Look to the Hamantasch!

“La’kova sheli shalosh pinot (My hat has three corners)…”

It’s a song about Hamantaschen, and these Purim pastries are much more than just delicious. They capture the essence of Purim. Seinfeld’s classic line of “Look to the cookie!” is just as relevant to Purim’s signature pastry as it is to the black and white cookie. Hamantaschen provide lessons – and a taste - of history, survival, perseverance, and Jewish life.

Hamantaschen are all about the mohn.

Much to my chagrin, some people’s favorite flavor is poppy, which in Yiddish is called, “mohn.” This may be how Hamantaschen got their name. There was a 15^th century Central European pastry called “mohn taschen,” which translates as poppy pockets. Poppy may be the OG when it comes to hamantaschen flavors.

Poppy seeds may also have a historical connection to the Purim story.

Rabbi Yosef Karo and Rabbi Moshe Isserlis mention the practice of eating food made from seeds on Purim. There is a tradition that the Biblical Daniel ate seeds in the house of the king of Babylon since there was no other kosher food. Daniel is also said to be Hatach, Esther’s servant, who prepared her food. Since it had to be kosher, he relied on his experience with seeds to keep Esther fed. We eat seeds to commemorate her menu.

Hamantaschen are a good way to deliver an important message.

During the Purim story, many Jews did not believe they were going to be completely wiped out. They had grown quite comfortable in the Persian Empire. Mordechai convinced them of the seriousness of the threat by sending them numerous letters warning them of the impending doom. Afraid to send the letters by conventional routes lest their enemies intercept them, he sent the letters hidden inside pastries. In commemoration of this, we eat pastries with a filling.

Hamantaschen cookies remind us of our fight against evil enemies.

There is a Sephardic tradition to eat pastries called “oznei Haman,” Haman’s ears, which are twisted, fried dough. One of the oldest references to them is in an Italian Purim comedy skit in the 16^th century. The ears reference may be the shape or, more gruesomely, the legend that Haman’s ears were cut off before he was hanged.

The oznei Haman also invoke Haman’s ancestor, our arch-enemy Amalek. While all other nations heard about the Jews’ exodus from Egypt and were impressed and afraid, Amalek were not impressed, and they attacked Bnei Yisrael. We can add eating Hamantaschen to the ways to remember and battle against Amalek and the forces of evil. In fact, some explains that the name “Hamantaschen” is really a combination of two Hebrew words: “Haman” and “tasch,” which means to weaken. We eat Hamantaschen to remember how Haman was weakened and to fortify ourselves for the battle to weaken the forces of evil.

The shape of Hamantaschen is also part of this symbolism. They specifically have three corners invoking Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. The Midrash says that when Haman realized the Jews had the merit of the patriarchs on their side, his resolve immediately weakened. Our Hamantaschen must have three corners as they were “Haman weakeners (taschen).”

Maybe the true lesson is in the yummy filling (even if it’s poppy).

The Purim story is a hidden miracle. In earlier times, our ancestors were accustomed to experiencing open miracles. Nowadays, we don’t experience openly revealed miracles anymore. On Purim, we need to reveal that which is hidden. The words “Megillat Esther” literally mean to reveal that which is hidden. Similarly, the filling is covered by the pastry and needs to be uncovered.

Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski noted that what makes Purim unique is that there was nothing supernatural about it. Everything seemed to unfold in an ordinary fashion, yet God was quite active behind the scenes to bring about the salvation of the Jews. The Purim narrative includes a drunken king, a refusal by the queen earning her a death sentence, a Jewish beauty becoming the next queen, a villain, a hero, a couple of parties, a hanging, and a victory. Hardly the stuff of miracles! In reality, though, we can find God pulling the strings behind the scenes.

The truth about Hamantaschen is that we can find our own messages of Purim in them.

Rebbetzin Chana Schneerson, the mother of the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, writes in her memoirs about her time spent in Soviet exile with her husband for the crime of spreading Judaism. It was at times impossible to get anything special for Shabbat, including bread and candles. One time, she got hold of flour and set it aside in order to bake Hamantaschen for Purim. She wrote:

“The festival of Purim arrived. We had a Megillat Esther, which I had once included in a food package I had sent my husband. For Purim, we were visited by two evacuees, a young Jewish man, inclined towards Communism, and his female neighbor, an engineer who had once studied Yiddish and was interested in Judaism.

Some time before, I had set aside some white flour, with which I baked two Hamantaschen. Although it’s a minor custom, it played an important role in our lives, reminding us that we were still human and still Jews, and that not every day was the same. We were reminded that we could be concerned with loftier concepts - not just with thinking about our daily bread, and drawing the pail of water from the well and hauling it through the mud, always spilling some and making the already swampy ground even muddier.”

A cookie can be much more than a cookie. For Rebbetzin Schneerson, Hamantaschen were a luxury item that provided a little Purim warmth in a cold place and that being different is a privilege. What do Hamantaschen mean for us?

Eating Hamantaschen incorporates history, tradition, symbolism, and even some mysticism. They are what we make of them, and that’s what Purim is all about. So whichever flavor you enjoy (even the accursed poppy seed), let’s nosh some Hamantaschen thinking about the traditional delicacies of our ancestors, Jewish survival over our enemies, and the sweetness and holiness that can be found in everyday life.

Look to the cookie - er Hamantasch! Happy Purim! L’Chaim!