Rethinking sage advice at Purim

(JNS) - This year, as we have done for decades, my husband and I will celebrate Purim with a sumptuous meal and copious amounts of good drink. It'll be nothing compared to the 180-day banquet that Queen Esther is said to have hosted after the Jews of Persia were saved from Haman's evil plans, but it will be festive. And keeping with today's exhaustive list of medical advisories about food, it will probably be heart-healthy.

Purim isn't exactly the time when we look forward to reshaping our diet or our drinking habits, though. After all, it's one of only two holidays in which Jews are actually commanded to eat and drink to excess. At Passover, we're expected to drink four glasses of wine (spread out, thankfully, throughout the Passover dinner) as a joyous celebration of the Israelites liberation from bondage.

But both commandments seem a bit baffling to me. Excessive drinking has never been an encouraged Jewish trait. In fact, up until the 1970s to 1980s, Jews were among the least likely ethno-religious group to drink to excess.

Yet, according to the fourth-century sage Rava, it is a religious commandment for a person not only to drink but "to become intoxicated with wine on Purim until he does not know how to distinguish between cursed is Haman and blessed is Mordechai."

I've not tried it, but that seems like a lot of wine.

Not all of the ancient rabbis though, sided with the Rava's decision, and not all rabbis through the centuries have agreed with how the meaning of the word levasumei has been interpreted. It is often translated as "to become intoxicated," but it can also mean "fragrant" or "be mellow" (with wine).

Could the statement have meant something else? Could the great sage's words be part of a parable to discourage excessive drinking? Or could the mitzvah to "become intoxicated" really have to do with something entirely different: the inebriating and elevating power of the spiritual joy of Purim?

However the statement was intended to be read, we do know that wine has been a part of Jewish life and traditions pretty much since Abraham's time. Our favorite fermented drink has played a role in just about every contemporary religious and social event-from welcoming in Shabbat to celebrating holidays. The ancient rabbis were also astutely aware of the emotional benefits that could be derived from wine, as well as its profound dangers.

"[Wine] cheers the heart of man" wrote the psalmist in Psalm 104:15. On the other hand, in Rabbi Judah Halevi bar Shalom's view, wine could never be a trustworthy partner, especially for those who cherished clear-thinking and a spotless reputation. He counseled abstinence: "When wine enters [the body], knowledge departs. ... Drink no wine or intoxicating liquor." (Midrash Tanchuma Buber, Shmini 7).

These days, both perspectives have their supporters-and their detractors. According to America's highest medical office, Rabbi Halevi's cautionary words are worth listening to.

Last January the U.S. Surgeon General's office released a bombshell: A new, 22-page advisory warning Americans of the documented link between alcohol and cancer.

It's not the first time that Dr. Vivek Murthy has written about the risks of alcohol consumption. But this time, the advisory warned that no amount of alcohol, even in moderate drinking, is safe. That's because researchers have finally confirmed the way that alcohol is synthesized in the body and the by-product it becomes, which is acetaldehyde, a known carcinogen. Murthy has called for Congress to issue warning labels on all alcohol products.

The future implications for how we celebrate our festivals could be profound. For many older adults, like me, raising a glass of kosher grape juice in lieu of wine may seem like just another new weird lifestyle change. But convincing younger generations to swear off the very drink their ancestors used for millennia and that has shaped their Jewish holiday traditions may be a lot harder. It may be an even greater challenge right now in Israel, where alcohol use has been on the rise following the terrorist attacks on Oct. 7, 2023, and the ensuing war.

In some ways, the decisions our communities now face are similar to those of earlier generations when rabbis were setting the standards for how Purim-with its social reliance on wine and revelry-should be celebrated. It's well known that some sages imbibed in alcohol while others abstained. But many were acutely aware of the dangers of excess. Today, Jews face similar challenges in confronting health decisions that may not pair well with the traditions and customs we are so fond of, especially those that we treat as central to religious practice.

I can't help but wonder how something that humans have drinking for almost 9,000 years could now be too dangerous to touch, just because we possess technology that gives a unique-and possibly incomplete-understanding of its science. We are often quick to assume that we know the full story about science and the history that has shaped how we live.

This Purim, my husband and I will welcome in the festival with a glass of kosher grape juice. We'll read the Megillah and celebrate Esther's miracle. And while we're at it, we'll tip another glass to the incongruity of science.

Jan Lee is an award-winning editorial writer and former news editor. Her articles and op-eds have been published in a variety of Jewish and travel publications, including the Baltimore Jewish Times, B'nai B'rith Magazine, Jewish Independent and The Times of Israel.