Purim

Purim

Micaiah Ben Malachi

 

            Almost every Jew knows of the story of Purim.  I say almost because many Jews know the words of the story but never lived the story.  I have been a live five and one half decades.  I was born during a time when my people fled the Upper and Lower South in America.  They came North, above the Mason – Dixon line in search of better jobs, better housing, better schools for their children and freedom from Jim Crow.  My paternal grandmother knew nothing but hard work as a sharecropper.  She knew Black Americans and African American children could expect nothing else for their future unless she acted.  It was not an easy decision to make. My grandmother left her young son in the care of her aging father and went North.  In 1941, she stepped off the train in Illinois.  This Esther did not know if her move would cost her everything or be a promise of freedom for herself and her son.      My grandmama traded her life of a sharecropper to be a housekeeper for an ill white lady.  Eventually, Grandmama found a job working for a hotel as a maid.  Little did she know Adonai was guiding her steps in this polite but never the less racist northern South. This courageous and outspoken woman worked her way to become a floor supervisor of the maids and met many of the permanent residents of the hotel.  Many of the residents were former soldiers of World War II.  Among these men was a comical and loving White Jewish man.  He and my grandmother became close friends and their friendship lead to her meeting some of the most wealthy and influential and Jewish people in the community. Over the years she was offered and bought a house in which she lived in before her death at age 95.  This house set upon a hill and was visible from a long way and had an open door policy.  Race, religion and gender did not matter; there was always room to stay with her while people traveled on to their next stop. About seven years passed and she sent for her son to come live with her.  He did for a while but returned to the South. He could not forgive the hurt he suffered at the hands of White people before and after her absence.

            In the 1940's, a young Black former soldier living in the State of Louisiana return from the war with two Jewish children from a Displaced Persons Camp in Europe.  The children were from a German concentration camp.  The children were raised as his and they left home to begin their lives elsewhere.  This Black man was nicknamed by the Whites as Jew Boy. A White man was contracted to install a septic tank.  However, he did an unsatisfactory job and the Black man told him, he would not be paid until the job was complete.  The White man cursed at him and swung at him.  The former Black soldier knocked the White man to the floor.  The White man rose to his feet and declared to the Black man, he had better be out of town before sundown or he would not see another one.  Haman was reborn in the form of this White man.  The Deep and Upper South was full of the sons and daughters of this deceitful, lying, racist patriarch.

            The former Black soldier called some of old war buddies who lived in Illinois and told them about the threat.  They sent a White Esther to save the life of a Black man.  He was placed under the floorboard of the car and the woman drove all night until he was in Illinois and out of the Southern Klu Klux Klan area.  When he arrived they provided him clothing, a place to sleep and hired him as a grounds keeper so his pride was not hurt. Eventually, the Black man was introduced to my Grandmama and he became my Grandfather.  The point of my story is to point out reading the mere words of the Book of Esther cannot convey the true fear and persecution the Jews suffered and the real danger they faced if Haman got his way.  Today, there are many children of Haman.  Their hatred is boundless.  They can be found in every race, every religion, every country, every town and yes, in every family.  Purim is not about what happened yesterday long ago, but rather a warning to Jews and non- Jews alike of what evil lurks in the hearts of men and women who are Haman's descendents.  Esther placed herself second and her people first when it came to saving them from utter annihilation.  We owe her so much.  We also owe all those who shoulders held our weight so we could climb over the high walls of hatred.