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Harav Hagaon Shmuel Wolman Shlita

The Goal of Constant Celebration

Purim Katan

Harav Hagaon Shmuel Wolman Shlita

There is one Yom Tov that occurs only in a leap year: the Yom tov of Purim Katan, which we will experience this Friday and Shabbos, 14 and 15 Adar Aleph. The Shulchan Aruch presents the limited dinim that apply to this Yom Tov: We don’t say Tachanun or למנצח, and there is a machlokes as to whether hesped and fasting are forbidden. The Rema records a “יש אומרים” that חייב להרבות במשתה ושמחה, and he comments that although we do not follow this custom, it’s still worthwhile to fulfill the custom a bit: ירבה קצת בסעודה כדי לצאת ידי המחמירים. Then, the Rema cryptically adds these words from Mishlei: וְטוֹב לֵב מִשְׁתֶּה תָמִיד.

It’s not clear what the Rema’s message is here. Some say that since this is the last halachah in Orach Chaim, the Rema was just looking for an appropriate ending to his commentary, so he chose a nice passuk that connects with the concept of mishteh. The Mishnah Berurah seems to understand that the Rema is bringing this passuk to encourage increased seudah on Purim Katan, as a tov lev would relish every opportunity to be marbeh b’simchah in honor of the nes that happened at that time.

It’s possible, however, that the Rema is alluding to something deeper. Perhaps he is saying that although the primary minhag is that it’s not necessary to be marbeh b’mishteh on Purim Katan, he still encourages us to experience some sort of mishteh, as besides this being a way to fulfill the opinion of the machmirim, there’s a concept of וְטוֹב לֵב מִשְׁתֶּה תָמִיד that one is meant to feel on Purim Katan.

In order to properly appreciate this directive, we need to first understand what this passuk is teaching us. Simply understood, it would seem to be lauding constant celebration, which seems strange. Is life one big party? What does Shlomo Hamelech mean when he says that a “tov lev” is always celebrating?

To properly understand these words, we need to study the full passuk, and consider the dichotomy it presents: כָּל יְמֵי עָנִי רָעִים וְטוֹב לֵב מִשְׁתֶּה תָמִיד. This seems odd: Is a tov lev the opposite of an ani? Does a rich man by definition have a good heart, and does a poor man have a bad heart? What is Shlomo Hamelech’s message here?

The Gra (commentary to Mishleii) explains that this is not referring to material wealth, but rather to wealthy and poverty as the Mishnah defines it: איזהו עשיר השמח בחלקו, and the corollary is that a pauper is someone who is not satisfied with his lot. Shlomo Hamelech is expressing that the way a person experiences life has very little to do with whether he is among the haves or the have-nots; it is a function of his perspective. A person who is unhappy with his lot will experience a difficult life regardless of his objective financial status: כָּל יְמֵי עָנִי רָעִים. What he has is never enough, never as good as he would like it to be. He always wishes his life would be different. On the other hand, a person who is happy with his life is rich; wealth, Shlomo Hamelech is teaching us, is a byproduct of being a tov lev. Such a person experiences perpetual mishteh; for him, life is great, and everything is as good as it could possibly be.

With the words וְטוֹב לֵב מִשְׁתֶּה תָמִיד, Shlomo Hamelech is not encouraging constant partying. Rather, he is describing the experience of the tov lev, who is able to be happy and feel that every day is a reason for celebration, as he focuses on all the good that is showered upon him.

With this in mind, perhaps we can suggest that the Rema is conveying a fundamental lesson that arises from the unique requirement of mishteh v’simchah on Purim, which will spur us to take the opportunity to connect with the mishteh v’simchah of Purim Katan. He is saying that if there’s any opinion that encourages mishteh v’simchah on Purim Katan, then besides the general concept of being machmir to fulfill all the opinions, there’s also a specific opportunity here to focus on the concept of וְטוֹב לֵב מִשְׁתֶּה תָמִיד.

What about the mishteh v’simchah of Purim connects us to the experience of וְטוֹב לֵב מִשְׁתֶּה תָמִיד?

Purim is the only Yom Tov that features not only a requirement of simchah, but also a din of mishteh. In fact, even the requirement of simchah on Purim is a derivative of the din of mishteh. On every Yom Tov, we are required to celebrate with meat and wine, but the wine is essentially the same as the meat in that both are meant to facilitate one’s feeling of inner joy. Purim is unusual in that mishteh is actually the focus of the celebration, and the simchah of Purim is part and parcel of the experience of that mishteh.

Hidden Hashgachah

Purim also features the din of מיחייב איניש לבסומי בפוריא, which is not relevant to any other Yom Tov. What is so unique about the avodas hayom of Purim that spurred Chazal to encourage mishteh and עד דלא ידע as a value and a desired result?

The Gra and others explain that what distinguished the nes of Purim is that it was performed completely naturally, within the framework of hester panim. As the story of the Megillah unfolds, there are many points when everything seems bleak and hopeless. Yet the ונהפוך הוא that we experience at the end of the Megillah gives us incredible insight into Hashgachah Pratis, demonstrating how Hashem prepares the refuah before the makkah and that even in the hester, Hakadosh Baruch Hu is not only kulo tov, but is working to orchestrate the salvation and wrap the miracles into nature in a way that’s appropriate for the hanhagah of hester panim.

This is the special simchah that one is meant to feel on Purim: the recognition that everything is perfect, and that behind what might feel like hester panim is the Master Conductor pulling all the strings, synchronizing every last detail to benefit us in the most favorable way possible. When one internalizes this idea, not only does he feel simchah, but his heart swells as he experiences that close connection with his Tatte in Himmel, who doesn’t just have his back but is taking care of him in the best possible way.

This paves the way for one to celebrate with mishteh. When Chazal suggest that this mishteh is meant to bring us to a level of inebriation where we lose our daas, the point is not that we are meant to lose our self-control; rather, we are meant to relinquish our daas to the Eibishter, out of the recognition, which arises from the nes of Purim, that we really have no way to distinguish between ארור המן לברוך מרדכי. Our own daas would conclude that one is the epitome of good while the other is the epitome of bad, but on Purim we gain a new perspective, one that spurs us to negate our daas and perception to the daas Elyon. Only the Eibishter, the ultimate Meitiv, knows what is truly for our good.

Wine as a Paradigm

Rashi interprets מיחייב איניש לבסומי as a requirement להשתכר ביין. Many poskim derive from this statement of Rashi that one must fulfill this din specifically with wine, to the exclusion of other intoxicating beverages. Some mefarshim explain that since so much of the nes of Purim revolved around wine, Chazal wanted to connect the mitzvah of mishteh with wine. But perhaps we can add a deeper understanding of this requirement.

Wine is unique in that it is the only item for which Chazal instituted the berachah of hatov vehameitiv, to be recited when a more chashuveh wine than the one previously served is brought to the table. Why is this berachah relevant only for wine? Tosafos, in Pesachim, is bothered by this question.

Maybe we can suggest that an uninitiated person who witnesses the process of wine-making might find the process perplexing. First, the most beautiful grapes are harvested, but then, they dump them into a pit and people start stomping on them and crushing them into one big mess. At least now we have grape juice, the onlooker reasons, but then he sees the juice being left to bake in the sun until it ferments, and then buried in a barrel for years to allow it to ferment further. To this onlooker, the process seems counterintuitive and destructive, but a person who understands what is going on recognizes that this seemingly destructive process actually improves the grapes and yields a superior end product: wine.

In that sense, wine provides insight into Hashem’s Hashgachah, which also seems counterintuitive at times. Wine helps us understand that everything is for the good; Hakadosh Baruch Hu is a tov and a meitiv, so every process He puts us through is ultimately for our benefit, even if it seems difficult or destructive. Accordingly, we can explain that when we relinquish our daas to the Eibishter, we are meant to do so specifically through wine, which represents this clarity of recognizing that whatever happens screams hatov vehameitiv — which is the declaration we make when we are presented with a more chashuv wine, as it symbolizes this very process.

We can now explain that the Rema is hinting to us that the misheteh of Purim is the mishteh that is experienced constantly by a tov lev, who recognizes that life is perfect and could not be better, because his Tatte in Himmel is orchestrating everything in absolute harmony. He knows that Hakadosh Baruch Hu is hatov vehameitiv, so even what appears to be the darkest hester could not possibly be better, in the sense of what is ultimately good. This attitude generates a feeling of וְטוֹב לֵב מִשְׁתֶּה תָמִיד, and that is what the Rema is alluding to with his cryptic final comment: If we truly connect to that burst of clarity that comes along with the mishteh of Purim, we will become a tov lev whose life is a mishteh tamid, and we will relish the opportunity to experience that mishteh even on Purim Katan.

The Two Tamids

It’s interesting to note that the Orach Chaim section of Shulchan Aruch begins with the halachos governing a person’s daily conduct, then moves onto the weekly mitzvos of Shabbos, and then addresses the less frequent halachos of the moadim that occur only once a year. The last siman of Orach Chaim discusses the rarest Yom Tov, Purim Katan. Yet the Rema begins siman aleph with one tamid — שִׁוִּיתִי ה’ לְנֶגְדִּי תָמִיד — and ends with another tamid: וְטוֹב לֵב מִשְׁתֶּה תָמִיד. What is the significance of these two bookends of tamid that seem to represent two polarized focuses?

According to the way we explained the Rema’s final comment, the two tamids are really one continuum, representing the bookends of the Orach Chaim of every Yid. We live with a constant awareness of the Eibishter and a connection to Him — שִׁוִּיתִי ה’ לְנֶגְדִּי תָמִיד — and that reins us in to the discipline of Torah and mitzvos, but it also enables us to develop into a tov lev who feels the Eibishter’s continuous embrace and experiences mishteh tamid every day of life, which is how the Rema concludes Orach Chaim.

As we celebrate this rare Yom Tov of Purim Katan, let us follow the advice of the Rema to be marbeh b’mishteh as an avodah of feeling the Eibishter’s constant presence and protection, which will afford us the life of a tov lev, of a sameiach b’chelko, who is in a state of mishteh tamid.

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