Bad Jew, No Mitzvos For You!

I forgot Purim. This is not shocking. I am not, let us face facts, what anyone would call observant. Hell, I don’t even believe in organized religion. I mean, obviously, I believe it exists. I just don’t think it has anything to do with me. I don’t happen to think that G-d, omniscient and omnipresent deity that He is, needs you to be in a specific place at a set time to know you believe in Him. Call me wacky, if you will! I’m not a big proponent of prayer. Again, He’s omniscient (look it up) so He should know, well, everything. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not putting the knock on it. If you feel better after attending services or praying then go for it. I do, however, knock those who complain that G-d didn’t answer their prayers. Maybe He has bigger fish to fry (war, famine, plague…ya’ know, the big three). Maybe the answer was simply “No.” Who’s to say? I do know that I, personally, have been waiting on the right lotto numbers for years. So, get in line.

All that being said, Purim has always sounded like a fun holiday. I’ve never celebrated it. . . Except for hamantaschen. You have to love a religion that’s based on a system of fast and feast. We should be endorsed by Bulimia. But, that’s as may be. I never dressed up as Queen Esther. I never read the Megillah. Well, not for Purim. I have read it but just for fun. I know. I’m weird. I read Mishnah for fun. Don’t judge me, or I will turn this blog around & start quoting The Lubevitcher Rebbe! But, I digress. . . .

I like the story of how one woman, with the help of a few good meals, saved her people. It’s good stuff. She was a brave broad that Hadassah. Xerxes was not a man to annoy…just ask the Spartans. I, contrary to my mothers misguided opinion, would have lain low. That’s just me. In honor of my (probable) cowardice I close with the following atrocious poem (bit of a doddle, really).

When someone calls you a kike
then that is the time to strike.
When legions call you a Yid
go run and get yourself hid.
For it might be hurtful but it’s still true
that you’re just as dead when you’re martyred. Nu?

A (belated) Freilichen Purim, everybody.