During the feast of Purim there is a mitzvah to drink wine (and other alcoholic beverages) until one does not know the difference between the phrases: blessed is Mordecai and cursed is Haman. On the surface, this astonishing mitzvah seems to fly in the face of normative Judaism as practiced throughout the entire year. Firstly, we are called, both spiritually and practically, on a daily basis to distinguish between good and evil, permitted and forbidden, mundane and holy, pure and impure. Why would the Sages then encourage us to drink to the point of not knowing the difference between blessings and curses, or even between good and evil?! Secondly, although drinking alcohol is permitted, and is even enshrined in many ceremonies on Shabbat and holidays, it is never encouraged to over-drink, and certainly not to get drunk. Additionally, it seems somewhat incongruous to be drinking large amounts of wine considering that the Jews in Shushan lost their merit by behaving similarly at the feast of King Ahashverosh. Therefore, we need to delve into the deeper reasons why the Sages gave us this seemingly counter-intuitive mitzvah in order to understand their ultimate intentions.
The most basic understanding of this mitzvah is explained in Jewish law to mean simply that: one drinks to the point of not knowing whether they should be more joyous by the ascension of Mordecai and the miraculous delivery at the time of Purim, or by the satisfaction and joy at the defeat of Haman and his plans for mass genocide. In order to do this, the Sages encouraged one to drink somewhat more than usual in order to be so joyous that one cannot tell the difference between these two types of joy — success or survival.
The Rama and the Mishneh Brurah clarify that by falling asleep after drinking slightly more than usual, one can in this manner fulfil the directive to not know the difference between blessed is Mordecai and cursed is Haman. The Slonimer Rebbe goes even farther by explaining that the literal meaning of the statement in the Talmud on which this mitzvah is based actually states that one should get drunk on Purim – meaning to be intoxicated by the holiday itself, and not necessarily drunk on wine! Contemplating the great miracles that God did for us at that time is more than enough reason to enter into an exalted state of transcendent joy.
In the writings of Maimonides, he explains that doing teshuvah ultimately means finding oneself in the same situation in which one initially sinned, but this time having the moral fortitude to restrain oneself from committing the same act again. This idea helps us understand the role of celebrating Purim with a joyous feast that includes heavy drinking. Since, as mentioned earlier, our troubles began with attending the feast of Ahashverosh, we are afforded a chance to turn a feast of debauchery into an occasion of holiness and true joy. We see also that Esther used the occasion of a wine feast to set up a situation where she could reveal Haman’s wicked intent against the Jews in a way that Ahashverosh would be receptive to her plea. The key elements of the Purim story thus all occurred at these different feasts; therefore, the Sages wanted to rectify and elevate this type of celebrating to a new and lofty level. If unconscious feasting and drunkenness can bring us so low, almost to the point of annihilation, then surely these same actions performed in the context of holiness can take us even higher!
According to Kabbalah and Chassidut the key to understanding the drunkenness of Purim is in the teaching that one should drink ad d’lo yada, “until one does not know.” In the above article, we discussed how one of the themes that runs through the Purim story is its correspondence to the personalities in the Garden of Eden, and especially to the eating from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Since the snake used the enticement that by eating from the Tree of Knowledge one could become like God, knowing the difference between good and evil, Kabbalah and Chassidut understand the Purim feast as a profound opportunity to affect a deep rectification of the concept of knowing, as associated with the Tree of Knowledge. In the case of the Garden, the sinful eating was undertaken in order to “know”; in a complete reversal, the drinking on Purim is undertaken precisely to “not know”!
There is a Chassidic statement that “the highest knowing is to not know.” This somewhat paradoxical saying cries out for explanation. Unfortunately, many people think that one has to get so drunk on Purim that the only way to fulfil the mitzvah is by passing out in a drunken stupor, and only in this manner does one come to the level of not knowing. This is absolutely not the intention of the Sages, and in fact misses the whole point entirely. Rather, they wanted us to reach a very high spiritual level, to attain the ultimate knowledge — that the highest knowing is to know that you don’t know. Therefore, we will try to explore this subtle, paradoxical state of consciousness characterized by not knowing, especially regarding the difference between “blessed is Mordecai” and “cursed is Haman.”
Firstly, we need to clarify one very important point: the idea that “the highest level of knowing is not knowing” is not synonymous with the statement, “ignorance is bliss.” The “not knowing” in our statement refers to the fact that the highest level of knowing entails a high degree of humility, at least enough to realize that no matter how much we do know, there remains so much more that we don’t. Since God is in essence unknowable, and the ultimate explanations for how He acts in the world through Divine Providence remain beyond the grasp of human beings, accepting and realizing that there is only so much we can know is a very high level of knowledge. Everyone knows how it feels to be in the presence of a “know it all.” The arrogance that accompanies such an attitude is itself a barrier between such a person and God, not to mention other people. Nevertheless, Judaism also admirably encourages us to acquire wisdom, understanding and knowledge in all of its forms. Knowing that we can’t know it all should not in any way discourage us from seeking wisdom and knowledge wherever we can acquire it, and especially in regards to how we can apply such insight to our daily lives.
According to Jewish tradition, God created the world yesh m’ayin, “something from nothing.” The word ayin literally means, “nothing,” and is conceptually conceived of as an infinite “womb-like” dark essence existing before the primordial revelation of infinite light; or, even deeper, as a type of darkness which itself “shines.” This darkness is the “womb-like” state from which the infinite light and all of creation emerges. Therefore, ayin is the “nothing” that paradoxically contains, nurtures and gives birth to all somethings.
When related to knowledge, this means that above logic and normative intellect there exists a higher level of wisdom that requires a state of nullified ego in order to tap into its depths. “Not knowing” means transcending one’s normative intellect in order to connect to this womb-like experience of creative awareness. This state of consciousness can be reached through various spiritual practices such as meditation, contemplation, prayer, music, and being in nature. Various states of prophetic experience and Diving inspiration all depend on reaching this level of “nothing,” which opens one up to a different type of intuitive and mystical knowledge that transcends habitual patterns of thought and reason.
There is a quizzical statement which asserts that “if I would know God, I would be Him.” The teaching conveyed here is that since I am not God, and in essence God is unknowable, there is no way to truly know Him and certainly not to “be Him.” Intriguingly, Rabbi Shalom Ber, one of the Rebbes of the Lubavitch Chassidic movement, declared that there are moments when we can in fact “know God” and thus [in a sense] be Him. This daring statement is explained to mean that since the Jewish soul possesses a level that is “an actual part of God Above,” we do in fact have the innate capability to know God and, as it were, be God-[like] since we are in truth a “part of God.” For most people, this exalted level of knowing God lies dormant and hidden, yet there are moments of intense clarity that are born from reaching a level of self-nullification when we plug into a type of knowing that touches the Divine “nothing” of not knowing in the higher sense. This is the experience of reaching a state of ad d’lo yada on Purim.
In Kabbalah, the highest level of the three “heads” or stations of consciousness in the sefirah of keter, the highest of the sefirot, is termed faith, emunah, “faith.” Another term given for this level is “the head that does not know, and that does not know itself,” reisha d’lo yada v’lo etyada. We notice immediately that in this term are the words d’lo yada, “does not know,” the same words as in the statement of the Sages that we need to drink and Purim ad d’lo yada. Thus, understanding this level of consciousness reveals another key to unlocking the enigma of what we can hope to accomplish through drinking on Purim.
An amazing series of gematrias brings us to the heart of the matter. For starters, the defining phrases of Purim, “Blessed is Mordechai / Cursed is Haman,” both equal 502; alerting us to their intrinsic connection, despite their apparent contradiction. What’s more, the well-known concept, “simple faith,” emunah peshuta, also numerically equals exactly the same amount! It takes real faith to understand that good and evil are not just opposites but are in fact actually part of a much greater Divine oneness and Providence that transcends all opposites. In fact, the Ba’al Shem Tov taught that “evil is the throne [ vessel] for goodness.”
Let’s look at three different examples of this concept: 1) The Sages teach us that when King Achashverosh took off his ring and gave it to Haman, symbolizing his agreement to Haman’s evil plan to annihilate all the Jews of his kingdom, this act did more to illicit true teshuvah than anything else that could have happened. 2) A second example occurred when Pharaoh pursued Israel into the desert in order to exact vengeance for their leaving Egypt and not returning. The verse does not say he drew close to Israel in his pursuit, rather it literally states that he caused [them] to draw close (Exodus 14:10). It is further explained that the Israelites’ experience of Pharaoh chasing them is what ultimately caused them to draw close to God and to call out to Him for deliverance, as is stated in the continuation of the same verse. 3) The last example is wrapped in Divine mystery and enigma, for only three years after the Holocaust an independent Jewish State in Israel came into being after two thousand years of exile and oppression.
Only God knows the reasons for all things, and in an upside-down world – a world the Sages refer to as a “world of lies” – that which appears to be a punishment or a curse could in fact be a blessing in disguise. Indeed, the Jewish tradition insists that everything has a reason, and all of God’s creations have an ultimate purpose. Furthermore, Judaism insists that all of God’s actions are for the benefit of His creations. Clearly, we are not always able to fathom those reasons or the good that must derive from the grim situations we sometimes find ourselves in, but nevertheless we have faith in God’s ultimate goodness.
The existence of evil provides us with a powerful message: the world is imperfect and in need of rectification. Furthermore, the world’s imperfections are, in fact, an integral part of our redemption, in that they lead us to initiate such a rectification process. The reality of imperfection and evil, along with our attempt to rectify the world, actually entails a great paradox. For if God is perfect, how can there be imperfection at all? And if Divine Providence oversees all that happens, who are we to challenge, question or try to change what appears to be a Divinely decreed imperfection in reality?
These questions lead us to directly confront the paradox of human free will and Divine Omniscience. Indeed, the contradiction becomes even greater when contemplating the role of good and evil, for God has commanded us to rectify a world in which imperfection seems to be built into the system. It is explained, and it is crucial to understand, that “no evil emanates directly from God,” rather, for the sake of the ultimate goal, which is that humanity actively earns their inheritance of being created in the image of God, the possibility of evil is actually built into the system in order to allow for true free will.
Although we may not be able to completely resolve these apparent existential conundrums, we are nevertheless forcefully bidden by our tradition to try to bring healing, rectification, and redemption to our lives and to the world whenever and wherever possible. Furthermore, even though our free will and God’s Providence exist simultaneously, we are tasked with exercising our free will in the present as if there were no Divine Providence. Effectively, the Sages urge us to act as if everything depends on our actions alone, and to only accept the reality that “all is [truly] in the hands of Heaven,” in regards to our past. In other words: the present and the future are up to us, while the past was meant to be.
Without a doubt, Purim opens up an existential Pandora’s box when one truly contemplates the forces and issues present in this story. True faith, emunah peshuta, entails seeing that, although we must fight against evil, on a deep level of “not knowing,” both the realities of “blessed is Mordechai” and “cursed is Haman” emanate from God’s ultimate oneness. This level of awareness and realization is only possible when simple faith permeates the deepest recesses of keter consciousness, and we enter into the realm of “the head that does not know and does not know itself.” When we understand how the forces of good and evil are united in the Divine nothingness of transcendent knowledge, we experience the essence of ad d’lo yada.
It is interesting to note that in the phrase ad d’lo yada, the letters ayin and dalet that make up the word ad, “until,” are in the reverse order of the last two letters of the last word of the phrase yada, “to know.” This reminds us of a similar phenomenon in the Shema (Hear O Israel, God our God, God is One), the cardinal statement of faith in Judaism, where the letter ayin of the word Shema, hear, and the letter dalet of the word echad, one, are both enlarged.
The letters ayin and dalet together, when vowelized differently, also spell the word ayd, “witness.” The fact that these letters are written large in the Shema informs us that the mission of the Jewish people is to bear witness to the truth of One God, as the prophet states: “You are my witnesses” (Isaiah 43:10).
When the two letters ayin and dalet are reversed, they spell da, “know.” Although the Shema is often referred to as the cardinal statement of faith in Judaism, it is not a blind faith divorced from intellect or reason, but rather a faith based on our most fundamental observations and experiences of reality. This is a critical point to consider when one assesses their deepest beliefs and world-view. The merging of faith and knowledge is what has sustained and empowered the Jewish people for millennia.
Yet on Purim, both faith and knowledge are lifted up to ad d’lo yada, an even higher level where they converge in a state of consciousness beyond normative intellect or dogmatic belief. For most people to achieve this level of altered consciousness a boost is needed, thus the Sages encouraged drinking on Purim to assist us in that effort. As discussed previously, the intent is not a drunken stupor but rather a deep and profound awareness of God hidden in nature, history, and even in the ultimate oneness behind the complex brew of good and evil.
Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach would often pose the question: what kind of good is it that has an opposite of evil? Yet, most of the year this dualistic balance is maintained in what we call “reality.” On Purim, we reach a level where we realize that ultimately all is for the good, or in the words of Kabbalah – in the highest level of keter there is no left side (evil), only right (good). This level, where goodness has no opposite, is symbolized by the Holy of Holies in the Temple in Jerusalem. Only once a year did the High Priest enter into the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur. As mentioned, the Sages would make a play on words by stating that Yom HaKippurim is a day (Yom) like (k’) Purim. Meaning that, on Purim the Holy of Holies is, in principle, accessible to anyone; but really, only one who has reached the spiritual level of ad d’lo yada, where there is no opposite of good, may enter and exit in peace. Good Purim!!
