Understanding the Mind of the Enemy (3/16/08)

This year, the Hebrew month of Adar II began with a shocking, tragic event – the brutal murder of several Yeshiva students in Jerusalem by terrorists. Not surprisingly, this provoked many people to speak out in news comments and blogs on the Internet.

There, I came across a comment expressing bewilderment that this attack came about just after Israel reinitiated peace negotiations with the Palestinian Authority. To me, however, it is not the attack that is puzzling, but rather the comment’s surprise at its timing. Indeed, this has become a recurring event in a consistent cycle – for if you look back at the (unfortunately) many years of terrorist attacks in Israel, you will find that most occurred during peace negotiations.

Why is this? The easy answer is that some among the Arabs simply do not want peace – so they undermine it at every turn. But is there perhaps something more to it than that?

The timing of events is not mere chance. Each point on the Hebrew calendar teaches its lessons; and from one of the important themes in this particular month – Adar, in which we celebrate the festival of Purim – I believe we will gain profound insight into this event and the pattern it represents.

Mordechai rectifies Yaakov’s bow

In recounting the story of Purim, the Megillah describes that everyone bowed down to Haman except Mordechai. Why did Mordechai refuse to bow as well?

The plain reason is that Haman wore an idol around his neck; and Mordechai (called haYehudi) knew that as a Jew he was forbidden to bow before it. However, the Megillah relates later that “Haman became fully enraged” because he “saw that Mordechai would not bow down to him.”  Some commentators ask: 1) If all the people had bowed to the idol Haman wore, why does the verse tell us that Mordechai had refused to bow “to him,” rather than “to his idol”? And 2) if Mordechai had refused to bow all along, why did Haman become enraged only now?

To resolve these difficulties, they suggest that when Haman saw Mordechai’s refusal to bow to him with the idol around his neck, he removed it – hoping that even if Mordechai rebuffed his idol, he would not refuse to bow down “to him,” Haman himself. When Mordechai still refused to bow – even just “to him” – it was then that “Haman became fully enraged.”

We may ask, however: Why was it so important to Haman that Mordechai bow down “to him” – without the idol – that this is what finally sparked his full anger? What did he expect to gain that this drove him to rage?

A very interesting Midrash may help us answer this question: It relates that in order to persuade Mordechai to bow down to him, Haman argued that (as the Torah tells us) when Eisav sought to kill him, Yaakov bowed down to Eisav – Haman’s ancestor; certainly, Haman reasoned, Mordechai could not consider himself superior to his holy ancestor Yaakov!  

[Parenthetically, we see here that Haman’s concern was not that Mordechai should bow before the idol around his neck – for he equates their situation to Yaakov bowing before Eisav, who wore no idol around his neck.]

To this, Mordechai replied that he was descended from Binyamin (as the Megillah calls him, “Ish Yemini,” i.e., from Binyamin) Yaakov’s youngest son, who was not yet born when Yaakov bowed to Eisav – and so he could not be bound by this precedent!

The teachings of the holy Arizal (the premier Kabbalist, R. Yitzchak Luria) take the relationship between these two events a step further, however: Mordechai and Haman were not just physical descendants of Yaakov and Eisav – each was in fact the reincarnated soul of his distant ancestor. When Mordechai refused to bow down to Haman, then, it was actually to rectify the wrongful act his soul had committed when Yaakov bowed down to Eisav.

What, however, was the grave error that Yaakov had committed? Why did his soul require this rectification?

Bend, bow … compromise

Let us first examine what transpired between Yaakov and Eisav:  

As the Torah and Midrashim relate, Yaakov knew his brother’s blood-thirsty ways; and fearing that Eisav meant to kill him, he made efforts to appease him – sending him gifts, even bowing down to him.

His efforts, however, were less than successful – to say the least. After all the gifts Yaakov sent, the Torah tells us that Eisav continued toward him with an army of 400 men; and though Yaakov humbled himself in bowing down to him, Eisav still attempted to hurt him – as Rashi tells us, even as he kissed his brother, Eisav actually harbored malicious intent to bite and injure Yaakov.

How – despite all Yaakov’s expressions of goodwill and appeasement – could Eisav not have had a change of heart? The answer lies in Eisav’s essential character:

In his unappeasable antipathy for Yaakov – ancestor of all the Jewish people – Eisav serves as the prototype of the irrationally bigoted anti-Semite. When one hates unconditionally, there is no way to calm or conciliate him. Even when neighbors and friends dispute, both sides are ultimately committed to living in harmony; and they will take the time and make the effort to work out their differences. They seek peace by whatever means necessary – they negotiate, compromise, even giving in when required.

However, when dealing with someone who simply cannot tolerate your presence, inexplicably seeking not peace but your elimination – negotiation is ultimately a futile activity. No matter what you offer, nothing you can do will satisfy them – for they are not actually interested in peaceful coexistence on any terms.  Indeed, even their overtures to compromise and negotiation are cynical games intended to wither your will, weaken your resolve, even divide and destroy you.

As a result, when you show the irrational enemy your willingness to compromise – it is tragically counter-productive, for it serves only to encourage him. This sort of unconditional hate-monger interprets your goodwill and conciliation as weakness, fear and a failure to believe in your own ideals and philosophy; and so he feels empowered to take advantage.

It was this exact weakness that Haman sought to breed in Mordechai. When he saw Mordechai resolute in his refusal to bow before his idol, Haman simply removed it; for his one ambition was to whittle away at Mordechai’s resolve. As long as he could get him to capitulate in some way – bowing down “to him” at least, if not to his deity – Haman could count this as success toward his ultimate motive.

In turn, however, it is precisely for this reason that Mordechai refused to bow down, even “to him”! For Mordechai knew that any display of weakness before Haman was a path to certain destruction; thus when Haman saw that he would not succeed to dislodge Mordechai from his resolute position – it was then that “Haman became fully enraged.”

Here, the Megillah’s language tells the story: Describing Mordechai’s refusal to bow, it says, “lo yichra” – which, in addition to “he would not bow,” may also be read to mean that “he would not compromise”; for under no circumstances would Mordechai bend – neither bowing his head nor compromising his ideals to Haman’s wishes.

Past, present and future

The Megillah’s story is for all times; thus it should come as no surprise in our own days that just at the moment we attempt “peace” or “negotiations” with enemies irrationally committed to eliminating us from their midst – we are treated instead to tragic terrorist attacks. If we show any unilateral goodwill, they interpret it as our weakness; and feeling empowered, they take advantage.

So too, the Megillah’s lessons are eternal. Indeed, when it describes Mordechai’s refusal to bow down then – it states, “lo yichreh v’lo yishtachaveh,” that “he will not bow down.” Why should an event in the past be described in the future tense?

In fact, this is to teach us a lesson for all the Jewish people at all times – past, present and future: We must know that we can never bow down to enemies committed to eliminate our presence. We cannot accede to any of their desires or demands; even negotiation with unconditional enemies is a road to disaster. Naive expressions of goodwill can only result in disappointment – and worse, as we have seen over and over, tragedy and sorrow. Instead, like Mordechai, we must be steadfast in our own commitments and ideals, and recognize the unrepentant hate monger’s cynical ploys and dangerous goals for what they are.

In the Megillah, we read that the miracle of Purim began to unfold in the middle of the night; as King Achashvarosh, unable to sleep, opened the “Book of Records,” where he read the good deeds that Mordechai had done for him. Let us hope and pray that so too, during this dark night of galus (exile), may our King in Heaven – the “Guardian of Israel” who “neither slumbers nor sleeps” – open His Book of Records to see all the good deeds that His people have done, and unfold the miracles of the Ultimate Redemption before our eyes.

Happy Purim!