by Rabbi Shlomo Goldberg

Al Pi Darko - According to His Way
Insights into Chinuch from the Weekly Sedra

Approximately a decade ago an autobiography was written recounting the courageous struggle of a religious Jew who became a fighter in the partisan resistance during WWII. His story was filled with much self-sacrifice and struggle on every possible level. One of the hopes that kept his faith alive and courage strong was that one day he would survive the war and return to his home and his family.

He did survive the war. But he survived only to find that there was no more home and there was no more family. He encountered desolation and sadness that he had not known as a partisan fighter. It was loneliness born of a feeling that there was no one left with whom to love, to learn or to relate.

It seems that this would also have been the reality for anyone who would have survived the decrees against the Jews by Haman and King Achashverosh. Perhaps for this reason Purim is the only holiday in which the mitzvos of the day are all between a Jew and his/her co-religionist (rather than between a Jew and G-d). The mitzvos of sending gifts and charity to the poor are clearly for the purpose of creating a feeling of love and unity amongst all Jews. The mitzva of having a meal on Purim day is also most appropriately fulfilled, as it says in the Megillah, family by family. Finally the reading of the Megillah itself is best performed amongst a gathering of large numbers of Jews. It seems that since the desire of Haman was nothing short of complete annihilation of the Jews, we relive our salvation through mitzvos that celebrate the fact that we still have other Jews with whom we can rejoice. There is, however, an even deeper connection between our salvation from death to life, and our sages' wisdom in consecrating these events with mitzvos between man and his fellow man. If we are to celebrate life, then we must realize that we are only truly alive when we are immediately and intimately involved in the lives of other people.

Rav Wolbe, shlita, writes that Hebrew is the only language in the world in which the word for life appears only in the plural-chaim. In fact the yud, yud mem ending to a noun in Hebrew is used specifically for those things that come in pairs, for example mishgafaim (eyeglasses), michnasaim (trousers), yadaim (hands) etc. It seems that HaShem is telling us through His holy language that a life lived alone is not a life.

The Talmud has its own Rip Van Winkle story in the persona of Choni HaMaagal. Our sages relate that Choni HaMaagal fell asleep for forty years and awoke in a different generation. He proceeded immediately to the study hall of the city (he was, after all, seventy years late for morning prayers) and found the rabbis of the time involved in a difficult section of the Talmud. Having fruitlessly pondered the question that posed such difficulty for quite some time, one of the rabbis exclaimed, "If only Choni Hamaagal was still alive! He would surely have been able to answer our questions."

Choni HaMaagal, overhearing their conversation and their invocation of his name, walked into the study hall as if on cue and said, "I am he!" He then proceeded to give a proper explanation of the topic in the Talmud that was causing them such difficulty.

But no one was able to understand his answer! Coming as he did from a previous generation, and believing as we do in the decline of generations, there was no one around who could understand him, no one with whom he could learn, and thereby no one with whom he could meaningfully share life. Eventually the Rabbis asked HaShem to have mercy upon him, and Choni HaMaagal returned his soul to HaShem. From this experience our sages taught, "O chavrusa, o mesusa-Give me friendship or give me death."

The Book of Job provides a similar insight. It is the story of Hashem testing whether Job would be able to remain steadfast in his faith even in the face of great adversity. Toward this end, the Satan was given permission to take everything away from Job except for his life. Job lost his wealth, his children and his health, all that was dear to him. However, the entire Book of Job is related as a discussion between Job and his friends who came to comfort him. In the great Yeshiva of Slobodka the question was raised as to why, if the Satan could take everything from Job except for his life, did he not also take away his friends?

Rav Yitzchak Isaac Sher, ztz"l answered that the inescapable conclusion is that to take away one's friends must be tantamount to taking away one's life.

In fact, our sages relate that Job's friends came to comfort him even though they lived afar and he had not sent for them. Since they were his true friends, they sensed that something was amiss in the life of their friend, and they came of their own instinct. Their sensitivity provides another insight into the nature of friendship, as our sages state, "O chaverim k'chaverim shel Iyov, o mesusa-Give me friends like the friends of Job, or give me death."

Not only does friendship mean life, it also means holiness, or kedusha. The halacha states that one may not recite the kedusha with less then a minyon present. Rav Kook, ztz"l, explains that the meaning of kedusha is the act of placing the will of Hashem over and above all of one's personal desires. Therefore, if one desires only his personal perfection, even in matters of the spirit, he will not reach the level of kedusha because his desire flows only from a love of self. If, however, he makes the perfection of the Jewish people and their merit and benefit his primary desire, then he will achieve the virtue of kedusha. "It is impossible for an individual when he is only for himself to rise to the level of kedusha. Kedusha is only achieved through working for the merit and benefit of the public."

If, as Jews, we choose to live only for ourselves, then the subsequent lack of kedusha leaves an opening for impurity to enter and taint our life. The Torah states, "Remember what Amalek did to you (lecha, singular) on the road when you (l'chem, plural) were leaving Egypt. When leaving Egypt on the way to Mt. Sinai, the Jewish people were unified, like one man with one heart. Amalek is powerless against the kedusha that exists when the Jews are unified at such a level. When this love and unity disintegrates and we become a loose collection of individuals, lecha and not lechem, then Amalek attacks.

It is both our strength and weakness as a nation that we are a "stiff-necked people." We are a polarized people due to our personal, strongly held opinions. When we live together in small or large numbers we then tend to become polarized families, communities or countries. When things are quiet from the outside, we then afford ourselves the luxury of dissention and hatred toward those who are not like us. It is a luxury that we can ill afford.

Ten years ago our family moved to Santa Fe, N.M. from Jerusalem. Living in a Yeshiva community in Israel for a decade leads one to hold certain attitudes and opinions towards those Jews of a different "stripe." In Santa Fe, a community of perhaps a thousand Jews, a sighting of even a striped kippa was a cause for rejoicing. Even a kippa-less Jew was a recognized brother. When there is no one else around, every Jew becomes precious and important. We are awakened to do acts of loving-kindness for him or her, we feel holy, we are saved from Amalek, and we become truly alive.

The message of Purim is the message of "family by family," of each man sending presents to his friend, of giving to anyone who stretches forth his hand, all of which lead to the King being honored amongst the multitude of his people. Adults as well as children need to realize that "if there was no one else to play with, you would play with him"--even if he is different than you.

In many ways family and friends really are all that we have. The members of our little community in Santa Fe, for example, told me that under normal circumstances they never would have been friends. But since there were no other observant Jews around, they had no choice. Perhaps it would benefit us all to think for a moment of what it would be like, if G-d forbid, the evildoers who sought to destroy us throughout the generations had their way. Then we might realize that we, too, really have no choice.

This Purim, as we drink L'chaim, let's think of what chaim--life, really means. And let's make sure that as we sit at our meal, "family by family," that each person there, "young and old, women and children," each of whom would have been on Haman's hit list, take a moment or two to realize how fortunate we are to have each other.

Parsha-Parenting, Copyright (c) 1999 by Rabbi Shlomo Goldberg andProject Genesis, Inc. Rabbi Goldberg is the menahel (spiritual advisor) ofYeshivas Ohr Eliyahu, and a highly acclaimed and popular speaker inLos Angeles.