Throughout his writings, Rav Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook zy”a, makes it clear that the celebrated rise of interest in “pnimiyus” upon which the coming redemption depends, is more than a particular area of Torah on the shelves of a particular section of your local seforim store. The lens of pnimiyus haTorah, which enables us to look beyond the outer garments of the simple meanings and glimpse deeper and more interior interpretations of Tanach and maamarei Chazal, eventually has a transformative effect on the general outlook of a person. Sensitive to more essential layers of reality than those that initially meet the eye, the Ish Pnimi is attuned to the inner meaning of history, current events, and the people, places, and circumstances he personally encounters on his journey through life.
More so than any other day of the year, Purim is a day that is saturated with the energy of pnimiyus. The story of Purim is “Megillas Esther.” It reveals (“megaleh”) that which is hidden (“hester”). On Purim, we are privy to the realization that even though His Signature may not always be so obvious, Hashem is guiding everything. Just as the decree of Haman appeared imminent, only to immediately fall away and reveal a completely different storyline, so too Am Yisrael’s indulgent pleasure at the seudah of Achashveirosh was only “l’fanim,” only on the surface, because b’pnimiyus, they maintained their essential purity and connection to Hashem. (See Megillah 12a and Machshavos Charutz 14.)
The wine enters (“nichnas yayin”), and the secret depth of reality emerges (“v’yatzah sod”), allowing us to achieve a state of consciousness where “kam Rabbah v’shach’ta l’Rav Zeira,” our broad-minded perspectives rise to “slaughter” our narrowness: the more shallow views we ordinarily hold.
But perhaps the most radical expression of Purim’s revelatory nature is the Arizal’s teaching that the drunken utterance of “Baruch Haman” refers to the secretive strengthening of the spark of holiness (Baruch) that exists even within the most impure aspects of reality (Haman). Purim tears open reality so totally that we are able to recognize the goodness that powers everything: the way in which every aspect of reality is vivified by the essential value it has, the role it plays, in Hashem’s Masterplan. (See Pri Eitz Chaim, Kavanos Purim 6, and Likutei Moharan 33:3.)
What might this mean for us, today?
In Likutei Moharan 18, Rebbe Nachman writes about a concept called “hafaras kaas b’rachmanus — the transmutation of anger into compassion.” The Tzadik quotes the pasuk, “b’rogez rachem tizkor,” and alludes to this that while, on the surface, these words mean, “although You are angry with us, please act toward us with mercy,” there is a deeper understanding: “While we may have acted in ways that provoke Your frustration, please look deeper and see how stuck we feel, how much pain we are in. Instead of anger, respond to the very actions that are upsetting you with compassion. Because Hashem, if we are hurting You, it is only because we ourselves are hurting (“hurt people, hurt people”). We are just desperately seeking some comfort, some balm for our wounds, and looking in all the wrong places.”
Perhaps we may borrow this idea to help us understand what it means to “find the spark of kedusha in Haman.” Purim enables us, to embody the consciousness of “b’rogez, rachem tizkor,” glimpsing a deeper truth beyond the external shell of the guy driving aggressively on the highway, the “rebellious” teen on the street corner, or the coworker with a habit for sarcastic comments. If I allow the light of Purim into my heart and soul, I can live every day with the intention of being “megaleh the hester,” not simply reacting to what I see on the surface, but having the presence of mind to patiently respond to what’s really going on (moving from the animalistic experience of “medameh” to the more human experience of “seichel,” see Likutei Moharan 25).
That’s not an aggressive guy who just cut me off — it’s a person whose insecurity is causing them to feel the need to feel powerful. That’s not a “rebellious teen” — it’s a hurting neshama just trying to feel heard. That coworker isn’t cruel; it’s just that his rough childhood makes it difficult for him to fit in. With this consciousness, my response isn’t anger toward the behaviors I see on the surface, but compassion for the deeper layers I am able to perceive beyond. “Oy, nebach. Look at how much pain this soul is in.”
When we can approach the world in this way, it is then that we will be able to adequately address the true maladies we face, the root issues of which we so often merely diagnose the symptoms. And, as Rebbe Nachman teaches us (see Likutei Moharan 282 as well as Pardes Rimonim 16:7), by finding the nekudah tovah of every person we encounter, the “Baruch” even within the “Haman,” it is possible that this itself will be the transformative shift that will enable those around us to heal, experiencing their very own “v’nahapoch hu” amidst “orah, v’simcha, v’sasson, v’yekar.”
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