blogs/rabbi-huberman

God, Laughter and Bird Droppings 

The other day, I met with a local member of the local Catholic clergy -- this is something we do from time to time, to discuss religious and social issues common to both Judaism and Christianity. 

This time we talked about Purim, the holiday that Jews around the world will begin celebrating this Saturday evening.

Father Daniel, a scriptural scholar, knew it well. "The story of King Asueros and how the Jewish people were delivered from death during times of Persian rule," he said.

"Well," I said, "yes and no."

"Is that incorrect?" Father Daniel asked.

"Yes," I replied. "But say it again without being so serious. Purim is one of the happiest days of the year. It falls under that great Jewish category: 'they tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat.'"

He was solemn for a moment. "We Christians can certainly read the scripture a little too seriously sometimes."

We both had a good laugh, and -- like all the wisest of us --he wanted to know more.

Groucho Marx, Jerry Lewis, Lenny Bruce, Joan Rivers, Mel Brooks, Jon Stewart, Jack Benny, Sarah Silverman, Fanny Brice, Jerry Seinfeld, Gilda Radner, Billy Crystal, Peter Sellers, Rodney Dangerfield, Alan King, Don Rickles, The Three Stooges-and hundreds more besides. 

Jewish comedians are some of the funniest the world has ever seen, and there are a lot of them

And no wonder.

I find it truly marvelous, and not a little surprising, that in an often fractious religious world usually dominated by prayer, observance, and getting the theology right, there is at least one time of year when Jews are commanded to be silly. 

We are told dress in costume, make fun of our teachers and leaders, consume food and drink. It's a much-needed moment when we're invited to turn a too-serious world upside down. 

Of course, while we're meant to look without restraint to our own happiness, we're also required to spread that happiness as far as it can go, and this applies particularly to those in need.  

All the same, regardless of whether you believe the events of Purim really happened, or that they're based on a piece of "revenge literature" designed to bolster the Jewish people during times of sadness and servitude, I love the idea that, in God's kingdom, during a few designated times of the year, Jews are encouraged to let their hair down.

We as a people have endured unimaginable events over the last few thousand years, but the Jewish people are believers in laughter. 

We needle and poke fun during those times when humanity gets a little too self-obsessed and takes itself too seriously-and, of course, that includes us! 

But we're wonderfully equipped, by our history and by one another, to poke holes in egos that need deflating. There is always room for laughter. We have, after all, always managed to laugh through our tears.

Do we really have any choice?

I believe that God has a sense of humor. As Jewish tradition teaches, each of us carries within us a spark of God: Tzelem Elohim. If we laugh, it's because God laughs as well, and has passed the remarkable power of laughter to us.

My own laughing moment with God occurred about fifteen years ago.

I was considering whether or not I should change careers and enroll in rabbinical school. To help with my decision, I spent a summer in Jerusalem studying at the Conservative seminary. I was there to answer one question: Would I be able to make it through rabbinical school?

After an intense month, I convinced myself that I could do it. That was it: mission accomplished. Time to go home.

But my departure day was Shabbat, and my flight was not scheduled to leave until eleven that night. I had eight hours to kill, and Jerusalem was shut down.

So I began walking through the alleyways and markets of Old Jerusalem. Eventually my steps led me to the Western Wall: the Kotel. It was around four in the afternoon when I arrived-too late for communal services and too early for evening prayer.

I picked up one of the prayer books, a Siddur from a nearby table, and, leaning my forehead against the ancient stones King Herod's workers had lain two thousand years earlier, began to pray in silence.

"Almighty God," I began, "sovereign of the universe, who guides all things -- I am so concerned about becoming a rabbi. I'll be leaving a secure job, moving with my wife and family away from the city and country we love. I just don't know what's waiting for us.

"I need to know," I pleaded in silence, "that I'm doing the right thing."

For perhaps twenty seconds, I closed my eyes and waited for -- something. An admonition, an inspiration from God.

Nothing came to my heart.

Instead, I heard a barely audible pop from the top of the Wall. I looked up just in time to see a very small wet object falling from the back end of a large grey bird. 

It splat right into the middle of my prayer book, and I knew I'd received my answer.

I've told this story before, and some have asked me if I'd considered that God was sending a warning against venturing into a new, difficult, often messy line of work.

But I know what happened that afternoon: I felt God's laughter. The answer I got was as plain as if it had been spoken: "Why are you asking me," God asked, "when you know the answer? You can do it, so go do it."

That story still makes me smile. So often, in our interactions with God, prayer and devotion can become so serious --perhaps too serious. 

The Jewish journey, after all, has less to do with eternity, and what happens to us after death, than it does with our living destinies: connecting, experiencing life fully, through all its textures, emotions and phases.

Laughter is part of life.

In the Torah portion we'll read next week, we are told: "God spoke to Moses face to face, as a person speaks to their friend." (Exodus 33:11).  Good friends know how to laugh and cry together.

Life cannot always be about toil, hardship and piety: from time to time, it can -- and must -- also be about joy and laughter.

This Purim in particular, when our world is so serious, so divided, so self-righteous, we need a holiday like Purim to remind us how important it is to simply be silly.

As the Psalms tell us, "This is the day which God has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."

Whether or not you attend Purim services tomorrow night --whether you dress up, shake a noisemaker, or blow a Bronx cheer at the name of Haman --be a "good Jew": remember to do something pleasurable tomorrow night for its own sake.

Order a comedy on pay-per-view. Go watch some standup. Do something silly.

Welcome to the best part of Judaism! We know well how to praise, labor and love -- but to everything there is a season.

This weekend, let's set aside a time to be happy. Our tradition is full of evidence of how important it is to laugh.

God knows we need it.

Shabbat Shalom, Chag Purim Sameach (A Happy Purim).

Rabbi Irwin Huberman