Humor and Our Collective Healing
by Yael Leibowitz // Guest Post from Israel
In early May, I started reading a collection of essays titled "Esther’s Wisdom: A Collection of Essays” by the Matan Kitvani Fellows". This book was created by Matan—a pioneering institute for Torah education for women (more on Matan at the end of this post).
All the essays were terrific, and one in particular called Humor and Our Collective Healing by Yael Leibowitz struck a chord with me regarding something paradoxical happening within myself and our community lately—humor in the midst of challenging times. There has been a noticeable surge of satirical videos and humorous content circulating. I also found myself laughing alone or with Jewish friends as we discussed some of the frightening events unfolding around us. Even in Jewish podcasts I've been listening to, the hosts and guests would sometimes share laughter while discussing current events. How can we be laughing when the ongoing challenges we're facing since October 7th seem to grow darker with each passing month?
There are four distinct types of laughter that seem to encapsulate our experiences in these tumultuous months. There's the nervous laughter, a response born out of distress or discomfort, where humor becomes a coping mechanism amidst growing uncertainty. Then there's the incredulous laughter, arising from disbelief in the face of surreal or bizarre circumstances. We also encounter bemused laughter, a blend of amusement and confusion that accompanies discussions about our daunting reality. And finally, there's ironical laughter, tinged with irony or sarcasm as we grapple with the unusual challenges that have unfolded since October 7th.
Yael's essay delves into the ancient wisdom of the Purim story. She argues that the Tanakh (i.e., the Hebrew Bible), despite its serious and weighty themes, incorporates scatological humor to disarm our fears and render our adversaries smaller and less menacing. It's a fascinating notion—that laughter can be an antidote to paralyzing fear, providing us with an alternative way to confront adversity.
By the way, I had to look up the word "scatological," which refers to content related to or characterized by references to excrement or bodily functions, often in a humorous or irreverent manner.
Before reading Yael's work, I felt confused about finding humor amidst such serious times because there is nothing funny about this moment. However, her perspective resonated deeply with me, highlighting that humor is an essential part of a healthy response, offering a counterbalance to the anger and fear that can otherwise overwhelm us.
I wanted to share this with you because I know we've both been navigating these challenging times in our own ways. Yael's insights helped me see humor as a form of resilience—a way to cope and connect amidst uncertainty. I reached out to Yael, shared how much her essay affected me, and asked for permission to share it with you. She agreed!
Yael Leibowitz Yael Leibowitz has her Master’s degree in Judaic Studies from Columbia University. Prior to making Aliyah, Yael taught Tanakh at the Upper School of Ramaz, and then went on to join the Judaic Studies faculty at Yeshiva University’s Stern College for Women where she taught advanced Bible courses. She has taught Continuing Education courses at Drisha Institute for Jewish Education and served as Resident Scholar at the Jewish Center of Manhattan. She is currently teaching at Matan Women’s Institute for Torah Learning and is a frequent lecturer in North America and Europe. Yael has a book forthcoming on Ezra-Nehemiah through Koren Press, in collaboration with the Matan Kitvuni fellowship. For more of Yael’s writing visit: yaelleibowitz.com
I hope you find her essay as helpful and interesting as I do.
HUMOR AND OUR COLLECTIVE HEALING:
This was the integral part of our inner, mental struggle for our human identity, the fact that we could still laugh at things…Humor was an integral part of our spiritual resistance. And this spiritual resistance was the pre-condition for a desire to live (Felicja Karay, Holocaust Survivor).
Eglon, the king of Moav, terrorized Israel for years. He was fierce, scary, and he created an alliance with Israel’s worst enemies. But then one day, Eglon met his demise while using the restroom. A left-handed Israelite named Ehud outwitted the corpulent king and, as the Tanakh describes, the dead king lingered in his own bowels and cellulite for hours before his guards even realized what had happened. I dare you not to laugh. I assure you, the ancient Israelites did. They also laughed when they read that the Philistines, after stealing the Ark of the Covenant and provoking terrifying questions about God’s continued presence among His people, came down with an intolerable case of hemorrhoids. And they laughed when their zealous prophet Eliyahu suggested that the prophets of Baal scream louder for perhaps their god couldn’t hear them if he was daydreaming or tending to his bodily needs.
Tanakh is littered with sad and scary moments - moments when we feared our enemies’ potential, and even at times, our loss of self. Those moments are taken seriously by the Tanakh, because as we know, Tanakh is a serious work. And that is also precisely why, in those very moments, the Tanakh makes us laugh. It uses scatological humor to demean those we feared; to make them small, despicable and, by extension, less scary. And in doing so, the Tanakh teaches us that there is an alternative to paralyzing fear, and that alternative is laughter.
Avigail knew this truth, which is why, as her entire household was about to be killed by David’s militia because of her husband’s insolence, she looked David square in the eyes and said of her husband Naval, “what do you expect, his name means boor, and a boor he is.” A sly smile must have crept across her lips in that moment, as David’s fury dissipated, and humor saved her estate. A shared, wry pun, Avigail knew, is the surest way to bridge the gap between two people. And, the Tanakh teaches us, laughter bridges something else as well.
Both Avraham and Sarah laughed when God told them they were going to have a child, because in their moments of prophecy, the chasm between their yearnings and their reality was just too vast. The incongruity between their hopes and their pain was overwhelming. So, they laughed, because sometimes laughter is the only thing that can fill the space between dreams and despair. Sometimes, it is the only way to react to the disparity between what we want from life and what life has offered. God called Sarah out on her laughter, and at first she denied it, worried that perhaps it signaled skepticism. But God did not criticize her, nor did He punish her, He simply acknowledged it. And then, He gave her a child, who was not coincidentally named for the joyous laughter generated by his birth. The ability to laugh, God taught the first two believers, does not signify a lack of faith, it signifies the resolve to hold on to faith when logic and reason are telling you to let go. By laughing at the way things are, we implicitly insist that they should be different, and it is that insistence that enables us to go on.
Megillat Esther was written by Jews who thought they were safe in the Diaspora, but the
sporadic rise of those who hate us left them confused, and with their previous conceptions unhinged. It made them doubt the institutions they thought they could trust and worry about their children’s future. So, they made a choice to resist the devastating psychological effects of near genocide by laughing. And they charged us to do the same. One day a year, the Megillah tells us, rather than feeling helpless and frustrated, laugh at the absurdity of it all. One day a year, laugh at the repetitive nature of our history and at the perennial desire of our enemies to wipe us out. Once a year, read from a comic scroll that depicts a buffoon of a king incapable of making independent decisions, an evil villain who ends up hanging from his own gallows, eunuchs who save the day, and an objectified woman in a misogynistic court who ends up, effectively, ruling the empire – and laugh! Not because you think men like Haman will not rise again; You know they will. Laugh to protest that evil, to tell it that no matter what it tries to do to us, we will never let go of the conviction that things should be different.
Megillat Esther, like the book of Iyov, tries to make sense of the unpredictability of our world. Like the book of Iyov, the Megillah wrestles with the harsh truth that our happiness is not automatically guaranteed. But Megillat Esther offers us an alternative way to integrate life’s tragic moments. Get together and laugh, she says. It won’t make the pain go away, but it can exist alongside it. And when you laugh with those who know your pain, then you will be able, for just the briefest of moments, to take their hands and step beyond it. And when you do, you will remember that there is a part of yourself, and a set of beliefs, that you refuse to abandon.
Yael Leibowitz's essay on humor in challenging times offers a profound perspective on the power of laughter as a form of resilience and spiritual resistance. As we navigate the complexities of our world today, where uncertainty and adversity seem to prevail, humor becomes a vital tool—a way to cope, connect, and maintain our sense of hope.
Laughter, as Yael beautifully illustrates, can be more than just amusement; it can be an assertion of our humanity, our resilience, and our refusal to be overcome by fear or despair.
Please feel free to respond with your thoughts, anecdotes, or observations. Your engagement enriches our conversation and strengthens our community.
Am Yisrael Chai
Kenden
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About Matan
Matan has been a pioneering force in Torah education for women since its inception in 1988. Starting as a small gathering around a dining room table led by Rabbanit Malke Bina, Matan has evolved into a dynamic institute offering intensive Beit Midrash programs and diverse learning opportunities for women of all backgrounds and ages. We inspire women across generations through innovative and transformative Jewish study.
Matan is reshaping the discourse on women and Judaism in Israel, equipping our students with the knowledge, tools, and confidence to become teachers, spiritual leaders, role models, and catalysts for change in Jewish communities throughout the country.