Around the time of the annual holiday of Chanukah, in December, we read the story of Joseph as we continue our annual march, week after week, through the parshyot (chapters) of the Torah.
Oddly enough, this part of the Torah, the story of how Joseph interprets Pharaoh's dreams and saves the entire region from famine, clearly -- and uncannily -- alludes to Purim, another Jewish festival coming up a couple of months after Chanukah.
That there is a link between Chanukah and Purim we all know from our siddur (prayer book). Every day, when we pray, we see the special section called "Al Hanisim," where we describe the miracles G-d did for us -- but we say this section only on Chanukah and Purim. Within this Al Hanisim section, each festival has its own paragraph describing the miracles done for us for that particular festival.
Chanukah, we know, was the re-dedication of the Holy Temple, after the Maccabees, a brave group of priests, became warriors, and ousted Assyrian rulers bent on preventing Jewish learning, worship and practice.
Purim is the story of how the entire population of Jews in the Persian empire were threatened with annihilation by the evil Haman, and how G-d pulled some strings behind some curtains, and created situations which through Mordechai and Esther, the heroes of the Purim story, the entire population of Jews was saved.
Jewish law indicates that there is to be greater physical enjoyment during Purim, involving eating, drinking, and sharing food and money because the physical survival of the Jewish people was at issue.
Chanukah was a more spiritual form of salvation because it meant re-establishing the services in the Holy Temple, and, therefore, does not require the kind of celebratory meal we are obliged to have on Purim to experience our salvation in a physical way.
And yet there is some peculiar evidence in scriptural writings which call this demarcation of types of joy into question.
Before the Holy Temple was built by Solomon, his father, King David, brought the Ark of the Covenant -- which would later be housed in the Holy of Holies in the Temple --to Jerusalem.
Before David's time as King, the Ark had briefly been captured by the Phillistines who were persuaded by their own advisers to give it back to the Jews after enduring a series of mini-plagues. Since its return, the Ark had been kept in Israel but it was David who brought it to Jerusalem.
Upon bringing this spiritual centre of Judaism to its rightful home, King David walked alongside the Ark as it was being transported back, and ... danced ecstatically like a madman, like a crazy fool, like someone who'd had more than a few too many.
His wife, Michal, the daughter of the previous king, Saul, berated David, saying his behaviour was unbecoming of a king of Israel -- to which David replied that this was why he was King of Israel, and Michal's father was not -- that he was the kind of king G-d preferred. (He later, I believe, apologized to her for saying such a hurtful thing).
What was David doing that occasioned his dancing? Exactly what the Maccabees did. Bringing the Holy Ark to its spiritual home, amongst the people. The Phillistines of an earlier day were like the Hellenists of the Maccabees' day. They both thought themselves superior to the G-d of the Ark of the Covenant. King David, although not engaged with the Phillistines at the time, was bringing the Ark home to the centre of Judaism.
Since in David's time, the physical survival of the people was not the issue, we must view this as a celebration of the spiritual side of Judaism. Unlike our current view of such distinctions, however, King David thought this was indeed an occasion for dancing with wild abandon -- the kind of behaviour we usually reserve for Purim -- and its physical form of salvation.
Then, there's the Torah itself. It's noodging us to remember Purim while we are celebrating Chanukah.
How? By drawing an uncanny collection of parallels between the story of Joseph and the story of Mordechai.
So while the calendar says it's time for Chanukah, the Torah says it's time for Purim.
How does Megillat Esther, the book of Purim end? By saying that after G-d arranged behind the scenes for Mordechai to save the Persian king Achashverosh' life, Mordechai was "mishneh le melech," second to the king.
Gee, that sounds a lot like Joseph in the Torah, no? After saving Pharaoh -- and everybody else -- because G-d helped him interpret Pharaoh's dream and to advise him how to avoid disaster -- what did Joseph become? Why, what a coincidence, he also became second to the King, as the new Viceroy of Egypt.
How was Mordechai's appointment announced? After he had worn sackcloth and ashes in a previous part of the history, he was given royal robes to wear, and sent on a parade through the people with much pomp and ceremony.
How was Joseph's appointment announced? After he had worn plain prison garb from the previous part of his history, Joseph was given royal robes to wear, and paraded through the people with much pomp and ceremony, in the "mishneh," the word we find to describe Mordechai in the last sentence of the Megillah, which is the same name explicitly given in the Torah for the royal chariot of ... the second in command.
You would be right to say that the above is more than enough evidence for us to infer that the Torah is telling us that the story of Joseph alludes to the story of Mordechai and Purim. The actions described are virtually identical.
And yet, the clincher, the evidence that seals the deal has not even been mentioned yet, and here it is:
What is the name Pharaoh gives Joseph in his new capacity of Viceroy?
"Tsaphnat Paney-ach."
And what might this mean? It means "The Revealer of Hidden Things," appropriately, for Joseph's dream interpretations.
But what does this remind us of?
"Megillat Esther," is nominally, the "Book of Esther" but what do the sources tell us the real meaning of "Megillat Esther" is?
They say it means "The Revealing" (Megilla = Giluy) of "Hidden Things" (Esther -- from Seter -- hidden, secret).
So G-d and the Torah are giving us a little noodge, here. Joseph's new name actually means the same as "Megillat Esther." How can we not, then, think of Purim, even if we're reading this in the Torah, during the time of Chanukah?
Now, then, what are we reading in the Torah when Purim comes around on the calendar?
Why, we're reading about the Mishkan, the Tabernacle in the desert. And what does G-d say about that? "Ve-asu li Mikdash," a clear allusion to the Beit Ha Mikdash -- the Holy Temple -- which just happens to be what the Maccabees re-opened in the story of Chanukah.
Clearly, the Torah, in my view, as hinted at by the siddur, is telling us that Chanukah and Purim are one, and that while we are celebrating Chanukah, we should also be thinking of Purim, and, yes, celebrating more physcially and joyfully. And to remind us what the purpose of a Jew is, when we are celebrating joyfully on Purim, the Torah is telling us to remember the holiness and sacredness of the Holy Temple. In fact, if people were to remember the mystical, holy purpose of getting so drunk on Purim that one can no longer see a disctinction between "Blessed is Mordechai, and cursed is Haman," we would retain more respect for Hashem and our own lives while in the throes of our celebrating. We would, in essence, get drunk more responsibly, i.e. not with the giddy, careless abandon which can -- G-d forbid --lead to tragic accidents, but with the joy of communing with a higher holiness and purpose.
And what of the distinction between the two episodes in our history, that Chanukah was a spiritual salvation while Purim was the saving of the entire body of the Jewish people?
I think by alluding to the saving of our bodies when we celebrate the saving of our souls, and to the the saving of our souls when we celebrate the saving of our bodies, the Torah is telling us that body and soul must be one entity. The salvation of the soul and physical survival must always go hand in hand, in Judaism.
As it says in the Shema Yisrael prayer where we acknowledge that G-d is One, we are told to unify our own various elements, as well. "Love your G-d with all your heart, all your soul, and all your ways."
A Jew should have his body and soul together, both in service to Hashem. The uniqueness of Judaism is that we don't sacrifice one element for the other. We elevate and celebrate both -- in service of G-d. G-d saved us in different ways on
Chanukah and Purim but it was the same G-d and He wants us to know that He is One, and, as mysterious as it may seem to us who are composed of so many different elements, spiritually, physically, emotionally, and intellectually, so are we.
