A few weeks ago, just before the annual feast of Purim, which in 2017 fell in March, I went to the small shop in our synagogue in Waterloo Street in downtown Singapore to buy a new Ratchet (Ra’ashan in Hebrew). This musical percussion instrument consists of a gearwheel and a stiff board mounted on a handle. When rotated rapidly by the holder, it emits a piercing rattle. It figures when the Scroll of Esther is read out.
This Scroll relates how Haman induced the then King of Persia to issue a decree ordering the annihilation of all Jews throughout his large kingdom. The ploy is averted by the two heroes of the Scroll: Queen Esther and her Jewish uncle, one Mordecai.
Each year this scroll is read out during Purim in Jewish congregations around the world. Our people are not disturbed by the fact that modern Bible Critique avers that the name of both heroes may have been borrowed from the Mesopotamian deities Marduk and Ishtar. If anything, this adds to the fun: Purim has always been a holiday of layers – of costumes, of irony and, it seems, of history too. When the Scroll of Esther is read out by the Rabbi, each male member of the congregation “turns the rattle” whenever the name of the arch enemy – Haman – is read out.
Some seventy sixty five years ago, our Rabbi in Tel Aviv was a fellow called Mordecai, a name often given by Jewish mothers to their first born. This Rabbi was a pleasant man, admired by the entire flock. Still, he was prone to be the victim of practical jokers, usually bestowing on the perpetrators a forgiving smile when the ploy became apparent.
In 1954 we – the radical members of the community – brought our rattles with us with a view to playing a trick on him. When he read out the name “Mordecai”, which appears in chapter 2 of the Scroll of Esther, all radicals turned their rattles furiously. The Rabbi looked startled but, assuming someone made a mistake, went on reading the Scroll as if nothing had happened.
A few seconds later, all of us had a surprise. Two girls from our class had smuggled horns into ‘Azarath H’Nanshim’ {the women’s segregated space} which was on the second floor of the spacious (rather liberal) synagogue. As the Rabbi pronounced “Esther”, in the very next verse, one lass blew the instrument.
Once again, the Rabbi pretended not to have heard. A few minutes later, when the name “Haman” had to be read out, the ordinary – traditional – male members of the congregation used their own rattles. The Rabbi smiled at them approvingly.
The reading of the Scroll of Esther takes some forty minutes. On this occasion, rattles were use whenever the names Mordecai and Haman were read out. Further, the two girls kept blowing the horns – to honour Esther – and the ultra orthodox members showed their devotion by rattling not only to curse Haman but also whenever the Rabbi had to read out the names of Haman’s wife and sons. Suffice it to say that throughout the entire pandemonium, Rabbi Mordecai appeared unrattled and maintained his dignified expression.
When reading came to its end, the entire congregation applauded him. Afraid of having to yield to the claim for an encore, the Rabbi rolled up the scroll and deposited it in the ark. He then went on to deliver his sermon which – to tell the truth – was an anti- climax.
Would such a merry event ever happen in staid Singapore? Although our present Rabbi is also named Mordecai, I have my doubts. All the same, I bought a new rattle with the hope of joining the crowd should the outrage be repeated by some radical members of our tight-nit community. Life has taught me never to rule out unexpected event.