Cursed
Is Haman, Part Of Our Avoda
By
Rabbi Levi Yitzchok Ginsberg
The
goal is for “Mordechai” and “Haman” to work together,
ultimately demonstrating that “there is none but Him”…
The
following account was related to me by Rabbi Yaakov Gansberg:
The story
opens in Russia, at a time when the secret police were
relentlessly pursuing the “Schneersons” and everyone else
associated with them. Many Lubavitchers were arrested, while
others were sent into exile. Still others disappeared without a
trace, never to be heard from again. The ones who remained lived
in constant fear, never knowing when their turn might come.
Despite the
atmosphere of terror and intimidation, and the fact that
participants in any innocent gathering could be immediately
arrested for unlawful assembly, Chassidim never stopped acting as
Chassidim. Minyanim continued to meet, shiurim were
given, and of course, farbrengens continued to be held on
special occasions.
I’d like
to quote from a book written by the late Rabbi Shmaryahu Noach
Sassonkin, entitled My Memoirs, that depicts the nature of farbrengens
in the old days in Russia.
“There
were many people who warned us Chassidim against having too much mesiras
nefesh, insisting that it placed our lives in unnecessary
danger. It’s one thing to have mesiras nefesh for davening
or learning Torah, or for Shabbos or the chinuch of our
children, they claimed. In those cases mesiras nefesh is
worthwhile, and brings great spiritual benefit. But why endanger
yourselves just to farbreng together? Wouldn’t it be
prudent to forgo such gatherings until the danger has passed?”
[Note: It
should be pointed out that in those days, farbrenging
involved a lot less talking and a lot more singing than nowadays.
Furthermore, before the g’zeira against drinking too much
alcohol was issued, it was not unusual for participants at farbrengens
to pour out their hearts without constraint.]
Rabbi
Sassonkin concludes:
“The facts
reveal that almost all of those who attended farbrengens
were able to withstand the trials and tribulations of the Soviet
era and remained frum, whereas most of those who didn’t
attend eventually succumbed to the pressure and caved in…”
Reb
Yaakov Gansberg’s story illustrates that same mesiras nefesh:
As Purim
approached, it never occurred to us not to have a farbrengen.
We were a sizeable group, including Reb Mendel Futerfas, who lived
in a suburb right outside Moscow. It was decided that we would
meet in a certain house; if my memory serves me right, it was the
house in which the mashpia Rabbi Nissan Nemenow was then
staying.
In those
days, in the middle of the Second World War, disorder ruled in
Russia. Bands of thieves and robbers roamed about freely,
exploiting the lawless situation. There was no one to complain to,
no system of justice at all. Things got so bad that it was often
dangerous just to leave the house. The gypsies were the worst of
all. Unusually tall and physically robust, they excelled in their
chosen line of work. And as always, Jews were the first victims.
Nonetheless,
no power in the world could prevent us from farbrenging on
Purim. Not the secret police, and surely not the threat of violent
gypsies.
We had
almost reached our destination when we were suddenly attacked. The
gypsies were armed with knives and hatchets, and a variety of
other frightening-looking weapons. Our group began to scatter,
screaming at the top of our lungs for help.
But not
everyone succeeded in running away. I was seized by a giant gypsy,
who proceeded to squeeze the life out of me and almost broke my
ribs. At that moment, which lasted an eternity, I was sure it was
all over. The world that is entirely good seemed to beckon…
Everyone was
yelling and screaming, but this was not so unusual a sight as to
draw attention. Drunken peasants were always acting rowdy on the
streets. Since it was Purim, our friends already inside the house
might not even realize the seriousness of the situation.
When Reb
Mendel saw what was happening to me, he didn’t hesitate. Reb
Mendel was then still relatively young, and a lot stronger than I
was. Without further ado, he jumped on the giant and caught him by
surprise.
The gypsy,
surprised and angered by the attack, momentarily lessened his grip
on me and turned his attention to Reb Mendel. I quickly ran away,
but now Reb Mendel was caught. The enraged robber took out his
knife.
Mustering
all his strength, Reb Mendel bit down on the man’s finger. He
bit and bit until…the finger came off.
The gypsy
was in so much pain that he forgot about Reb Mendel, who took the
opportunity to dive into a huge mound of snow. Aroused by their
fellow bandit’s cries, all the other gypsies came running over
with murder in their hearts. Again and again they thrust their
knives into the snow, determined to find the Jew. Reb Mendel bore
a scar on his face for the rest of his life after this incident.
Thank G-d, a crowd gathered, and the band of gypsies gave up their
search and dispersed.
Reb Mendel
Futerfas saved my life. It was a demonstration of pure and
unadulterated mesiras nefesh – mesiras nefesh
without any considerations whatsoever.
*
* *
The festival
of Purim has just passed, the time when it is a mitzva to
drink ad d’lo yada. More than any other holiday, Purim
symbolizes absolute mesiras nefesh, the need to rise
above all calculation and consideration.
Thus it is
both timely and appropriate that we review what the Rebbe said
about Purim in 5752, and heed his directives. For, as is known, der
Rebbe hot altz bavorent – the Rebbe forewarned everything.
His words contain “the answers to all the questions being
asked,” as he stated in 5710.
Mordechai,
the Rebbe explained, is the epitome of the concept of “he would
not bow down, nor would he kneel” to worldly matters. A Jew pays
no attention to what the world dictates. To the Jew, anything
other than G-dliness is avoda zara, extraneous and
irrelevant to his mission in the world.
The Jew has
only one avoda. (“The only avoda that remains is
to greet Moshiach Tzidkeinu in actuality.”) Anything that does
not pertain to that avoda, even if it was relevant at a
different time and is actually holy, is “an avoda that is
extraneous to him.” At present, we have only one mission to
fulfill. Any diversion from that path, no matter how minor or
seemingly justified, misses the point.
Now let us
consider Haman. We’re not talking about a Haman who looks like a
murderer and walks around with a knife dripping blood; we’re
talking about a Haman who wears a silk kapote and “sticks
out his hooves as if to say, ‘See how kosher I am.’”
“You have
to take the world into consideration,” this Haman says. “You
can’t bang your head against the wall and tell the world what
the Rebbe said, exactly as he said it. You have to compromise,
soften it a little. The world still isn’t a proper vessel; no
one is going to accept your message.” Haman can even bring you
proof from the Torah that he is right!
The
difference between Mordechai and Haman lies in their basic outlook
on the world. Each one functions according to a different
principle.
To Mordechai,
the only important thing is to fulfill the will of G-d. He is
uninterested in anything else; nothing else matters — “He
would not bow down, nor would he kneel.”
To Haman,
the decisive factor is the world. The world determines what he
says and how he acts.
However, the
Torah teaches that both of them are right! In the Megilla
we read “that they should do according to every man’s will”
– the will of Mordechai, “ish Yehudi – there was a
Jewish man,” together with the will of “ish tzar ve’oyeiv
– the man who is the adversary and enemy”!
For despite
the fact that Haman’s fundamental premise is wrong (“rachmana
litzlan” the Rebbe said!), the way for us to attain our
ultimate objective is by injecting Mordechai’s will into the
will of Haman.
In practical
terms, this means knowing that although the only consideration is
doing what G-d wants, when we act b’derech ha’teva
(through natural means), the world absorbs the G-dliness in a more
internal manner, and actually helps Mordechai fulfill his mission!
The
resulting blend should be so complete and seamless “that one
doesn’t know the difference between ‘cursed is Haman’ and
‘blessed is Mordechai.’” For “cursed is Haman” is also
part of G-d’s desire that Mordechai create “a dwelling place
for G-d in the lower realms” – precisely within the natural
order.
*
* *
Whenever
Haman tries to assert himself and demands that we take the world
into consideration, he must be immediately put in his place. Haman
cannot be the boss; we cannot “bow down or kneel to him.”
Haman must
be “hanged on the tall gallows 50 cubits high” – symbolic of
the Shaar HaNun – the Fiftieth Gate. Haman must be made
to understand that the basic existence of the Jew transcends the
natural order.
We are
victorious over klipa, the forces of evil, when Haman is
subservient and willingly subjects himself to holiness. The
ultimate objective is to use the world as a tool with which to
further Mordechai’s will and imbue the lower realms with
sanctity.
Haman’s
function is to transmit the message of “blessed is Mordechai”
to the world at large, to those who can understand only his
language of worldly matters. Even klipa can be used for a
higher purpose; indeed, this is the entire purpose of creation.
When there
is no distinction between “cursed is Haman” and “blessed is
Mordechai,” the underlying oneness of existence is revealed.
“Everything is G-dliness, and G-dliness is everything.” The
whole works in tandem, ultimately bearing witness to the fact that
“there is nothing else but Him.”
There is
only one avoda left – to actually greet Moshiach
Tzidkeinu. We will not be deterred.
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