Joyous Warriors
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S ometimes Amalek can be found lurking in the most unlikely places. Chazal (Chullin 139b) even spotted Haman in Gan Eden peeking out as it were from behind the Eitz HaDaas.
Amalek seems to make an appearance of yet another sort between the lines of a Talmudic tale at the very end of Maseches Nedarim (90b). A married woman was sequestered with another man when the husband arrived home unexpectedly. The man scampered up a ladder to a balcony high above the dining room and from that vantage point observed the husband getting ready to eat from a dish that unbeknownst to him contained snake venom. The onlooker thereupon jumped from his hiding place shouting “Stop! Don’t eat!” at the startled husband.
The Gemara cites Rava’s opinion that the wife was permitted to remain with her husband. Rava reasons that had actual infidelity occurred the interloper would surely have allowed the husband to eat and perish so as to eliminate his “competition.”
The Gemara finds this rationale so compelling that it wonders how absent Rava’s statement one might have thought otherwise. It answers that one might have expected even an actual sinner to spare the husband’s life so as to preserve the wife’s status as a married and thus forbidden woman in keeping with the teaching of that wise guide to human nature called Mishlei that “stolen waters are sweet.”
To counter this notion the Gemara concludes Rava rules that the other man would nevertheless not have acted to save the husband. And if in fact he did so he must not have committed the actual sin.
But the Gemara’s initial reasoning seems so logically sound that we’re left with an unanswered question: Why indeed don’t we assume an interloper would want the woman to remain in her forbidden state the better to partake of that which only “forbidden waters” can provide?
With a pithy few words Tosafos answers this question with a penetrating insight as elaborated by Rav Eliyahu Dessler in Michtav MeEliyahu. Surely the allure of “forbidden waters” is every bit as enticing as described by Shlomo Hamelech in Mishlei and even the fellow cowering on the balcony above may be aware on an abstract level of this basic facet of human nature.
Indeed it is precisely the woman’s forbidden status that constitutes not just part but the whole of her ostensibly irresistible appeal. The fact that she is beyond reach is the very sum and substance of what draws others to her.
Yet the would-be sinner caught up in the throes of his desires is without doubt unaware of the underlying dynamics of those feelings; after all were he to realize their true source would he expend even one moment or an ounce of energy pursuing a mirage? And due to that lack of awareness had he committed the sin he’d surely have let the husband eat and die.
WHAT EMERGES is an arresting insight into the very nature of material desire. It is at root the result of a profound misdiagnosis. Man senses a void within and looking about him sees an endless array of things that he lacks — wealth power possessions bodily pleasures of many sorts; the list is virtually endless — and presumes this lack to be the cause of his misery.
To fill that void he sets out to attain the heretofore unattainable. But alas getting hold of the object of his desire seems not to fill the gaping void within.
Ever trapped within his purely material frame of reference man reasons that his mistake was in foolishly pursuing Object X. If only he’d invest his time and effort to overtake and possess Object Y he thinks surely that would slake his seemingly unquenchable thirst — and around again he goes on that merry-go-round the American Founders so aptly referred to as the “pursuit of happiness.”
That the pursuit of material goals is self-defeating is of course a recurrent theme in Torah from Chazal’s teaching of “He who has 100 wants 200” to the Vilna Gaon’s parable of the stranded desert traveler attempting to quench his thirst with salt-laden seawater. But Rava’s teaching as illuminated by Tosafos adds a further dimension: The inability of the physical to deliver satisfaction stems from the illusory nature of the desire itself which exists only so long as the object of desire remains beyond reach; upon its realization it evaporates in the heart and mind like so much cotton candy.
The pathway leading out of this conundrum in which humanity has been enmeshed from time immemorial begins with the understanding that man does indeed long for that which is beyond him. Correctly understood this longing ensues when the soul is wrenched from its place of repose on high and sent into exile in a physical body within a larger physical world. The soul yearns to return to that primal state of closeness to its Source which brings a powerful sense of fulfillment and ultimately boundless joy.
WHAT HAS ALL THIS to do with Purim? Everything. The Targum Yonasan (Shemos 17:8) states that Amalek’s very first attack on the Jews launched at Refidim was merely an outgrowth of the age-old quarrel between Eisav and Yaakov. The undying enmity between Yisrael and Amalek over the generations is a direct consequence of the chasm separating the worldviews of their forebears Yaakov and Eisav.
At the heart of Yaakov’s perspective on life is his declaration that “I have everything” (Bereishis 33:11) meaning that one’s happiness and fulfillment can never depend on the stuff of this material world. For Yaakov only closeness to Hashem can still his unrequited longing and bring forth a joy that lasts beyond the next vacation or business deal.
Hashem for His part desires maximal closeness with His creations and so man can achieve the ultimate bond with Hashem if only he wills it. He is the master of his own happiness and in control of his own destiny.
Eisav in contrast tells Yaakov “I have much” (Bereishis 33:9) ruing the fact that while he has so much he doesn’t and won’t ever “have it all.” He believes — hopes against hope really — that if only he rummages long enough through the ephemeral and banal little joys of life he will find a way to quiet his internal demons.
Anyone who has lived a life knows this avenue to happiness is a dead end a one-way road to frustrated bitterness. But what other choice is there but to press forward when one is unwilling to look beyond the confines of material existence to interpret the malaise he feels within?
Amalek too knows his grandfather’s formula ultimately ends in failure. But unlike the rest of humanity he refuses to content himself with living a life of “quiet desperation.” The reality that life lived solely to accumulate things and pleasure experiences is one long cruel joke on man is unbearable for Amalek.
But neither can he extricate himself from this lifelong entrapment by turning to the spiritual dimension to find meaning which he a confirmed nihilist doesn’t believe exists. And so he rages at life itself at the possibility of achieving happiness through a transcendence of the material to bond with the spiritual. And finally at Yisrael the nation that stands for these things in This World.
His bitterness at life’s utter vacuity of meaning propels him into a mission to oppose the notion of enduring truth and those who represent it. To his dying breath he seeks to disabuse the Jew of the knowledge that Hashem is ever-present with him and rob him of the joy that comes with such knowledge.
The Gemara (Taanis 29a) teaches Mishe’nichnas Adar marbin b’simchah that when Adar arrives we begin to increase our joy which builds until reaching its apex on the day of Purim itself. Unlike other Yamim Tovim where the mitzvah of simchah is limited to the holy day itself here we are bidden to stock up on simchah as a way of preparing for Purim.
That’s because on Purim simchah isn’t merely what results from celebrating and savoring our salvation; it is the very issue over which we wage ideological war with Amalek. We say meaning is achievable and that we know how which in turn produces the deepest joy man can know — and all of that enrages Amalek.
The Gemara (Megillah 30a) implies that each year on Purim we engage in mechiyas Amalek obliterating our archenemy even without resort to weapons of war. Rav Tzaddok HaKohein (Machshevos Charutz 16) elaborates noting that the Torah’s charge to erase Amalek’s presence from the world opens with the word v’hayah which always denotes simchah to teach that involvement in simchah shel mitzvah is the way to do it. There is no greater downfall for Amalek than the sight of a Jew on Purim exulting in his relationship with Hashem.
A freilechen Purim to all!
Eytan Kobre may be contacted directly at Kobre@Mishpacha.com
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