Some years ago there was a public celebration of Purim at Parliament House in Melbourne where an array of politicians wore funny hats and booed Haman, quite lost in all this strange Jewish buffoonery. How can anyone compare Purim with Yom Kippur?

If you ask me which day I prefer, the answer is “both”. It is fun to have a day to fantasise, when I don’t see the real me, when I can pretend, act and release restraints. I also, however, need Yom Kippur, which brings me back to reality and shows that I cannot hide from other people, from God, or from myself. This week on Purim give yourself a day off, but don’t overdo the masks and the music. And don’t forget that Yom Kippur will be there in a few months’ time.

Significant lessons are derived from this wording. From mishlo’ach (sending), we learn that the gifts should be delivered by others on your behalf; money gifts in particular are usually given anonymously. This saves embarrassment – the giver does not see the neediness of a poor recipient, and the recipient does not have to be ashamed of his of her poverty.

From the plural manot (portions), and mattanot (gifts), we learn to give at least two gifts.

From ish l’re’ehu (one to another), we learn to give to at least one other person.

From mattanot (gifts), we learn to give charity.

From la’evyonim (to the poor), we learn to give what the other needs.

An interesting comment of the Jewish law codes is, “We are not fussy about whom we give to on Purim; we give to anyone who stretches out his hand”.

The edible gifts which are given – usually two kinds of food and drink – depend on local custom. There was a practice in North Africa to give sweet cakes with coloured icing depicting figures from the Book of Esther, and the gentile population called the day “the sugar feast”. European communities gave Hamantaschen (“Haman pockets”; known in Hebrew as Oznei Haman, “Haman’s ears”).

The fact is that it doesn’t need to be a commandment at all if we go by the Hebrew title, Aseret HaDib’rot (Ten Words, Ten Principles). Nonetheless Maimonides includes this first statement in the list of commandments, though he admits that if a person believes in God no commandment is needed and if they do not believe, no commandment helps. Belief can not be imposed or legislated. You can order me to believe, but you are wasting your time unless my heart and soul have already freely chosen to believe.

We can defend Maimonides, however, if we move to the second part of the verse. “I am the Lord your God” is not saying, “Believe in My existence”, but “Believe that it was I who brought the Children of Israel out of Egypt”. The question is not whether God exists – that is axiomatic from page 1 of the Bible – but whether He relates to His creation.

The sages said that a Roman noblewoman asked, “What has your God being doing since the six days of Creation?” In other words, “Is God only in the background or does He do anything for His world?” The rabbi to whom she posed the question said that God busies Himself making marriages, i.e. He concerns Himself with relationships. We believe not just that He is, but that it is He who is in charge of the world.

A. The sages scrutinised every word of this commandment and contrasted the punishment of the children of the wicked (“to the third and fourth generation”) and the reward of the righteous (“to the thousandth generation”). Said Ibn Ezra: “God is patient until the fourth
generation and only then is punishment inflicted.” Tosafot HaRosh declares: “Until the fourth generation punishment is not imposed; God
is waiting for repentance. But if a fourth generation persists with a family tradition of wickedness, they will suffer.” Saadia states that the children, in addition to being punished for their own sins, are now punished for their ancestors’ sins because they could have improved the family record but failed to do so.

The effect of righteousness, however, has a different timetable. Here, the moral foundations laid by one’s ancestors work for the benefit of future generations “to the thousandth generation”, i.e. to the end of time. The Targum understands the phrase as “for thousands of generations”; the Mechilta says, “for innumerable generations”. Hence, even though future generations have their failings, the merits of their ancestors weigh favourably with God.

But the prophet Ezekiel finds this commandment difficult. “What do you mean,” he asks, “that you use this proverb, ‘The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge’? Use it no more! The soul that sins, it shall die… The son shall not bear the sin of the father, neither shall the father bear the sin of the son” (Ezek. 18:2-3, 20). Yet Ezekiel is not rejecting the Decalogue but emphasising personal responsibility: if I sin, I will suffer; if I suffer, let it be for my own sin. As the rabbis understand the Decalogue, the second commandment is saying the same thing. You do not suffer for the sins of your forebears unless you yourself are also sinful. You can overcome an encumbrance from the past. If family history lays questionable baggage on your back, you have the power to lift it off. If the family name needs to be cleansed, there is something you can do about it.

We know that unfriendly elements think the Jews have plans for world domination. They are not entirely wrong, but they misunderstand the nature of the Jewish commitment to be a light to the nations (Isa. 49:6), which has nothing to do with controlling the world but really means to share our ethical teachings with mankind. There is still so much to do until the world is a fertile garden, both literally and metaphorically. In the meantime there are so many nations and individuals that only want to turn on their teacher because they fear that Utopia would spell an end to their shenanigans.

A. 10 Tevet is well known as one of the four fasts that mark the destruction of the Temple. The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chayyim 580:2) refers to an extra fast on 9 Tevet which some compilations of Jewish customs regard as a disapproving reflection of Jesus’ birth being on 9 Tevet, but the dating is questionable and the fast remains a mystery.

One of the problems of keeping Chanukah in northern Europe was of course the climate. It was often foolish to venture outside in the bitter wintry weather, so indoor entertainments needed to be developed. Naturally gentiles as well as Jews needed things to do inside the house, so both groups developed games with spinning tops and other toys. The Jews gave the top a Jewish identity by turning it into the dreidel or trendle (now called a s’vivon) and placing a Hebrew letter on each side – nun, gimmel, hey and shin, standing for nes gadol hayah sham – “a great miracle happened there”. The four letters also indicated the score – nichts (“take nothing”), ganz (“all”), halb (“half”) and shtell (“put it”). Despite the halachic aversion to heavy gambling, this allowed Jewish families a sanctioned game of chance that pleasantly occupied many an evening.

In 19th century one would have found non-Jews playing a similar game called Teetotum. We wonder whether this was one of the Jewish contributions to civilisation, but it might actually have been the other way around. The name Teetotum seems to be because one side of the top bore the letter T, which stood for the Latin “totum” – “everything”. When a player spun the top, they hoped they would get the “T” and end up richer.

Naturally, the traditionalists were up in arms against what they saw as the death-knell of Judaism. Elias Bickerman says in his book, “The Maccabees”: “The wrath of the Maccabees was poured out over the Jews and not over the heathen”. Antiochus and the Syrian Greeks now saw their opportunity to bring the Jews into line. However, their eagerness to impose hellenistic ways almost certainly went further than the Jewish assimilationists had envisaged. Not even the hellenisers could view with equanimity the sight of the Temple being defiled. No wonder Victor Tcherikower says in his “Hellenistic Civilisation and the Jews”: “It was not the revolt which came as a response to the persecution, but the persecution which came as a response to the revolt”. Thanks to the Maccabees, the revolt was successful, the persecution was overcome, and the sanctuary was cleansed and rededicated.

What about tolerance and good will? We respect each other, but we aren’t clones of one another, and we dare not gloss over the differences. Nor does it help to say Xmas is now a secular holiday invented for commercial reasons. If this is all that Xmas has become, the Christians should feel insulted, and Jews should not be part of the insult.

The more serious opinion-makers on both sides argue that both festivals celebrate light. There are festivals of light in many cultures. As an aside, let me recall that when Rev Fred Nile spearheaded an organisation in Australia called Festival of Light he more or less hijacked a name which belonged in different ways to almost every people and faith.

The rhythm of time is central to everyone’s civilisation and the contrast of darkness and light is a major symbol. In Judaism the theme of light punctuates Biblical literature and is one of the chief features of the prayer book and the rabbinic tradition. It even gave rise to some of our great religious controversies, for example the conflict of the Karaites and Rabbanites over whether a light could burn in a Jewish house on the Sabbath.

Since the ner tamid symbolised the Divine presence in the Tabernacle and Temple as in the wider world, it is no wonder that the invaders of the Temple thought they would quench Judaism if they extinguished the light, and the victorious Maccabees were adamant that rekindling the ner tamid was a priority.

One cannot believe Chanukah echoed an old pagan sun festival. Like all our festivals, it is a movable feast independent of the solar months. True, some ancient Jewish sects had a solar calendar, but they are an eccentric feature of Jewish history with little influence.

Christianity had an early doctrine of Jesus as “the light of the world” and utilised the idea of the sun as an analogy, with some of the saints regarding Jesus as the new or true sun. Associating his birth with mid-winter invited the symbolism of a new flash of light. It possibly reflected the Roman celebration of the unconquered sun.

There is no law against two religions having festivals of light at the same time of the year, but co-incidence does not mean commonality. They are two different festivals and we are two different faiths. We celebrate for two different reasons. But it should be each to their own.

A. Dryden says, “Of all the tyrannies of human kind, the worst is that which persecutes the mind”. That’s your answer. It is not that the people of Judea couldn’t live under the yoke of the enemy, but that an intolerable form of spiritual and mental oppression was placed upon them. The Maccabees had to win the war for the Temple but they also had to cleanse the minds of the nation from false ideas and unacceptable ethics. They rekindled the ner tamid in the sanctuary not merely for ritual purposes but because it symbolised the pure light of belief in God, the flame of Divine truth, and the principle of Jewish moral illumination of the world.