It’s not the merriment. It’s the ‘upside down.’ We’ve got that in spades.
Purim in 2020 seemed to mark the last major, unrestrained, normal, un-COVID-burdened Jewish holiday, at least in Jewish consciousness. Little did we know that it was the crowds last Purim that, in fact, constituted “super-spreaders,” signaling the descent into sickness and death on a scale no one could have predicted, and that most people on the globe had never experienced.
So here we are, just ahead of Purim, one year later. We could certainly look at this as an extraordinarily sad anniversary. We could bemoan the fact that, the invention and release of the COVID vaccines notwithstanding, the prospects for the upcoming Purim next Friday are not promising. Rabbis around the country advise against large crowds, require socially distanced Megillah readings (if that), tell us not to shout and drown out “Haman” for fear of spreading the virus. Etc. Etc. What kind of Purim is that?
Take a deeper look. It’s a perfect Purim. Purim is “nahafoch hu,” turning everything upside down, as when the Jews in ancient Persia turned upside down Haman’s plans to kill us — and, as we dress up in costumes and act wacky, turning upside down our own lives for one day.
Well, then, why not turn Purim itself upside down?
What could be more in the Purim spirit than to act on Purim unlike the way we act on any other Purim?
What could more get us to dig below our surface lives by wearing the weirdest Purim mask of all — the mask of normalcy?
Whatever Purim rituals we can muster — a quieter, spaced out Megillah reading, or a quick deposit of Purim food gifts (mishlo’ach manot) on the doorstep of friends, or a check written to a food bank rather than placed in the hands of a poor person —can be accompanied by awareness. Purim awareness. Rescue from genocide awareness.
No or very small Purim costume contests, no or little jousting about, no or little drinking with friends, older students, teachers or neighbors. As all of these Purim favorites meet the stringent party-pooper demands of COVIDrestrictions, we shall have more opportunity to contemplate just what nahafochu hu —turning everything upside down — means.
Finally, cardiac Judaism will get its day. Remember, cardiac Judaism? I’m a Jew at heart. As a voluntary spiritual strategy, this would mark the end of the line for Judaism. As an involuntary strategy when COVIDis still with us (albeit, we hope, in reduced dimensions), what could turn upside down all of the time-honored colorful Purim more than: think it, feel it, remember it, mark it, celebrate it, relish it, tell it, laugh at its absence or its shrinkage?
Carrying that mentality into the upcoming Purim, we can say of it this year, as we say in advance of Purim every year, we can’t wait.
Not to mention: triple your bet. Residents of Jerusalem this year, because of a rare quirk in the Jewish calendar, will celebrate “Purim meshulash” — three days of Purim. How they’ll manage it during the pandemic, we’ll leave to them. But just thinking about it — what could be more discombobulating than three days of Purim? Bring ‘em on!
Copyright © 2021 by the Intermountain Jewish News
