Bringing God into Purim - a contradiction? Purim is all
about the hiddenness of God.
A worldwide annihilation decree for the Jews is met with
terror and anxiety. Anarchy lets loose, and - so unlike other stories in the
Tanach - God does not show up to save them. Even God's name is ominously absent
from the Story of Esther. No one overtly hears from God, talks to God or even
senses God with any certainty in their life. The tension of the Megila climaxes
in two words - poignant and obscure: 'Who knows...?'
What happens when we sense the absence of God from our
lives? From our world? What happens when
God is hidden?
The feeling of forsakenness is perhaps the most depleting
experience in life.
What happens to my life - my core existence - during these forsaken
periods of time? During times of darkness and detachment?
Rav Kook would say that - since I am created in the Image of
God - my relationship to myself mirrors my relationship to God.
If God is hidden from me, then I too - created in the
Image of God - may feel hidden - from myself.
For me, sometimes this emptiness is just too intimidating to
confront. To escape or deny it, I sometimes just try to keep busy, to keep going,
giving the classic Israeli answer to life: "Hakol b'seder." Everything's
okay. But sometimes everything is not okay.
What do I do when darkness descends like a black cloud on my
life? How can I emerge from these moments of forsakenness, of loneliness, of
aloneness? Of hiddenness?
Purim - the archetypal moment of God's hiddenness - provides
a path: giving gifts of Mishloach Manot - fun and often frivolous food
packages - to friends and relatives and community members. Mishloach Manot
- is a separate mitzvah from providing food for the needy or welcoming in the
stranger. It is offering food to a friend, someone who is probably not going to
go hungry. Someone who may have everything they need and more. It is not needed
in the pure sense of the word. It is an unnecessary kindness, the renewal of a
connection, the reminder of a bond.
More important than the gift is the act of giving:
Perhaps Purim is helping us to emerge from the darkness of
being strangers to our own souls by encouraging us to connect not only to
someone else - but also to "the God that is within me", to my Image of God. I
have found that acts of kindness can do that.
I recently gave an Ayeka session to a group of women
and when I mentioned Mishloach Manot a collective groan surfaced in the
room. "It's such a burden." "It's too competitive - who can give the most
original and the best." "It's too fake. I'm not going to give to someone just
because I'm expected to."
Perhaps this year we can give mishloach manot in a different
way. Not only for the receiver, but also for ourselves. Let's try to give Mishloach
Manot with a focus on discovering the Image of God within ourselves. The
Image of a Creator who gives - just for the sake of showing another that he or
she is Beloved.
I become a bit less hidden from myself when I do an act
of giving for someone else. Removing the hiddenness of God in my life may actually
start with removing the hiddenness of my "Image of God" within.
Questions for Reflection:
