Hiding and Flipping: Holiday of Purim Mirrors Life

Two themes pervade the Jewish Holiday of Purim, which celebrates the events in the Book of Esther this Saturday night-to-Sunday night.  The first is hidden-ness.  Just as Esther (who hides her real name, Hadassa) actually means "hidden," and her disguised background allows her to rescue Persian Jews from genocide (in approximately 356 BCE), we internalize that God may be hidden in our world, but remains in control.

The second theme is "flipping." The Purim story is one of bad flipping to good, in an astounding series of opposites reversing. Haman, the bad guy, gets hung on the gallows he prepared for Mordechai, Esther's uncle/guardian/husband--who flips from a death sentence (and cause of the decree to kill all Jews) to Viceroy.  Jews are first targeted for annihilation, then empowered to kill all anti-Semites.  We are reminded that any given moment could radically shift the very basis of our lives.

Japan. The earth lurches and thousands of lives are lost. The sea rears, and thousands more extinguished.  Everything appears orderly. Then it is chaos.

In the Israeli community of Itamar, a family sleeps peacefully.  Then an anti-Semitic intruder enters and slices a baby's throat, kills 4- and 11-year old children, murders both the parents and slips away.  The Fogel family attacked for the mere fact of being Jewish.

Most often, healthy turns to endangered or gone; stately turns to disgraced, or secure to shaky.  But the Book of Esther offers the hope of turnaround in the other direction.  Peril can shift to calm, and desperation to relief.  Pain can subside, and tension can convert to peace.

One excellent point covered in a Torah class I enjoyed this week is the ongoing need to unceasingly recognize that all reversals are ultimately God's, and that at a given moment, we are often unable to see a grander plan that will prevail.  Jews fast on the day before Purim (this year a bit earlier due to the intervention of the Sabbath).  This is not in emulation of Esther's three day fast before approaching King Ahashverus, but rather Jews' preparation for any act of war.  After Esther and Mordechai's triumph over Haman, when Jews were about to execute the decree allowing them to eliminate their enemies, they humbled themselves and fasted, in submission to the Force they knew would control whether they succeeded or failed.

It is this understanding of the behind-the-scenes Power that runs our lives moment-to-moment that motivates Jews to this day to fast before the most celebratory and revelry-filled holiday of Purim.  This year we are especially conscious of the way life can turn around in an instant.  With the tension of this week's events in mind, we will drink and dress in costume and celebrate Purim reassured that even shocking and discouraging events are ultimately for the good, and that you can't count on things to be just as they seem.

Purim Costume Musings--and Dangers

Addendum to previous post about Purim costumes (which you should read to make sense of the first half of this post):

I'd been debating a suggestion that my mustashio'd husband portray Super Mario, who has a feature that would work perfectly: a pert, red newsboy cap, boasting a prominent letter "M." But we'd still need the outfit's basics, and where could we borrow those overalls? Not many farmers in our suburb, and this would be a one-wearing purchase.

My husband's sartorial taste goes to plaid flannel lumberjack shirts and "relaxed" jeans. But costuming him as Paul Bunyan is lame, and I'm not sure how I'd dress up as Babe, the Big Blue Ox. And Babe doesn't cast the flattering silhouette I normally prefer. (I could wear blue head-to-toe, paint my face and top it with fake horns on a headband, but I'd be a rather pathetic enormous beast.)

How am I going to motivate my man to trade his usual shlumpy attire for something more fanciful? My only hope might be to start the festival's imbibing with some of his favorite craft beers a little early.

If we go with the Mario scenario, my daughter says a friend of hers could perhaps loan me the pink tube dress that was her Princess Peach garb at a recent party. Since when is a tube dress appropriate for a princess? I'll think about buying some pink netting or tulle to pouf it out a little. Then I'll look like a frumpy ballerina...

Just a few more days to put this together. I think we need some further help here--please!

Now I'm going to tell you the story of the picture, below. I cannot restrain my laughter every time I see it.

Our middle child, who is very creative and independent, at age 7 decided she was going to make her own Purim costume, and that it had to be...a box of Cheerios. She searched until she found a corrugated box that was large enough to cover her body, a rectangle not-too-deep so it would look just like the Cheerios box (ie a rectangular prism). She covered it with yellow paper and painstakingly copied the lettering and bowl of oat circles she saw on the front of the cereal, including, of course, the huge "O-U," the letter U inside a circle that indicates its contents are certified kosher. She cut out holes for her head and arms, and left the bottom open for her legs.

On the night of Purim, she needed assistance to lift the box over her head, and pull her limbs through the holes. With her hair in a ponytail with matching yellow headband, off we all went to hear the reading of the Book of Esther (Megilat Esther) at the Chabad House in Seattle's University District. It's a brick building in the style of Chabad's 770 Eastern Parkway headquarters, with lots of steep stairways.

As we were walking down to the level where the Megilla would be read, my daughter, unable to see her feet, slipped and ended up on her back in the stairwell, flailing like a flipped tortoise in its shell. In the photo, a friend and my other daughter (back to camera) were trying valiantly to right my Cheerios girl, stuck supine an interminable couple of minutes.

I do love that child (she's the one who texted me about Mario). Don't even ask what happened when she got into her head that she just had to go the next Purim as a bunch of grapes--the fruit-'o-the-vine being blown up purple balloons...

Mario and Princess Peach? Or--how to dress for Purim?

The Jewish holiday of Purim is fast approaching, and I'm scrambling to find costumes for my husband and me.

To be honest, my husband, the curmudgeon, eschews costumes, which are much more than mere folly on this most joyous and raucous of Jewish festivals. Purim celebrates the events described in the Book of Esther--when Persia's King Ahashverosh was persuaded by Queen Esther, a Jew taken to the royal harem against her will, to nullify evil minister Haman's genocidal decree. This is the one scripture where God's name is never mentioned (except in code), which exemplifies the theme of the holiday--the hidden nature of God. In that vein, we wear costumes to hide our external identities, and imbibe alcohol so we internalize the confusion of reality with appearances.

So my husband's reluctance to dress up represents more than mere laziness or embarrassment--it's a small rebellion. Especially when I go to the trouble of creating a costume for him. In the past, he's been more amenable--one notable year when I was about to give birth to our second daughter, I made Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head costumes from burlap bags, cutting out and drawing enormous features from posterboard, and buying him a silly plastic bowler hat. Another year I made us both Zorro costumes; I got t-shirts and bandannas from the Army surplus store when we were bikers. The shirts were black, and read, "Kill 'em all; let God sort 'em out" (I think it was). Somebody asked if he was in the so-and-so military unit, which apparently used that logo.

But for many years now, he won't dress up at all. I go all out, 'natch, looking completely ridiculous in my half yellow-half red jester costume with matching dual-pointed and pom-pom'd hat (I paint my face half red, half yellow, of course). A couple years ago when it was pertinent, I was Martha Stewart, with my apron and toque over a striped prison uniform, ankle bracelet dangling. When Disney was the theme of a Purim seuda we attended (the luncheon that is one of the four Purim mitzvot, ie commandments), I came as Minnie Mouse, with red, white and black polka dot skirt, proper ears with bow, whiskers and tail.

So Purim has quickly returned and once again, I'm faced with the costume dilemma. But yesterday, my daughter texted me with the message, "All my friends decided that (my husband) has to go as Mario, and you should be Princess Peach!" Her friends, evidently, agreed that my husband looks like Mario, with his dark mustache. I know nothing about the Super Mario games, but thanks to Google, I found that all I need to be Princess Peach Toadstool is a poufy pink dress and a tiara.

But after clicking through 158 pages of costumes online, all I found was a too-short, flirty version of Princess Peach, a polyEsther (couldn't resist) number for about $50. I've never bought a costume before and certainly won't (and all my previous home-made attempts fill three huge bags of assorted garb and props). I don't own a pink poufy dress, alas. What to do? Purim's next Monday night and Tuesday! Ideas?

Purim: Best Time for a Game of Kings

Can't believe it's nearly Purim already. Which shouldn't be a surprise, given that this is a Jewish leap year and we've had an extra MONTH to prepare! But the daffodils are just now in full flower, brightening up the nearly consistent gray and rain here in the Northwest. The forsythia bushes are brilliant yellow as well, shocking the bland pavement and monochrome sky into embracing springtime.
Meanwhile, my family room is ablaze with a rainbow of tissue paper splaying from colorfully prepared bags of shaloch manos (food gifts for friends). Tomorrow night, we host a break-fast pot luck dinner party, this time featuring a new activity (beyond the "write a gramin song for the person whose name you drew out of the hat" that we enjoy every year). It's a college drinking game called "Kings" that for the evening we're calling "King Achashverosh" where cards drawn from a deck indicate silly behaviors to do that ultimately end in a swig. And laughs.

My sorority daughter has just regaled me with descriptions of drinking games. Not that she's played them all, but just about every college student finds out about them by osmosis. I WAS looking for something new and fun to play at our party. And if Purim isn't the occasion for a drinking game, then when? I'm going to provide some beverage selections, including a punch made from fruit sherbet, 7-Up and Cranberry juice, spiked with vodka. Save the recipe--it's yummy.

My wish for you is to have a "Chag Purim Sameach," a very happy Purim. And don't forget that every day of our survival is a miracle, even if it isn't always obvious.

Purim Gifts

We have the remnants of received shaloch manos (Purim gift baskets of food) all over our kitchen. For dinner tonight, I ate...I'll confess it...twelve hamentashen. That's all, just the hamentashen, nothing else.

Purim is past; can't believe it. What an intense weekend, with Shabbat, then immediately, Purim. The holiday in which we remember that God is hidden but constantly in control; where we are hidden in costumes, and can deceive via externals for either good or ill. Purim: The celebration where we get slightly inebriated (reminds me of the Almost Live skit of "songs of the slightly inebriated," my favorite of which is, "I'm gonna beat that train!") until we no longer perceive the difference between curse Haman and praise Mordechai. Or, we drink some, fall asleep, and while in dream-land fulfill the mitzvah by being basically unconscious.

So festive! So happy! Then what was the stress I felt? Could it have been...shaloch manos???

The task of making my shaloch manos started last Tuesday, when I spent all day combing my fave cheapo stores for ingredients to put in the baskets. And my ultimate happy hunting ground of all stores is Big Lots--does anybody else (beside my partner in crime Doubletee) love BIG LOTS like I do? This is the store where everything is cheap and some things are CHEEEEAP (stupid ideas that nobody should have manufactured in the first place) and a LOT of things are good-and-cheap.
This store has zero ambiance. Maybe negative-two ambiance. The premise of Big Lots is to sell stuff that is repackaged, discontinued, got on the wrong train, or purchaser couldn't pay--and so carloads of respectable and weird goods get shlepped to this bargain store that is, in itself, slightly akimbo.
And so I approached Big Lots with the noble mission, nay, MITZVAH of filling shaloch manos! And indeed, goodies were laid in wait for me...candy, cookies, tea, condiments...and of course I would only stuff my shaloch manos with ingredients that I myself would love to receive! Two Hundred Thirty dollars later, I emerge from Big Lots, shopping cart overflowing with expensive-looking treats bought a fraction of their worth. And a floor lamp that uses full-spectrum bulbs (see previous post about searching for bright light) and face cream with Dead Sea Minerals and band-aids and two kinds of shampoo and a fiberglass pot for the garden...
Then, a stop at DOLLAR TREE! Such glee at the 'Tree! Where everything costs..what do you think? Where I find computer paper with swirls of turquoise and hot pink, goop to clean grease, aisles of fringed and ribbon'd gift bags, aluminum pans and shaloch manos ingredients galore! No, this is NOT shlock manos! It's great stuff, like jars of salsa, sundried tomatoes, roasted red peppers, hot sauce, tortilla chips! All kosher! And gaily-colored wire wastebaskets to hold it all!
The final destination--do I dare? TRADER JOE'S! Wild for that kosher selection! And, since I eschew the brown paper lunchbag, or paper plate with a napkin-type shaloch manos, I go for the gold--KOSHER FRENCH WINE! A full-sized bottle, not those whussy mini-sized ones--of merlot, chardonnay, cabernet sauvignon! And granola, coffee, chocolate-covered pretzels, kalamata olives, soup and cheeses! Heart be STILL! Gimme that hot, hot, hot SHALOCH MANOS!!
Wednesday...Thursday...it's the Fast of Esther, but I must get those Shaloch Manos ready to go, because tomorrow I cook for Shabbat!
The family room is the staging area. To do: Twenty big baskets for the "A" list and 10 for the "B" list (no wine for them!) Make the assembly line: separate piles of jars of sundried tomatoes, Twizzers, boxes of fruit rolls, the cases of wine, the salsa. The cluster of unusual ingredients for the special baskets--the rabbi who needs all pareve, the friend with an allergy.
THE TAGS! Run up to my computer and call up the template saved from last year with the wacky font; print on canary yellow paper, cut out the tags with crazy-edged scissors; affix three colorful star stickers to each one.
Now get out the ladder to retrieve the bag from the top of the closet with the shredded straw to pad the baskets! The straw saved from the big cellophane'd fruit gift tray with a foot of filler-straw at the bottom topped with three pears, two apples and an orange. The straw pulls apart, sticking to the front of my clothes with magnetic force, shredding further to become irremovable stick-lint in my carpet.
Time to fill each basket, and now my hands and my heart focus on the task at hand...and the recipients of each basket. I think of each person, each family for whom I carefully craft an assortment....her child can't eat peanuts...she gets two pounds of Starbucks coffee since she hosts my Thursday class...that family likes health food...this family loves chocolate...he likes olives... Each of them is special, and as I balance the wine upright, and arrange the jars and bottles and packages, each collection is about the individuals who make up my community, who make up my context. The people whose kindness, sincerity, effort and generosity elevate our little world with sweetness, with cohesiveness.

I enclose each heavy basket in a white plastic bag, and cut lengths of gold, turquoise and magenta ribbon. I tie each in a bow, and pull the ends past opened scissors to make cascading curls, twisting the ribbon so it falls just so, with the shiny side out, the happy side out.

And that is the essence of Purim. We hide our selves, our gifts, in costumes, and offer from our inner selves gifts to others--money as charity for the poor, and shaloch manos to our friends. And this way, perhaps with a bit of lubrication, we allow our shiny side, our happy side, to face outward.