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| It’s time to abandon the theology of revenge - Reb Lynn Women in black stood at the fringes of a square in the heart of Jerusalem. Thirty women holding the now familiar sign: “End the Occupation.” I speak to them and receive their passionate distress about the election, the horrible shadow of “transfer” now being spoken in public, and hear their worry over the mounting brutality of occupation. Anna Columbo is still there, perched on top of a stone fence, eating her lunch, talking to friends. She is an 89-year-old Italian Sephardic Jew whose entire family was murdered during the European Holocaust. Her message remains the same: Be of the persecuted rather than the persecutors. Then she asks, “How can we who have known so much persecution have turned into persecutors?” She is resisting with her words and presence in a public square just like her ancestor Esther. We come from a long tradition of women saying no to war and violence. The story of Esther records an ancient Jewish story of resistance against state and collective violence directed toward a specific group of people and against women. Like the midwives who deceive Pharaoh with their speech in order to save the Hebrew children from death, Esther too must stand before state power and work in behalf of survival. The Book of Esther is about a young Jewish woman’s struggle to find exactly the right words that will reveal the truth about her people’s condition and redeem them from destruction. It is a search for methods of resistance that are successful in transforming catastrophe into well-being. Esther the Queen goes through four strategic stages in her effort to transform devastation into deliverance. First, she acknowledges that she is not separate from her people’s condition. Her seclusion from the street has prevented her from being fully aware of the scope of the impending disaster. This is conveyed to her in Mordecai’s admonition: “Do not think that in the royal palace you will escape the fate of all the other Jews. Once she awakens to the idea that she shares a common fate with her people, Esther engages in a strategy of preparation to confront the full power of the state in the person of the king. Esther decrees a public three-day fast for the entire community, herself and her closest female companions. By invoking the power of prayer and spiritual activity, Esther mandates a context for readiness in the confrontation of her cause before state power. When the period of fasting is complete, Esther dresses herself in the clothes of her royalty, like all warrior queens of the ancient Near East she wraps herself in the garments of her ultimate worth as a child of creation. This moment contrasts to her previous need to hide her true identity in order to survive, not knowing how she might be received outside her familiar homeland and community. Now, she must both reveal herself and advocate in behalf of her people and pray that her theology of truth will transform state policy and bring intended salvation. Finally, Esther risks her life by breaking state law and appears before the king unannounced. Her act of civil disobedience is successful. The king extends his royal scepter and she enters his chambers. Through a series of feasts and deceptive acts, Esther accomplishes her task of averting danger by clearly naming its source. Unfortunately, Megilat Esther, like many traditional tales, is set in the literary structure of revenge stories. What the evil-doer plots against others befalls him instead. Like most stories that pit one person or group against the other, the stories we enjoy telling throughout our human history often feature our foes crushed. Purim is a turning of the fates on their head. Fasting over fear of one’s enemy becomes feasting at the downfall of one’s enemy. Purim celebrates the downfall of Hamen and his wicked plans and ends with a recitation of the slaughter of the enemy. Full moon Adar was declared a day of gladness and feasting, a day of sending portions of food to one another and to the poor. Traditionally, it also allowed Jews to express their desire to overcome the oppressive situation of so many hundreds of Jewish generations by enacting their current tormentor’s downfall through the tale of Esther. While past generations clearly enjoyed venting their frustration over harsh treatment and miserable exiles, what are we to do today? Texts that urge us to seek revenge and destruction over our enemies can no longer be authoritative sources for spiritual direction. The result of embracing the language and attitude of revenge is the cause of the suffering of millions upon millions. We must choose the direction of interpretation and use of our holy texts according to the absolute measures of compassion, peace, justice and truth. This is the way of rabbinical Judaism and it must become the way of post-Holocaust Judaism. One aspect of my recent journey to Israel, Palestine, Lebanon and Jordan was the amazing speech of the Palestinian women and men I heard. During the time I spent listening to dozens of folk talk about their condition under occupation, I never heard the language of hate. What I heard was an analysis of the occupation’s effect upon their lives: the sadness over the direction of the Israeli elections, the unbearable daily suffering under the regime of curfews, checkpoints, missile attacks, house demolitions, hunger and over work. I never once heard the language of hate. From the Israeli women active in peace building efforts, I heard the language of despair. They feel abandoned and alone. What is needed is the language of hope and strength. In the story of Esther, hope can be found in her methods of resistance: awareness of our interconnection, taking protest to the streets, not being afraid to confront and dialogue with power. Where we must part company is in the theology of revenge. Where we join up again is in the theology of shared meals for peace, of giving things away so others know the taste of well-being. Purim tells us that fate is in our hands if we only have the courage to speak and work for change. Purim tells us that we must work to transform fasting into feasting, not for one group of people, but for the whole of humanity and for all our children. | |||||||||
