From Purim to Pesach: To Drink or Not to Drink?

Rabbi Gary S Creditor
March 16th, 2007

I chose to address the subject of drinking, binge drinking, DUI by any acronym, on a Shabbat between Purim and Pesach because there is an element of drinking in both holidays. I also specifically chose to speak on a Shabbat when we would have teenagers and their parents here in synagogue. These thoughts from my heart are not meant for cold impersonality of cyberspace. I speak to you and all your friends, friends of parents and friends of children. I speak now when our teens have their initial opportunity to drink, not my Kiddush grape juice, not Manischewitz wine, but beer and hard liquor of any and every variety. I speak these words with all my heart. In the aftermath of the fatal accidents by teenage drivers who had been drinking, I said to my tenth grade confirmation class that among the many things that crosses this Rabbi's eyes is the fear that someday my phone will ring and it will be this tale of immense tragedy that I will hear. I cry for the families. I cry for the children. I cry for my colleagues who have to console and address a calumny for which there are no words. My silence would be a dereliction of my duty as your Rabbi when our tradition, our faith, our laws have clear instruction. Your silence to yourselves, your silence to your children will be a clear dereliction of yours.

I.

The connection of drinking, by which I mean getting drunk – by any name, is connected to Purim as we read in the Talmudic Tractate of Megillah:

Rava said: On Purim it is a man's duty to mellow himself with wine until he cannot tell the difference between "Cursed be Haman" and "Blessed be Mordechai." [Megillah 7a]

I am not sure that Rava meant for us to "get plastered." It wouldn't take too much for me to slur the words "Arur Haman" and "Baruch Mordechai" said quickly three times. Instead I believe that Rava intended for us to enjoy, at least for the moment of Purim, the feeling of being saved from annihilation. Whether it was the Persia/Iran of the Megillah, the ruthless times of the Romans, the unpredictable Babylonians of the Talmudic era, Jews have often lived on the edge of extinction. This did not begin in the 20th century with the Holocaust. The Megillah makes it very clear how close Haman came to fulfilling his scheme. Twenty-five hundred years later Hitler nearly did it to the entirety of European Jewry. There comes a time to sit back and relax our defense mechanism, let down our guard, and have a drink. That is a far cry from getting drunk. When you can't discern the real moment when you were saved – when you jammed on the breaks and stopped in the nick of time – and the adrenalin stops pumping – that's the difference between "Arur Haman" and "Baruch Mordechai."

Unfortunately Rava's dictum was taken too literally and some people drink to excess on Purim. I have seen the behavior of otherwise pious people change into the preposterous, pompous and disgusting. I don't read into Rava's words the license to get smashed. I deduce his astute insight into a momentary relaxation of our self defense, enjoyment of the sense of salvation, and keen erudition that it is a thin line for the Jewish people to live or die. Surviving the threat deserves an "L'chayyim," in moderation.

 II.

 Passover has its own connection to drinking for no where else in our entire tradition are we commanded to drink in such quantity – four cups of a minimum amount. Since I don't otherwise have more than a Kiddush cup's worth, Seder night is always a slight challenge. But despite the obligation to drink these four cups, not only is there no reference to getting drunk from it, rather there is the clear obligation to complete the Seder ritual up to the end. We have to be clear headed to recite the entire Haggadah, especially the part after Birkat HaMazon, the Grace After Meals, because there we praise God in multiple forms, a most elevated and sacred opportunity. We sing songs of salvation, past and present. We remember how threatening Pesach time was by the blood libels launched against us, and recite "Shefoch Hamatcha…" and welcome Eliyahu HaNavi, Elijah the Prophet to come and announce the coming of the Messiah and end of suffering. The reverse is true: Not only are we not allowed to get drunk from the four cups, we must remain fully conscious, for the Haggadah text is going to deal with some sobering subjects.

Why do we drink four cups? The first is to sanctify the Holy Day, just as we introduced Shabbat tonight. The second is to celebrate the story of our salvation from Egyptian bondage and recognize that it is a "never ending story." The third isnot a Pesach ritual but was, and for some still is, the way to recite Birkat HaMazon, namely sanctifying God's providence by providing us with food. The fourth completes the section of praise to God. All four cups of wine for Pesach have a purpose, define the evening, and elevate a section of the story of our salvation. If God did not save us from Egypt, we would have been buried under the pyramids and not here tonight.

The drinking of wine on Pesach is a celebratory while sobering experience.

While both Purim and Pesach include an element of drinking, neither give license to inebriation, neither eggs us on to get plastered, smashed, or drunk by any other name. Judaism demands and commands us to be in control of our senses, keep our wits about us, and know the difference between right and wrong, between life and death.

III.

But there is more.

In the simplest terms: Judaism demands – God commands us to take care of our bodies. They are gifts to us from God. We are to preserve them as best we can, because when we die we return this gift back to God. Our bodies are holy; sacred stuff. We do not desecrate them by carving on them, such as permanent tattoos, sticking them with needles excepting by doctors for our health, punching too many holes in them – tastes change on how many earrings, and by not drinking to destroy our brains and our livers. No one really paid attention to Mickey Mantle when he was hitting all those home runs, how often he could hardly stand up straight. The same was about Babe Ruth. What a shame! In the most blatant words I can muster: Being Jewish forbids us from harming ourselves, and for this subject, forbids us from getting drunk. Ever. Regardless of age. Regardless of place. Regardless of reason. Don't say to me, "Well, Rabbi, you know…." No I don't. It is unambiguous. It is beyond a shadow of a doubt.

• Learn to deal with stress – teenager and adult - by being level headed.
• Learn to use all your faculties.
• Learn to reach out for help, to teachers, to your friends, to your parents, to counselors, if necessary, to turn for serious medical support.
• Learn to deal with life. Not evade. Not to destroy it.
• Learn to love to life. From beginning to end.

IV. 

Lastly, for all B'nai Mitzvah, from the oldest in this Sanctuary to the newest, our Bat Mitzvah, and to the potential ones, the youngest here tonight:

Bar/Bat Mitzvah is the moment in time when Judaism says to us:

Grow up.

We are now expected; we are commanded, from this moment on and for the rest of our lives:

• To bless God in public and private;
• To observe the rituals of our faith;
• To know the difference between good and bad;
• To know the difference between right and wrong;
• To take the consequences of our actions;
• To live under the law – Jewish and civil.

Bar/Bat Mitzvah is not the name of a party.

Bar/Bat Mitzvah is not just the Shabbat.

It is a sacred status as a Jew standing before God for the all the days of our lives.

V.

I will roll an entire sermon into four sentences.

We the parents, the adults are role models for our children, regardless of their age and regardless of ours.

The paragraph of the Shema contains the words we recited "V'shenantam l'vanecha" teach them to your children.

The word "Shenantam" comes from the word "Shayn" which means tooth, namely, teach your children, even if you have to break your teeth doing it.

We get no pass, no excused absence, no missing in action when it comes to our obligation to teach our children the right path.

Conclusion

I have clearly come across strongly. I meant to. But not self righteously.

I celebrate watching all our children grow up.

I am officiating at B'nai Mitzvah of children I have named and at the weddings of the children for whom I officiated at their B'nai Mitzvah and Confirmation.

I have only one prayer, one wish, one desire:

L'Chayyim – To Life.

Shabbat Shalom