Jewish joy is the triumph of our way of seeing the world over theirs

P
urim may be over by the time you read this, but it’s not too late to recall the story about a shikker in Krakow who’d begin his heavier-than-usual Purim-time drinking on the first of Adar. When asked about this minhag of his, he’d explain, “Haman harasha really wanted the annihilation of the Jews to extend throughout the month of Adar. He only agreed to limit the slaughter to one day, the 14th of Adar, in order to hedge his bets. In case the Jews found a way to avert the decree, Haman reasoned, their celebration of his downfall would be a one-day affair rather than a monthlong one. Haman was willing to do anything to stop Jews from rejoicing, even if it meant limiting his own evil designs to one short day.”
And, taking another swig from his bottle, he concluded, “Well, I’ll show him. There’s no way that rasha merusha Haman’s going to stop me from celebrating all month long….”
Far be it from me to want to deny a Jew the chance to have the last quaff at the expense of that shlemiel from Shushan. And perhaps, despite having offered his explanation while in a state called ad d’lo yada (known as the 51st state, beyond the 50 of binah, it requires no liquor license), perhaps our Poilisher friend actually knew more than we think.
Why, indeed, would it terrify Haman for Jews to spend a full month in happy celebration? The Gemara (Taanis 29a) cites a teaching of Rav Yehudah, son of Rav Shmuel bar Shilas, in the name of Rav: Just as we start minimizing our joy with the advent of Av, so do we commence increasing our joy from the beginning of Adar. Who was this Rav Yehudah? According to one reading of the Gemara (Sanhedrin 96b), it is to his father, Shmuel bar Shilas, that Chazal refer when they state that a “descendant of Haman learned Torah in Bnei Brak.”
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