Preparing for Purim • Commanding a Jew to Get Drunk?! - 'Lebasumei' in Light of Chassidus

00:00 On Purim there are quite a few mitzvos, but one of the most central is the mitzvah of feasting and rejoicing, as it says in the Megillah: “Days of feasting and rejoicing.” In other words, these days were established as days of feasting and rejoicing. And how do we fulfill that? The Gemara tells us, among other things, in Megillah 7b—a famous and wonderful passage. Rava, the great Amora, says: “A person is obligated to become intoxicated on Purim until he does not know the difference between ‘Cursed is Haman’ and ‘Blessed is Mordechai.’” A person is obligated to become intoxicated—that means drinking more wine than usual on Purim, until he reaches a state where he does not know the difference between “Cursed is Haman” and “Blessed is Mordechai.” And this Gemara is cited as practical halachah. The Rambam brings it at the end of the Laws of Megillah; it appears in the Tur and the Shulchan Aruch, section 695, as practical halachah. And here we come to the question of questions—or really, two central questions that we’ll discuss today. Question number one: What is this, that halachah asks a person to drink more wine than usual? It’s highly unusual. In Judaism, we generally do not encourage excessive drinking. So much so that we see in halachah that even on days when the Torah commands us to rejoice—when the command to rejoice is itself from the Torah, as on the festivals: “You shall rejoice on your festival” and “You shall be only joyful”—halachah says we must be careful not to drink too much. The joy should be spiritual joy, inner joy, joy also expressed through song, music, and dancing. At the Simchas Beis Hashoeivah, of which the Gemara says, “Whoever did not see the joy of the Simchas Beis Hashoeivah never saw joy in his life”—even there, drinking was specifically not encouraged. On the contrary, halachah says that agents were sent on behalf of the beis din to make sure people were careful not to drink too much. Then Purim arrives, and not only

02:17 is it permitted, but it says: “A person is obligated to become intoxicated on Purim.” What is the meaning of this obligation? And the second question follows: the drinking is supposed to reach the point of “not knowing the difference between ‘Cursed is Haman’ and ‘Blessed is Mordechai’”—a person becomes so confused that he doesn’t know who is cursed and who is blessed. And here there is a simple question. We’ve just read the Megillah. A person is celebrating Purim; he knows the story very well. He listened to the Megillah reading. He read the Megillah not just as a story from the past, but as a story of the present. As we’ve discussed, a person needs to read the story of Purim and the Megillah as something alive. In every generation we have a Haman, and in every generation there is a Mordechai. So surely a person will want to cry out with all his heart, even if he drinks a lot of wine, “Cursed is Haman and blessed is Mordechai!” What exactly is the message? What is the purpose? What is the deeper meaning of drinking wine on Purim until a person doesn’t know who is cursed and who is blessed? What is this telling us? The great Torah scholars of every generation, both among the Rishonim and the Acharonim, have already discussed this question. There are, of course, many explanations. We’ll focus on its meaning as explained by the inner dimension of Torah, the teachings of Chassidus, which give us the deeper meaning of these matters. But before we move on to the inner explanation from Chassidus, I do want to introduce a few relevant points brought in the books, things connected with the plain meaning as well. First of all, on the plain level, why was the festival of Purim actually centered around drinking wine? As many commentators write, the explanation is very simple: the miracle of Purim is connected with drinking wine. When we look through the Megillah from beginning to end, we

04:20 see that the entire Purim story revolves around wine. Achashverosh loved drinking wine, and when he held his 180-day feast, one of the main things the Megillah emphasizes is that “the drinking was according to the law; no one was compelled”—“according to each person’s wishes.” There was a great deal of focus on drinking wine. Achashverosh held a wine feast, and then he had Vashti killed. At a wine feast, Achashverosh married Queen Esther. At a wine feast came the episode with Haman: when she invited Haman, and then on the second day, at the second wine feast, Haman fell. In other words, everything revolved around the fact that Achashverosh loved his drink so much, loved wine so much, that wine brought everything about. The mouth that forbade was the mouth that permitted. In one instance, wine led him to do foolish things; in another, because of wine, the Jewish people were saved. So we celebrate the festival around wine in remembrance of that wine. It’s a nice explanation, but it still doesn’t explain the deeper meaning. It doesn’t explain why we should drink wine to the point of “not knowing.” True, the commentators say that since it says there was drinking—how does it put it there?—“royal wine in abundance, according to the king’s bounty.” In other words, there was abundant royal wine at that feast, so we have abundant royal wine on the other side, in the joy of Purim. But that still doesn’t satisfy us. What is the deeper meaning? What is it about wine itself? Why does wine play such a central role on Purim? What is this all about? And how do we explain drinking to the point of “not knowing”? There is another very interesting explanation brought in the books. It appears in works of halachah as well—the Bach and the Taz, and the Magen Avraham in his commentary on the Shulchan Aruch, bring it from leading Rishonim. They say this is about gematria. There is

06:27 a very beautiful gematria: “Cursed is Haman” and “Blessed is Mordechai” have the same numerical value, 502. So what we’re being told here is that a person needs to be able to calculate that gematria. The numbers are the numerical values of the letters. When a person drinks too much, his calculations get confused; he has trouble counting and working out how it adds up. So that is the meaning of “until he does not know”: he can no longer calculate the gematria, how “Cursed is Haman” comes out to the same number as “Blessed is Mordechai.” This explanation comes from leading Rishonim and is brought in works of halachah. That means it has depth, too. Fine, it’s nice that the numbers are the same. But what does it mean? What does it signify? There is clearly something here. How can two things as opposed, as utterly opposite, as “Cursed is Haman” and “Blessed is Mordechai” have the same gematria, with the entire festival of Purim revolving around a person becoming confused about that gematria? That, too, tells us something we need to look into and understand. Then the Arizal comes and tells us something even more astonishing. In the writings of the Arizal, in Shaar Hakavanos and elsewhere, it is explained: What do our Sages mean when they speak of a person drinking wine on Purim? The Arizal says that it is specifically with regard to Haman that the drinking must bring a person beyond reason, to the point of “not knowing.” And when he is in that state of “not knowing,” he can give a blessing to Haman, says the Arizal. What does that mean? He explains that within Haman, within evil, there is a spark of G-dliness, a spark of holiness. After all, there is nothing in the world without some spark, a G-dly spark. Even evil has a G-dly spark within it. Without that, it would have no life at all; without that, it could not exist. And we Jews are in this world to seek out the good spark present in everything, even in the darkest things

08:36 And elevate them. So when a Jew on Purim reaches the state of “until he does not know,” he reveals the spark. That is the “blessed”: drawing the spark out of Haman. This also connects to what our Sages say: Haman’s descendants studied Torah. Haman symbolizes evil, darkness, antisemitism—and yet among Haman’s descendants was a spark of holiness, a spark found even in the darkest things. From them came Rabbi Shmuel bar Shilas, one of the great sages of the Talmud. So this is a very interesting explanation, but we also need to understand what it means for us. How do we understand it and translate it into something we can live with and bring into our daily lives? What message is Purim coming to tell us? Here Chassidus comes and explains the subject. Let’s begin with wine. Wine is made from grapes. “When wine enters, a secret comes out.” The wine is inside the grapes. Now, if you eat grapes, they’re tasty, they’re good—but don’t eat too many, because if you do, you’ll end up with a stomachache, and that won’t bring you joy. But if you make wine from grapes—through all the pressing and processing it takes to produce wine—wine has the quality of arousing joy. It brings a person to a state of joy. And more than that: “When wine enters, a secret comes out.” The “secret” here means the joyful part. A person has a natural joy in the soul. Our true secret is joy. The G-dly soul, the soul of every Jew, is joyful. The soul loves Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It rejoices that it is “truly a part of G-d above.” Joy is

10:58 something essential within us, but it remains hidden—a secret. “When wine enters, a secret comes out”; wine and “secret” even have the same numerical value. That means wine awakens the soul’s joy, a Jew’s joy in Hakadosh Boruch Hu. But to reach that point, you have to go through the process of pressing out the wine. As we said, while the wine is inside the grapes, they’re grapes, not wine. When you tread the grapes, the juice comes out and becomes wine; then, with time, it becomes wine that brings joy. What does this symbolize for us as the Jewish people? There is a wonderful lesson here for us as Jews. Every Jew has wine within. Every Jew has that joy and love—the tremendous joy a Jew feels in being Jewish, the love for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. It is inside us as Jews; it is part of our very essence. We inherited it from Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov, the holy Patriarchs. They bequeathed to the Jewish people, to the soul of each and every Jew, a natural love, a hidden love, a wonderful love for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. But what happens? It is covered, still inside the grapes. That love is concealed, enclosed in a peel. Sometimes it takes treading for that wine to come out. What does that mean in the story of Purim? That is the story of Purim’s history. The Jewish people were in Babylonian exile. It was a dark, difficult time. The First Beis Hamikdash had been destroyed, and the Children of Israel had gone into exile. There, we drifted away, may Hashem have mercy, from Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Slowly, as seventy years passed, we began to dry up Jewishly and spiritually—to the point that we enjoyed the feast of that wicked man. As the Gemara tells us, we enjoyed the feast. Here Achashverosh invites us and gives us a feast. Look at us: we Jews are becoming

13:22 part of it. That enjoyment was the beginning of feeling comfortable in exile, of forgetting the love and joy a Jew has in his soul. Then came Haman’s decree—a kind of pressure on the grapes, a kind of treading, through the decree and the tension the Jewish people endured at that time. As the Gemara says, the true purpose was to awaken the Jewish core. Hakadosh Boruch Hu brought about this entire process of Haman’s decree to awaken the Jew within the Jewish people. After all, as it says in the Megillah, this is the only place where the Jewish people are called “Jews.” The only place. The term also appears in Ezra and Nechemiah, but that all belongs to this same period, the period of Achashverosh. Suddenly, we are called Jews. A Jew—that is our essence. The word “Jew” is related to hoda’ah, acknowledgment. He acknowledges; he believes. He feels that this is the truth, and he is unwilling to separate himself from it. “Anyone who rejects idolatry is called a Jew,” says the Gemara in tractate Megillah. This was awakened precisely through that pressure. In other words, the wine, the secret, the true love and joy a Jew has for Hakadosh Boruch Hu—how do they emerge? Sometimes through treading and pressure. That pressure makes the wine, the joy, burst forth. That is the miracle of Purim. And that is why wine is so central and essential to the joy of Purim. But what does “until he does not know” symbolize? This is where that idea comes in. The Alter Rebbe explains that “not knowing” means rising above understanding. Here is a fundamental point that explains the difference between the wine-drinking of Achashverosh and Haman—the negative side—and a Jew’s wine-drinking on Purim. There is

15:47 a kind of wine-drinking in which “not knowing” is a form of escape. A person drinks wine and becomes drunk. He runs away from himself, from his worries, from his troubles; he runs away from himself, disconnects, and lives in a world of fantasy. But for a Jew, drinking wine, as we said, is meant to uplift the soul, to elevate it. “Not knowing” means rising to a level above understanding. Let’s put that in simple terms. In serving Hashem, there are two levels. There is service of Hashem based on intellect. On an ordinary day, in the normal course of daily life, a Jew—a wise and understanding people—serves Hakadosh Boruch Hu through intellect and feeling. You learn Torah, you see the beauty of the mitzvos, you understand why, the explanation and the reason. That gives you the desire and pleasure to learn, to fulfill, to act—to learn and teach, to observe, do, and fulfill. That is the usual way of serving Hashem. But we, as the Jewish people, have another way of serving Hashem: service with mesirus nefesh, self-sacrifice, service that is called “above reason and understanding.” At certain times, especially in moments of darkness, of trial and difficulty, intellect does not quite give us what we need. In the history of the Jewish people, there have been periods of darkness, periods when Hashem’s face was hidden, periods of harsh decrees. In such times, if a person serves Hashem only on the basis of intellect, he will have many questions and much that he cannot understand. He does not understand why or how—why we are still suffering, why there is so much darkness. There are so many questions. And precisely at those moments, a response called mesirus nefesh awakens in a Jew. My bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu is not only intellectual. My bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu is intrinsic, essential. It is

18:10 A bond beyond all limitations. Even where understanding ends, I am still connected, because I am a Jew and I am bound to Hakadosh Boruch Hu; it cannot be otherwise. As the Alter Rebbe often says, a Jew does not want to, and cannot, be separated from Hakadosh Boruch Hu. This bond was awakened on Purim. That is the story of Megillas Esther. When Haman came and decreed that all the Jews be destroyed, killed, and annihilated in a single day, what effect did it have on the Jewish people? Not a loss of spirit, not despair, not anxiety, not flight. Just the opposite. All the Jews gathered around Mordechai and stood firm: “We are with you, in life and in death.” As the Alter Rebbe says, throughout that entire year, from 13 Nissan to 13 Adar, all twelve months, the Jews stood ready for mesirus nefesh. We are Jews, and we will not give that up. Because if you look closely at the Megillah, Haman’s decree was never revoked. Achashverosh never revoked it, even though Haman had already been hanged by Pesach. The decree remained in force. Even when Achashverosh sent out letters in Sivan, they did not say that the decree was over. They did not say, “That’s it, we will protect the Jews; they will not be killed.” He never said that. Achashverosh only said that he was giving the Jews permission to defend themselves. So, G-d forbid, we could have chosen an easier path. But no one thought of an easier path. The Jews stood ready for complete mesirus nefesh throughout the year. We are Jews, and we will not give that up. And not only did they stand strong in their Judaism, their faith, Torah, and mitzvos; they even established communities. Mordechai held Torah classes, and groups of children gathered to learn. It was precisely this ordeal, this decree, that awakened in the Jews the fine wine,

20:37 that joy. And this is the meaning of “ad d’lo yada”—until one no longer knows. Here we reach the deeper point of Purim: When Achashverosh drinks wine, he becomes even coarser, even more materialistic. As the Megillah relates, what happened when he drank too much wine? How did he behave? With immodesty, with coarseness, in the most appalling way possible. A Jew drinks wine and rises to the highest place, beyond understanding. How is that expressed? In “ad d’lo yada,” in mesirus nefesh: “between ‘cursed is Haman’ and ‘blessed is Mordechai.’” And here the author of Tanya, the Alter Rebbe, gives us a wonderful explanation of what “ad d’lo yada between ‘cursed is Haman’ and ‘blessed is Mordechai’” means. It does not mean that he does not know who is cursed and who is blessed. No. He explains that the whole matter of “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordechai” is approached in a way of “not knowing.” In other words, listen closely, says the Alter Rebbe: “Cursed is Haman” means “turn away from evil.” “Blessed is Mordechai” means “do good.” “Cursed is Haman” means that a Jew is careful not to commit sins, not to do what is wrong. “Blessed is Mordechai” refers to all the holy and good things, the mitzvos a Jew performs. “Turn away from evil and do good.” I can perform mitzvos and avoid transgressions because I understand why this is good, so I do it; and why that is bad, so I do not do it. That is how things are throughout the year. Purim takes a Jew to an entirely different place. “Ad d’lo yada between ‘cursed is Haman’ and ‘blessed is Mordechai’”: I resolve with all my strength to be firm in both “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordechai”—to turn away from evil completely and do good completely. But not only because I understand. Not only

23:03 because it suits me, because it is good for me, because that is how I feel, or because it fits my personality. Rather, because that is what Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants. That is beyond understanding, because it is the Divine will. This self-surrender as mesirus nefesh in a time of persecution is one thing. But mesirus nefesh in daily life means surrendering my will to the Divine will—ad d’lo yada. On Purim, to rise to a level beyond understanding and give myself over to Hakadosh Boruch Hu so that even in “not knowing,” even beyond the intellect, where understanding ends, I remain absolutely firm—absolutely firm—in “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordechai.” What is forbidden is forbidden. What is obligatory is obligatory. What Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants is the Divine will, and I do it because that is what He wanted, because that is what Hakadosh Boruch Hu says. So what is the connection to the gematria—that “cursed is Haman” has the same gematria as “blessed is Mordechai”? Where does gematria come into this? Here the Rebbe adds a wonderful point. When a Jew serves Hashem according to his intellect, his feelings, and his personal sense of meaning, there is a very great difference for him between doing good and turning away from evil. These are two different directions in serving Hashem. One is when I study, daven, put on tefillin, wear tzitzis, add to—and that gives me a feeling of doing something, of activity. In each thing I see its beauty, what it accomplishes, the explanation for it, why we do it, and what I gain from it. That is one approach: doing, being active. When we deal with turning away from evil, with “cursed is Haman,” we are dealing with things that are bad, dirty, impure,

25:16 things the Torah forbids. So all the activity here takes the form of rejection, right? Pushing it away, putting it aside. A person might have a particular leaning—and we see this in human nature. Some people are more inclined toward doing and being active. They love bringing light and doing good. Ask me to do another mitzvah, another mitzvah to help a fellow Jew? Gladly, I’m there. But when it comes to forbidden things—“This is forbidden,” and too much of that—I don’t have the energy for all the stringencies and prohibitions. No, no, no, that’s not where I’m at. And sometimes it is the other way around. Some people naturally like to forbid things and be strict with themselves. When it comes to turning away from evil, that is where they are fully engaged. They take pleasure in restrictions, in making sure not to do all sorts of things. But taking action, doing a favor for another Jew—that is harder for them. It is a matter of personality. Some people are inclined toward doing; others are inclined toward turning away from evil. But the moment a person rises to “not knowing,” he serves Hashem because he sees the Divine will in everything; he looks at what Hakadosh Boruch Hu wants. Then there is no such distinction. It is not “turn away from evil” versus “do good.” There is no difference. “Turn away from evil” and “do good” have the same gematria. He sees one point in everything: this is the Divine will. So his entire outlook is completely different. That is the deeper meaning of their having the same gematria: to tell us that when a Jew reaches “not knowing,” when he rises beyond understanding to serve Hashem with devotion beyond reason, he comes to recognize that “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is Mordechai” are one and the same matter. In Tanya, the Alter Rebbe

27:23 He says it in one line: What difference does it make to me whether it’s a positive mitzvah or a prohibition, whether it’s “turn away from evil” or “do good”? They are all commandments of the one and only holy King, blessed be He. They are entirely the Supernal Will. That’s where I stand. And from here we come to the great insight the Arizal reveals to us: to uncover the holy spark, the G-dly spark, within “cursed Haman.” In everyday life, that means seeing the light, the spark of holiness, even in the darkest things. Seeing the spark within the darkness can take many forms. Sometimes a person says, “Why should I get involved in anything dirty? Why should I go to places that aren’t so, uh, sheltered? Why should I go out at all? I want to stay in the beis midrash, in yeshivah, in kollel, within the four cubits of halachah. Why go out into the street to look for a Jew who is far from Torah and mitzvos? Why should I get myself dirty?” But once you know that the G-dly spark is there, and that your task is to seek it out and reveal it, you have nothing to fear. Still, to see the spark of light within the darkness, a person must rise to a place of “not knowing.” In other words, we need to surrender ourselves to the Supernal Will. If my service of Hashem is entirely planned out and explained, with everything built on reason, then we really can sometimes get dirty. Many people asked at the time why the Lubavitcher Rebbe sent his young men, his students, out into the streets to put tefillin on Jews, read the Megillah, and distribute Shabbos candles. They went to all kinds of places where there might be immodesty, a lack of purity and holiness. Where does the strength for that come from? The answer is ad delo yada, “until one does not know.” When a Jew awakens that essential point, when a Jew awakens within himself the point of

29:58 mesirus nefesh, he rises to a place beyond understanding. He knows that he is connected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu, who is beyond understanding, and so he can act and reveal the light even within the darkness. And since we’re speaking about light within darkness, we must, of course, speak about the time we’re living in—“in those days, at this time.” Looking at it with ordinary eyes, we see a period of darkness, a time when Hashem’s face is hidden. The entire Megillas Esther—where is Esther alluded to in the Torah? “I will surely hide My face on that day.” So it is here, within this darkness, that we must reveal the spark of light, reveal the holiness within this whole reality. Through the joy of Purim, we reveal the wine, the secret, the joy hidden within every Jew, awakening love for Hakadosh Boruch Hu. That is the very foundation and essence of Purim. We rise a little beyond understanding and connect to the Infinite; we connect to Hakadosh Boruch Hu on this holy day of Purim. As we’ve already discussed, Purim and Yom Kippur come from the same source, which illuminates every Jew’s essential yechidah, the intrinsic bond with Hakadosh Boruch Hu. Then we can bring about “it was reversed”: from “cursed Haman,” from the great darkness, we turn it into “blessed Mordechai”—turn darkness into light, turn willful sins into merits, turn this entire difficult, bitter exile around. May we truly merit to see with our physical eyes the great light of the Purim miracle of our generation. “The Jews had light and joy, gladness and honor”—may it be so for us.