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Anti-Semitism and the Jewish Response, Page 4
Clever pedagogy
Modern Jews are often much concerned with the problem of how to steel
their children against the effects of some cruel anti-Semitic remark or
incident. In other times and places, the wider prevalence of
anti-Semitism may have been ground for much greater preoccupation with
this matter on the part of Jewish parents. But even in our time and
place, we are occasionally made aware that unless our children are
mentally and emotionally strengthened against the after-effects of
exposure to antiSemitism then resultant feelings of insecurity,
inferiority, and fear can greatly damage their proper Jewish and human
development. What rare pedagogical cleverness there is, therefore, in
giving our children a weapon of such devastating ridicule as the
repeated sounding of the gragger (noisemaker) upon mention of
Haman's name.
And as the jeering of the gragger, gives voice, with triumphant
derision to our deep-seated conviction that the end of our enemies can
never be different than Haman's, do we not find ourselves in possession
of a subtle pedagogic device of rare effectiveness for imparting to our
children an abiding faith in the eternity of Israel; a faith whose
strength will make them immune to the psychological hurt of
anti-Semitism? (Let it be noted, however, that the gragger
element of Purim when exaggerated -- as we often allow it to be -- will
lose its effectiveness. As in all things, a sense of proper balance is
vital.)
Jewish brotherhood
In our contemporary frame of Jewish reference, the emphasis on
the importance of brotherhood activities is often "restricted" to the
inter-religious or inter-denominational brotherhood. We somehow forget
that the cultivation of human love in a universal sense needs for its
native soil a sense of love for one's own. Where love of one's own is
absent, the seeds of universal love can find no place in which to take
root and grow. The area, in which the soul of a person is formed and
molded, is first and foremost the limited orbit of childhood relations;
a person must learn the meaning of love within his family before he can
learn to love his community. Chronologically, too, love of people is
preceded by love of community. One can never learn to love the whole
wide world without first having learned to love his own people. How
terribly twisted is the logic that inverts the natural order of these
various radii by cultivating the capacity of the individual Jewish human
soul to love others before itself. Often the impression is inescapable
that some of our brotherhood programs are a "cover-up" for the lack of
these same qualities among our
own.
How much more is this true in times like ours, when the non-Jewish world
is not only unaffected in the least by our "protestations of
brotherhood," but has evinced for us only hate or, at best, cold
disregard for our suffering? And it is as if the beautiful Purim custom
of mishlo'ach manos -- gifts to friends -- were to say to us:
"When the hatred of Hamanism surrounds you, doubly reinforce among
yourselves, the love and concern of one Jew for another."
Concern for the poor and needy
On Purim, with even greater emphasis than on other Jewish holidays, we
are enjoined to make certain that no Jew or Jewess be deprived of the
joy of the festival because of material poverty. And this we are bidden
to do personally, not organizationally. Our own Purim feast, would be
incomplete were we not to enable other Jews as well to have a Purim
feast. And this direct, personal mode in Jewish charity is the one most
distinguishing and necessary feature of Jewish giving for the
alleviation of need. Where Jewish charity ceases to be personal, it
ceases after a while to be Jewish.
Restrained gaiety
The usual accompaniments of a carnival -- such as masquerading, drinking
intoxicating beverages -- are foreign to the Jewish mood of life on all
other days of the year. Purim, however, is an exception. Normally, it
would be considered a strange thing for the Rabbis to approve or
condone, much less foster forms of enjoyment and relaxation that seek to
give pleasure through a strong enough stimulation of the senses and the
imagination to temporarily "block" out the sense of reality and of
rational and moral experience that has its roots in reason and
conscience. Of Purim, by contrast, the Rabbis say: "A person is enjoined
to drink on Purim till he no longer knows the difference between the
words 'cursed be Haman' and 'blessed be Mordechai'." Masquerading has
also been proverbially popular on Purim. Frivolous impersonations of
even the most respected leaders and members of the community, rabbinic
as well as lay, has always been encouraged on Purim.
Even at this point, however, there is a distinctively Jewish note to be
discerned. For one thing, even devout and pious Jews, to whom the
fulfillment of a mitzvah is a felt necessity whatever the cost
and whatever the inconvenience, somehow never manage to fulfill "the
mitzvah" of inebriation on Purim quite completely. They become a
little high perhaps, but hardly ever manage to lose sufficient clarity
of consciousness and conscience to be properly classified as drunks. In
fact it is precisely when they have imbibed -- when the elements of
subconscious motivation often break the bonds of their normally clever
ability to conceal them -- that the true nobility of the Torah-formed
personality shines through. For in those moments, there becomes
apparent how deeply the study and life of Torah affects the substructure
of personality.
There is still another "inversion" of a deeply rooted Jewish attitude,
which reflects rich symbolism -- the recitation of grammen
(rhymes). B'nei Torah fortify themselves sufficiently, but not
excessively, with spirits to cast away their deeply ingrained reverence
for each work and phrase of the Torah and the writings of the Rabbis,
and utilize Torah and Rabbinic texts torn out of context, for rhymed
perorations that frivolously satirize the failings both of the community
and of its outstanding personalities. Aside from serving as a valve for
the release of popular grievances, and imposing upon the community's
leadership the awareness that their behavior is periodically subject to
critical review, the recitation of grammen is perhaps an indirect
expression of an abiding Jewish conviction: the understanding that the
hand of Providence allows anti-Semitism to do us harm only after we
become Jewishly weakened by our own failings and shortcomings.
And it is as if we were saying through the mask of merriment: "We have
not forgotten that our own striving for Jewish self-improvement is the
strongest and truest safeguard against the menace of anti-Semitism --
for, has not King Solomon taught us that 'the heart of a king is in the
hand of Hashem'! And, therefore, can any enemy prevail against us unless
our own shortcomings hae made us vulnerable by taking from us the shield
of Divine 
