“Save it for Purim!” was the response I would get from adults when I was a kid acting silly on a regular Tuesday afternoon. As long as I remember, Purim has been the day where even the more sober-minded, serious individuals let loose, get drunk and let off some of the steam they’d been holding in for a year straight. Naturally, someone reading this will attack me saying I don’t understand the spiritual nature of Purim and that God-forbid it’s not at all about letting loose, and everything is spiritual, and I need to go back to yeshiva. To those people I say, let’s for a second take a step back and see what people are actually doing versus what they say they are doing. I’m not doubting that there is a spiritual awakening experience on Purim, I’ve even felt it myself. There is arguably however an element of letting go on Purim.
A Russian author wrote:
“Those who never drink are either very ill or secretly hate their friends and family.”
I’d like to modify this quote by saying that if you’re so tense and serious that you can’t enjoy yourself on Purim then please lock yourself in a room and try not to ruin it for everyone else.
Because the Karens of the community have always tried to mess with Purim, even before the pandemic. This year I see the local Jewish PC police sending out messages discouraging people from offering drinks to strangers, lest you offend a recovering alcoholic. Every year it’s drink less, eat less, dance less, learn more, pray more. You’re entitled to your point of view.
You are entitled to your attempts to sabotage everyone’s Purim until it resembles an ordinary day. You are to Purim, what Cuomo is to New York.
Personally I crave a normal Purim like a thirsty man in the desert. Purim to me is the day where we back up the camera and observe the absurdity of this thing called life. It’s a day where we play with ideas of moral relativism by drinking to the point of being unable to distinguish between the piety of Mordechai and the evil of Haman. It's a day of dressing up and shedding the identity we carry throughout the year. Most importantly it's the day we share gifts and break bread with our friends and family. In person.
Purim all year is impossible. During the year we are forced to make choices, identify with our decisions, and take life seriously. On Purim we recognize the absurdity behind it all. Sure one can view the story of Purim as an absurd comedy and recognize what a cartoon-like villian Haman was, and how quickly he went from being the most celebrated man on earth to a carcass hanging from a tree. But only in retrospect. Had we lived in those days, there would be nothing funny about Haman. We would be scared to death. But now we can laugh...
To me Judaism walks the perfect line between the cynical nihilistic reality which is life, and the utmost seriousness with which we are forced to take life. Life is one hand absurd and yet it's all we have. So every day we wake up, we live life, we build, we grow, we care so much about everything. For me, I need to step back once in a while and laugh at the entire thing.
Please don’t cancel Purim.