The Frazzled Housewife

I went to a shiur. For those of you who don’t know what a shiur is, it is a class that involves Jewish texts. These texts can be from the Torah, gemarah, and other rabbinical sources. I usually do not go to these classes. Mainly because I am not very bright and I can never follow what the speaker is saying.

But I went to this class because the topic caught my eye. “Misinterpreting Messages: Optimism, Hope and Dreams.” Interesting, right? Especially with the ongoing heartbreaking situation in Israel and all the antisemitism everywhere.

So I went with great optimism and the hope that I would learn something. The speaker was a woman named Shani Taragin, who is a well-known and very smart individual. A few years ago, my family was on a Passover program with her, and I tried to understand some of her talks, but I had to admit to her that I was clueless. At least it made her laugh.

With notebook and pen in hand, I was determined to follow along, and this is what I learned. Even prophets, who received messages from God, did not always interpret them correctly. Who knew? Jeremiah the prophet even told God that he didn’t think he would be able to deliver these messages because he couldn’t speak properly.

After each “vision,” God would ask Jeremiah, “What do you see?” And Jeremiah would tell God what he saw..

Okay, that is all for the technical stuff. Whenever I do go to a shiur and I talk to my Oreos about it, they usually laugh at/with me, because I am telling them things that they already knew. Jeremiah was a kohen. I didn’t know that. Did you?

In any event, I am going to tie this shiur that I went to a few weeks ago with the holiday we celebrated last week. That’s right, you guessed it, the holiday of Purim.

I try to write about my megillah man, aka Husband #1, around this time of year. His Hebrew birthday is on Purim, and that is how he became such an eloquent and speedy reader of the megillah.

Husband #1’s father died three years ago on Purim Katan, which means that it was a year with two months of Adar. This means that Husband #1’s Hebrew birthday and his father’s yarzheit fall out on the same day several times over the course of the years to come.

The happiest day of his life — the one where he is able to read the megillah to whoever needs him — new mothers, old mothers, the homebound, working folks who can’t get to a minyan. The list goes on. It is his greatest joy.

And now that day is also his greatest heartbreak. Husband #1 respected and loved his father beyond measure. So, like God asked Jeremiah, “What do you see?”

Do you see a day filled with sadness? Do you see a day filled with joy? What you see is the quintessential meaning of life. Happiness and sadness are interchangeable. The people in Israel are still celebrating Purim, momentarily setting aside their broken hearts. Never forgetting, yet continuing to live. To laugh. And, of course, also to cry. Because that is life.

Every day, if we are blessed with the ability to wake up in the morning, is filled with all of those emotions. Happy things, tragic things, and life goes on.

I lit the yahrzeit candle for Husband #1’s father because, well, Husband #1 doesn’t know how to light a match. See — laughter and sadness. So I lit the candle, and Husband #1 and I went to read the megillah for a few people. Since I am his manager, I come along. Mainly so he doesn’t get lost. I also time his readings. His first reading was 26 minutes, which is slow for him, and his fastest time this season was 16 minutes. (Fastest time on record is 14 minutes.)

And then we would come home, and he would look at the candle. The candle actually burned six hours longer than it should have, and I am convinced it is because Husband #1’s dad wanted to hear us talk about Purim. Does that mean he hears us talking about other things? Uh oh…

May the neshama of Menachem Mendel Yitzhak have an aliyah.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck did not receive any Snickers this Purim season. She’s assuming it is because they weren’t on sale.