is a day of affliction: “You shall afflict your souls,” the Torah says. It is an intensely serious day, the most serious day of the year. Purim is just the opposite. We celebrate, eat, drink, and rejoice; we even go beyond our usual limits with drinking, in accordance with halachah. It is not simple. How can Purim and Yom Kippur be on the same level? And then we are told something more: Yom Kippur is only “like Purim.” Purim is even higher. The Baal Shem Tov once explained at a Purim farbrengen that the link between them is the lot—the casting of lots. Why, according to the Megillah, is Purim called Purim? “He cast a pur, that is, a lot.” In other words, the word pur in Persian means a lot. Purim is named for the lot. Haman cast a lot because he wanted to know when to carry out his terrible, dreadful decree “to destroy, kill, and annihilate” all the Jews. The lot fell on the month of Adar, and then everything was turned around. So Purim is named for that lot. It is very strange, very interesting, puzzling. We need to understand it, but we do know that Purim is connected with a lot—that is its name. Yom Kippur also involves a lot. After all, one of the central parts of what the Torah tells us in Parshas Acharei Mos about the mitzvos and the service of Yom

09:42 One of the things the Kohen Gadol did on Yom Kippur was draw lots. They would bring two goats that had to be alike in every respect. Then there was a box containing the two lots: one said “For Hashem,” and the other said “For Azazel.” The lot drawn in his right hand was meant to be for Hashem, and the one in his left for Azazel. The Torah tells us about this whole process of drawing lots on Yom Kippur. The goat sent to Azazel would carry away all the sins of the Jewish people—“and it shall bear upon itself all the sins of the children of Israel”—and it was a day of forgiveness and pardon. So the connection lies in the lot. Good. The question is, what does that mean for us? What is the deeper meaning? What is this matter of drawing lots, to the point that it is central both to Yom Kippur and to Purim, and is what they have in common? The Alter Rebbe explains it this way. When we look at what it means to draw lots, it means that a person sets his intellect aside. There are things a person thinks through and decides using his judgment. There’s this side and that side; you weigh them up, reach a conclusion, and say, “I choose this because it’s better, more important, more understandable, loftier, more uplifting.” And so you choose it. Drawing lots means a person says, “I’m setting aside my intellect, my feelings, and my desires. What I want, what I love, and what I understand don’t matter. None of that comes into it now. Whatever the lot says is what I will want, and everything else will follow.” So drawing lots means committing yourself to something beyond knowledge, beyond intellect. How fortunate we are,

11:59 how goodly is our portion, how pleasant is our lot. A Jew has a connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That connection has many dimensions. There is a connection that comes from emotion: a Jew loves Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu loves the Jew. There is a connection that comes from intellect: he understands, studies, and delves into the greatness of Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And the same is true of Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s connection with the Jewish people. There is a connection of desire, but there is also something called a “lot”: “How fortunate we are, how goodly is our portion, how pleasant is our lot.” In other words, a Jew has a commitment to Hakadosh Boruch Hu that is beyond intellect. Even when his mind doesn’t understand and the feeling isn’t there, he remains committed. This aspect of the lot is the deepest connection of a Jew to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, and of Hakadosh Boruch Hu to the Jew. “You uphold my lot.” So that is the point of Yom Kippur. On Yom Kippur, a Jew stands face to face with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. He knows that over the course of the year he has done many things that were not truly desirable or proper. He has sinned—sins, transgressions, misdeeds: “For the sin we have committed before You.” On Yom Kippur we all open up, reveal the truth, confess our sins, and so on. But then comes the extraordinary power of teshuvah. This is what happens on Yom Kippur: the aspect of the lot. If we go by rational calculations, the situation is difficult. Why do we deserve a good year? Why do we deserve all the good that Hakadosh Boruch Hu will give us? How have we behaved? Where, exactly, was your conduct better than that of a non-Jew—lehavdil? But when a Jew reaches the level of the lot before Hashem on Yom Kippur—what does the verse say about Yom Kippur? The verse says:

14:24 “Before Hashem you shall be purified.” “For on this day He will atone for you, to cleanse you of all your sins; before Hashem you shall be purified.” The Alter Rebbe says that “before Hashem” means at the very highest level, far beyond all the Names—where the Names, the sefiros, and the vessels all come to an end. A Jew stands face to face with Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself, at the level of the lot. Then the goat for Hashem becomes the sin offering. The right side wins—the Jewish people—and that is the miracle. This is the great power of the Days of Awe, of Yom Kippur. When a Jew stands before Hashem and does teshuvah on Yom Kippur, he reaches such a lofty place that Hakadosh Boruch Hu erases his entire past. He does not take any of the calculations into account—whether he deserves it or not. Everything is wiped away and a new page begins. Then we receive a favorable inscription and final sealing for the entire year. That is what Yom Kippur is about. In fact, that is what happened on the first Yom Kippur the Torah tells us about. What happened then? It was after the sin of the Golden Calf, an extremely grave sin committed by the Jewish people. Then came days of Divine favor, days of teshuvah. Yom Kippur was the day Moshe Rabbeinu descended with the second Tablets, after the whole episode of the Golden Calf, the breaking of the first Tablets, the prayers, and so on. On Yom Kippur came “I have forgiven, as you said.” Moshe descended with the second Tablets, and Hashem forgave and pardoned the Jewish people. Then came the most wonderful face-to-face connection: the Jewish people stood face to face with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. From then on, Yom Kippur was established as a day of forgiveness and pardon. That is the aspect of the lot on Yom Kippur. Something similar happened on Purim. First we’ll talk about what was similar, and then about what was different. On Purim, the Jewish people reached a low point. There was physical hardship after seventy years of exile in Babylon, and there was a spiritual low, a

16:53 moral low, as the Gemara tells us. What happened beforehand? What led to Haman’s decree? There was the matter of bowing to Nebuchadnezzar’s image, a sin connected with idol worship, and there was the matter of enjoying that wicked man’s feast. Achashverosh invited everyone, and the Jewish people came. They didn’t just come; they enjoyed themselves. At that feast there were also various acts that desecrated Hashem’s name, and that is what led to Haman’s decree. Nevertheless, Hakadosh Boruch Hu forgave us, despite everything that had happened, despite the Jewish people’s conduct, which was not as it should have been. As the Midrash relates, Haman came to Achashverosh and told him, “There is one people, scattered and dispersed among the nations, and they do not observe the king’s laws.” They don’t listen. The Midrash and other works explain that Haman’s accusation was, in fact, directed at Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Haman spoke before the king—meaning the King. As the Midrash says, “the king” in the Megillah often represents Hakadosh Boruch Hu, the King of kings. Here the accuser comes to accuse the Jewish people and says: “There is one people,” but they are scattered and dispersed among the nations. Instead of being one people, with all that this implies—one with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, “Hashem is One and His name is One,” united as one, one in the world—they are scattered and dispersed. “And the king’s laws,” meaning the laws of the King of the world, “they do not observe”; “and it is not worthwhile for the king to leave them be.” No, they aren’t doing what they’re supposed to do, so what need is there for them? That was the story of Haman and his decree. And this very point explains why Purim is called Purim: the lot was absolutely central here. Haman comes and casts a lot. He wants to use that same technique, that same approach. He takes the lot, but the

19:24 He wanted to use the lot in the opposite direction. Just as there is the aspect of the lot on Yom Kippur, when no calculations are taken into account and the result comes out on that side, the side of holiness, Haman said: It can work the other way too. Because if we start making calculations, then yes, the Jewish people are not behaving well, but they will start saying, “You’re not behaving well either.” Who is worse? He did not know whether he would win. So he wanted to use the method of casting lots, because he thought that this way, at least, he had some chance of winning. That is the story of the lot. It explains the deeper reason Haman cast lots, and why so much is made of the lot—to the point that the festival of Purim is named after it. Haman’s calculation was that since a lot is beyond explanations, a place where calculations do not count for much, there was a possibility that evil would prevail over good. But here the secret of Purim was revealed: precisely from the place of the lot came “and it was turned around.” Here the miracle of Purim was revealed, the wondrous miracle of Purim: the true essence of a Jew, a Jew’s bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu, was revealed, exactly as it is on Yom Kippur. What happens on Yom Kippur? A Jew awakens his essential bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Yom Kippur is the day when a Jew stands face to face with Hakadosh Boruch Hu and says, “I am bound to You,” and then Hakadosh Boruch Hu forgives everything. That is what happened on Purim too. The Jewish people stood firm on Purim, through the strength of Mordechai the Jew, who awakened their faith. They stood with absolute self-sacrifice. The Jewish people’s innermost point, the Jewish spark, was awakened because of Haman’s decree and through Mordechai’s strength, as the Midrash tells us, how

21:36 Mordechai succeeded in awakening the entire Jewish people, so that they stood with absolute self-sacrifice at that time. That is what brought about the great miracle of “and it was turned around.” So what is the connection between Purim and Yom Kippur? In both, there is a revelation of the aspect of the lot—the inner bond of face to face. It is not as Haman thought, that a lot means fifty-fifty, maybe yes and maybe no. On the contrary, it is this aspect of the lot about which it says, “He will choose our inheritance for us, the pride of Yaakov whom He loves forever.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s choice of the Jewish people is the deepest and most wondrous thing: Hakadosh Boruch Hu chose the Jewish people of His own free choice, and He never regrets that choice. This is what brings forgiveness on Yom Kippur. In the same way, and with the same depth, on Purim this aspect of Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s choice was awakened and revealed from a lofty place beyond all explanations, even though they did not deserve it. From there came “and it was turned around”—the entire miracle of Purim, “On that night, the king’s sleep was disturbed,” and everything that follows in the Megillah. So in what way are Purim and Yom Kippur alike? And here we come to the point of difference. When we begin to look at the details, we see an enormous difference. The first difference is that Yom Kippur still has rules. Although we say Yom Kippur is a day of pardon and forgiveness, when Hakadosh Boruch Hu pardons and forgives every Jew, there are rules. The Gemara says at the end of tractate Yoma that Yom Kippur atones for sins involving prohibitions. But there are things for which Yom Kippur does not atone. For example, desecration of Hashem’s name. The Gemara says that Yom Kippur is not enough for desecration of Hashem’s name. There are sins punishable by kareis or by a court-imposed death penalty for which suffering is also needed, desecration of Hashem’s name, and so on. What happened on Purim? On Purim, something wondrous happened. After all, the sin connected with Purim was

24:01 connected with desecration of Hashem’s name, as we said earlier, and nevertheless Hakadosh Boruch Hu forgave them. On Purim, Hakadosh Boruch Hu forgave the Jewish people completely, wiped the slate clean entirely, even though these were sins for which even Yom Kippur is not enough. What is the explanation? Here we come to the deeper point that explains Purim’s extraordinary quality, even more than Yom Kippur’s. As we said, Yom Kippur is a festival written in the Torah. It was given to us at Matan Torah, as part of the 613 mitzvos. It is part of the Written Torah. So it has rules and definitions. It is a festival connected with the Written Torah, with the Mishkan, with the Beis Hamikdash, as we read in the weekly parshas. The whole account of Yom Kippur—the Kohen Gadol and the Beis Hamikdash—belongs to that kind of festival. And precisely because of that, it has various boundaries and limitations. Purim is a festival that was revealed in a time of darkness. It was revealed in a period of the greatest darkness imaginable, specifically at a time of, G-d forbid, concealment of Hashem’s face, a time of darkness doubled and redoubled. And precisely at that moment, Purim arrived, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s love for the Jewish people was awakened in such a wondrous way. This is the depth of Purim. Because it comes in moments of darkness, the greatest love is found and awakened within the greatest concealment. This is what the Gemara says in connection with Purim. Queen Esther—why was she called Esther? “And I will surely hide My face on that day.” In other words, within the concealment of His face is “I,” Hakadosh Boruch Hu Himself. It is a deeper bond: precisely in moments of darkness, I am with you, and I am with you in the deepest bond, more than in the good times. In the good times, when the Jewish people

26:31 observe mitzvos, study Torah, and the Beis Hamikdash stands in its place, with Kohanim, Levi’im, and so on, Hakadosh Boruch Hu’s bond with the Jewish people came from a more revealed place, an overt love. But overt love is also an external love. It is precisely in the hidden place, in moments when His face is concealed, that there is a much deeper, much more inward love. That is where the deeper bond is awakened: a Jew says to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, “You are my Father,” and Hakadosh Boruch Hu says to the Jewish people, “You are My people, you are My children.” And here, in this bond, at this depth, there are no rules or limitations at all. That is why, specifically on Purim, Hakadosh Boruch Hu turned everything around from one extreme to the other, and forgave the Jewish people and wiped away even sins for which Yom Kippur itself is not enough. This is the depth of Purim and its most wondrous message. It is why this festival has such immense depth each and every year—to the point that, as we said, even in the days of Moshiach, Purim will remain an eternal festival, even more so than Yom Kippur. As we said, there are differing views concerning Yom Kippur. But concerning Purim, we are told that it is a festival that will remain in full force even in the days of Moshiach, because this point is the deepest bond a Jew has with Hakadosh Boruch Hu; there is nothing beyond it. It is the most wondrous, deepest bond there is between a Jew and Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And here the Alter Rebbe comes and explains a verse in the book of Yeshayahu that finds expression in our service of Hashem in everyday life. “For You are our Father.” Yeshayahu, chapter 63: “For You are our Father; Avraham does not know us, and Yisrael does not recognize us. You, Hashem, are our Father; You.” What is the verse saying? The Alter Rebbe says—and this is also based on a Gemara in tractate Shabbos—he says

28:49 The Alter Rebbe—how do we translate this into our service of Hashem? What is happening here? He says that in the time of exile, there is Avraham and there is Yisroel. “Avraham does not know us,” he says. As we discussed, a Jew serves Hakadosh Boruch Hu on the level of Avraham, on the level of Yisroel. That is when a Jew serves Hashem out of love, like our forefather Avraham, who loved Hashem, and with joy—Yisroel, like Avraham and Yaakov, the holy forefathers. Then our connection with Hakadosh Boruch Hu is an open connection, a bond of closeness, of serving Hashem in a beautiful way. And from Above, too, the relationship is the same. Then comes the time of exile. A Jew says to Hakadosh Boruch Hu: I don’t have Avraham; I don’t have Yisroel. In other words, I don’t have the love I normally should. I’m lacking feeling, lacking depth, lacking knowledge—lacking whatever you can name. “Avraham does not know us, and Yisroel does not recognize us.” My service of Hashem is in terrible shape. “But You are our Father.” Precisely in those moments of concealment, a Jew says to Hakadosh Boruch Hu: I am a Jew, and I am connected to You. In practical terms, the Rebbe says, sometimes a person complains: I try to learn, but it’s hard for me. I try to daven, but I don’t connect. I try to awaken love of Hashem in prayer; I try to awaken joy. No, no—everything is stuck, everything is blocked. It isn’t working for me. But we are told: “For You are our Father.” There is something that remains in full force. I am a Jew, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu is my Father. A Jew has the power to cry out: Father, I am Yours! And we have that power, that cry, in the time of exile—even more than in the most beautiful times of the Beis Hamikdash. That is what a Jew says to Hakadosh Boruch Hu in the time of exile, and that is what the Jewish people said to Hakadosh Boruch Hu in the days of Purim. We fall short in this,

31:09 we fall short in that; we’re lacking here, we’re lacking there—but You are our Father. I am a Jew, I have faith, and I am connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu. And out of that faith, Jews stood with mesirus nefesh throughout that entire period. That is why, in the Megillah, the Jewish people are called “Yehudim”—a name that appears only in Megillas Esther and, elsewhere in Tanach, in Ezra and Nechemiah, from around the time of Megillas Esther. We don’t find the name “Yehudi” in the Chumash, or even in the earlier parts of Tanach. It is specifically in this period of the Babylonian exile that we suddenly have “Yehudim.” Of course, there are many explanations for this, but there is the explanation the Gemara gives in Tractate Megillah: a Yehudi is someone who rejects idol worship. A Yehudi is someone who believes in Hakadosh Boruch Hu. A Yehudi is someone who gets up in the morning and says, “Modeh Ani lefanecha”—I give thanks, and I acknowledge. That includes acknowledging that this is the truth. I don’t feel it, I don’t understand it, I don’t grasp it; I’m lacking here, I’m lacking there. But “Modeh Ani.” I am a Jew.

32:15 And that Jew, that power, awakened precisely in the most difficult moments of Purim. That is why the miracle of Purim is the greatest miracle and Purim the greatest festival; this is what reaches the deepest point of Purim. As we said, it happens amid a festive meal. Yom Kippur is a day of teshuvah, and then, too, the Jew awakens. As we said earlier, a Jew says, “I am a Jew,” and through that he returns to Hakadosh Boruch Hu in teshuvah. But on Yom Kippur there are conditions: there is affliction. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t wash; he rises above the world and becomes like an angel. That is where he cries out. He cries out, “Our Father, our King.” That is one level. So Hakadosh Boruch Hu forgives you, but it comes from a spiritual place, an elevated place, a place where a person rises to the level of angels, above the world. Purim tells you: No. We are here in the world, in exile, in everyday life, amid the meal, amid the feasting and joy. And then a Jew cries out, “For You are our Father.” Then a Jew says, “I am a Jew, and I am connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu.” That is the message and the power of Purim. That is why it is such a profound festival. It is what sustains us in the most difficult moments of exile, when a Jew says to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, “I am with You in every situation and in everything.” And that is why Purim is a time of feasting and joy. That is Purim. These are days when work is permitted by the letter of the law. As we said, halachah tells us it is better not to work, but the point is that these are not days when you become an angel. You remain within ordinary daily life—amid food, business, all those things, life out on the street, the simple things. And there is where a Jew cries out: “There is nothing besides Him.” “For You, Hashem, are our Father.” That connection arouses the deepest love between Hakadosh Boruch Hu and the Jewish people. That is why Purim is the festival of ad d’lo yada. A Jew connects with Hakadosh Boruch Hu at a place beyond

34:28 intellect, beyond understanding, and we bring that into every day of the year. May it be a year in which a Jew is truly connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu in the simplest things of everyday life. “For the Jews there was light and joy, gladness and honor.” So may it be for us: may we draw strength from Purim for the entire year, especially in the most difficult periods of exile. That is the greatest joy, and it is what we will live by. And even when Moshiach comes, the festival of Purim will not cease among their descendants. Because even then, in the great light of the days of Moshiach, the message of Purim, its essential point, will still stand out—strong and giving strength. May we truly merit to see the complete Geulah already, with a total reversal of everything—the defeat of the Haman of our generation. May we already have “For the Jews there was light and joy, gladness and honor.” So may it be for us. Amen, may it be His will.