Hamentasch Miracles
Q.
What do triangles, hidden fillings, miracles, opiates, and costumes have in common?
A.
Sounds like a horror movie actually. Is that supposed to be a joke?
Q.
Ok, for real then. What’s the deal with hamantaschen? You once wrote that holidays are not meant to be symbolic or ritualistic, but experiential. Eating a cookie shaped like someone’s hat seems a bit… silly. Ritualistic at best. Why is it so significant?
A.
Now we’re talking! And glad to see you’ve been listening. Excellent question. Can the shape of a cookie be meaningful? Why does it matter?
First, let’s define the hamantasch: it’s a triangular pastry with a sweet filling, which was originally made from poppy seeds. The name hamentaschen refers to “Haman,” the villain of the Purim story, who wore a three-point hat, and “taschen,” which means pockets in yiddish. However, the “haman” part can also be referring to the poppy seeds (“mohn”) in the pocket. Incidentally, (or maybe not so incidentally) hamentaschen are also referred to as ‘oznei Haman’ (“Haman’s ears”), which has no literal basis, but may be connected to the fact that some commentators describe the manna as “oznaim” which refers to a sweet pastry. (Now, if you’re following as I’m following, and the manna is related to hamentaschen which are related to poppy seeds… That would explain a whoooooole lot.)
But if we want to understand the real meaning behind eating hamentaschen, we have to go to the sources. The Code of Jewish Law teaches that we eat them in memory of Daniel, who survived on seeds in the house of the king of Babylon rather than partaking of the royal non-kosher food available to him, and merited salvation through incredible miracles. The Talmud actually identifies Hasach, one of the significant players in the Purim story, as none other than Daniel. He supported Esther in her role as queen, who, by the way, also subsisted on nuts and seeds while she lived in the palace of Achashverosh. So the hamentaschen have pockets of hidden filling referencing Esther, and the seeds which refer to Daniel.
An incredible point about seeds: they embody the process and experience of salvation. A seed is planted by getting buried in the dark ground. When it’s given the optimum conditions (water and oxygen), just when you’re expecting it to release a bright green shoot, it basically just blows up. Its outer layer shatters. Which looks like something really bad is happening; but in reality, the breaking of that outer layer is what allows the inner, potent embryo to emerge and develop, and grow into the beautiful plant it was meant to be. It’s called -- get this -- “the breaking of dormancy.”
It’s exactly what happens to us, too. We get put in a dark place, and we feel like we’re falling apart, we feel broken. But breaking can be a good thing too, because it disrupts our dormancy and can unleash our growth. Something’s hidden inside of all of us, something awesome, but we need to be essentially buried and blown up in order for it to emerge.
Esther’s name refers to hiddenness, and Daniel’s refers to judgment, which presents another commonality. Although God’s “ideal” way of functioning is to shine His Presence upon our lives in an open way, there are times that call for drawing boundaries around that revelation. Dimming it somewhat. On a regular basis, it allows enough ambiguity about Truth for humans to have free will and actually choose it. But when God conceals Himself, what remains is not desolation and darkness -- what’s left is simply nature. Nature, which we often write off as mechanical and random. We look at events and we see coincidences in the place of Divine intervention. But it’s really just a screen, where God projects His will so it looks like it’s independent when it really is a direct, constant manifestation of Him. Sure, you could chalk anything up to fate. But why do that when you can embrace every event as a custom-made Divine gift? See the miracle of how a loving Creator interacts directly with me, and be able to respond in kind.
Esther and Daniel were two giants in our history who drew sharp boundaries between themselves and their Torah-less environments. In return, they merited to have God intervene in their lives in wondrous, responsive ways. You might notice the only difference is that Daniel experienced open miracles, while Esther received “hidden” ones, “natural” ones. But again -- is Divine Intervention ever anything less than miraculous? Or is it just a matter of how much you let the screen get in the way?
Purim is the holiday of blurring boundaries. We drink until we can’t tell the difference between Haman and Mordechai (although I think I’m going to try poppy this year instead, because tradition). Because “good” and “bad” are just as intricately intertwined as “nature” and “miracle.” Bad is really there for good, breaking down is really part of building up, nature is really a miracle in disguise. Struggles stretch us to be bigger, nature forces us to look deeper to see the miracles all around us, and within us.
So go ahead, munch on those hamentaschen and make a hearty l’chaim! Take the time to look for the hidden miracles and the goodness in your life, within yourself and those around you. Loosen the hold that “nature” has on you and embrace the potential of the miraculous and mighty seed that you are.