“And Moshe didn’t know that the skin of his face had become radiant….” (Shemos 34:29)
WE generally read Ki Sisa soon after Purim. What’s the link between the seriousness of the Eigel Hazahav and breaking the Luchos, with the levity enjoyed on Purim?
This year, under the influence of Purim and an overflowing cup of wine, I uncovered a profoundly meaningful linkage: that of the role of imposters.
Masquerades are an integral component of Purim. Children, adults, even the most subdued at least wears a garish tie. The goal of the day is to reenact the concept of v’nahafoch hu: the opposite, which occurred in the Purim miracle. We masquerade, pretending to be the opposites of who we really are.
Ironically, most of us are masquerading all year long. We hide our real selves in public, playing the roles we think society expects of us. We present a public image, a facade we hope will bring admiration, approval, and success. (Rabbi Tzvi Hersh Weinreb, OU Torah)
“Omg! Are you Faigy Peritzman? I read your column every week! I know everything about you!”
This kind of exchange happens more often than I’d like when venturing out of my own social circle. I’ve seriously considered plated asking my husband to change our last name to something innocuous like Shnitzelmacher or Shmalzfresser. C’mon, nobody will know me then!
Now let’s link Purim to the parshah. Did you know that, of all people, Moshe himself wore a mask? When he descended from Har Sinai with the second set of Luchos, it says his skin was radiant, making it hard to look at him. So Moshe revealed to Bnei Yisrael all Hashem had told him, and then he put on a veil so the radiance of his face shouldn’t be uncomfortable. Yet Moshe didn’t wear the mask until he finished directly speaking with Bnei Yisrael. He also didn’t wear it when he was speaking with Hashem.
Moshe knew that masks may be worn, but with great discretion. When speaking with Hashem, one must shed all masks, hiding nothing. And when trying to reach or teach someone, absolute authenticity is a must. Moshe knew when to assert himself publicly with the full radiance of his personality, and when to withdraw in solitude and modesty.
What often surprises me the most is that when I’m writing my anecdotes, I’m safe in my room, typing away in a creative buzz, oblivious to the world around me. The “me” typing forgets there’s a real person on the other end who’ll be reading what I type. It’s always jarring when I meet a random stranger who actually read those words and now feels a strong connection to me… and I still don’t know anything about them!
So to even out the score, I decided to enlighten you on a few pithy details that may prove you don’t really know everything about me.
