According to Sefer Yetzirah, the Hebrew letter for the month of Adar is the letter Kuf, one of two letters in the Alef Beit that is made of two separate components (the other is the letter Heh-the letter of the next month, Nissan). At the beginning of the month we explored the connection of the letter Kuf with the Jews acceptance of the Torah at the time of
Purim, the words in the Megillah are, Kiymu VeKiblu, both words whose roots begin with Kuf.

The spiritual Sense of the month of Adar is the Sense of Humor. Since the Hebrew word for laughter also ends with a Kuf, Tzchok (Tzadi-Chet-Kuf) we wanted to explore further the meaning of the Kuf as it finds expression in humor. Perhaps then, we can get a glimpse at
G-d's sense of humor. We will explore the progression from Kuf to Chet-Kuf (Chok) to Tzadi-Chet-Kuf (Tzchok) and finally to Yud-Tzadi-Chet-Kuf (Yitzchak).

Kuf

We mentioned that the letter Kuf is one of two letters that is made of two separate parts. It is also the only letter (other than the final letters) that extends below the other letters. A teaching regarding these qualities of the Kuf is that they represent "descending to redeem
fallen sparks." Although each of the Hebrew letters represent some sort of paradox, the paradox of the Kuf is one of the most profound. The Kuf is associated with the word Kadosh (Kuf-Dalet-Shin), holy, which literally means to set apart or to distinguish by setting apart. It is ironic, then, that the ultimate purpose of making things holy, or Kadosh, by setting them apart, is to ultimately unify them. For instance, the Jewish people are supposed to be a "Goy Kadosh," a holy nation that is set apart from others. Yet, our ultimate mission, as represented in prophecies of Messianic times, is to unify the world in universal recognition of G-d. The paradox is that we are supposed to do this by setting ourselves apart and following the mitzvot, ones that appear logical and have a rationale that people could easily appreciate,
as well as ones that are beyond our rational understanding. The mitzvot that are logical do not necessarily distinguish us from other people's codes of law and conduct. The mitzvot that are beyond our intellectual capacity to grasp are called, Chok (Chet-Kuf), and our observance of
them does set us apart. The Rabbis teach, that it is the Chok that people of other faiths "laugh at", as to them these laws seem absurd.

Chok (Chet-Kuf)

A Chok, which is an immutable law or statute, cannot be penetrated logically. Like the Kuf itself, the Chok is also paradoxical. During the month of Adar we read, for one of the special Shabbat Torah readings, the Chok of the Parah Adumah (the Red Heifer).This Chok is the command to use the ashes of the Red Heifer to purify someone who has come into contact with a corpse and is Tameh (ritually impure). The procedure renders the impure pure, but causes the one who prepared the purifying mixture to become impure! The logic of this law is beyond us. In fact, King Solomon, wisest of all men, declared that the Chok of the Parah Adumah was "far from him," (interesting to note that the word in Hebrew meaning far, is Rachok (Reish-Chet-Kuf), which contains the word Chok!) The Chok of the Red Heifer is an ideal example of the ultimate paradox of life and death, pure and impure. While the nations of the
world may choose to laugh in ridicule at the Chok, it is clear to us, that our sense of what underlies humor is an appreciation of paradox rather than a rejection of it.

Tzchok (Tzadi-Chet-Kuf)

What makes us laugh? Rabbi Joseph Telushkin, in his book entitled Jewish Humor says that good humor reveals truth, exposes anxieties, is self-critical, and acknowledges the paradoxical in our lives. We laugh when we appreciate this. Perhaps this is why having a good sense of humor is a spiritual quality. We need to be able to accept truths, our anxieties, our short-comings, and the paradoxes that life is filled with. The following joke (one of many in Telushkin's book) illustrates one paradox of our lives as Jews: "A group of elderly, retired men gathers each morning at a cafe in Tel Aviv. They drink their coffee and sit for hours discussing the world situation. Given the state of the world, their talks usually are depressing. One day, one of the men startles the others by announcing, 'You know what? From now on, I am going to be an optimist!' The others are shocked, but then one of them notices something fishy. 'Wait a minute! If you're an optimist, why do you look so worried?' 'What! You think it's easy to be an optimist?!!'

Telushkin comments: "The 'distressed optimist' strikes the right chord in much Jewish humor. By insisting that the world is moving toward perfection, and that the Messianic days lie in the future, Judaism encourages Jews to be optimists. But Jewish history ... impels Jews to pessimism. Hence, as Jews, we are optimists -- with worried looks on our faces."

The antidote then to pessimism is laughter because we can recognize that life is paradoxical! We might think that the Chok alone is paradoxical. The ultimate "joke" is that all of life is paradoxical, and therefore the word for laughter, Tzchok, contains the paradoxical Chok.

Addendum:

G-d gives us an embodiment of what Kuf, Chok and Tzchok mean in personally naming our Patriarch Yitzchak. Yitzchak's birth is a Chok, laughed at with derision at the impossibility of a hundred year old man and ninety year old woman conceiving a child. Yitzchak's life is filled with paradox, none gretaer than the paradox of the Akeidah, the binding of Yitzchak, which brings the heir of the Jewish people to the brink of death. The other major paradox of Yitzchak's life is that he fathers twin sons, Ya'acov and Eisav, who are themselves bound togehter in a paradoxical relationship. Amalek, the grandson of Eisav is that force in the world which prods the descendants of Ya'acov to fulfill their mission of being a separate, Kadosh, people. Whenever the Jewish people attempt to assimilate, to be like the other nations, Amalek is there to distinguish the Jew as set apart and then to destroy them because of their separateness. The paradox then is that Amalek is that force that reveals our true identity and compels us to acknowledge who we are. So, we find Esther revealing herself as a Jewess when faced with the Amalakite, Haman, who identifies Jews for extirmination. We are instructed to laugh on Purim when we can recognize that the paradox of our identity being revealed comes as much from the blessings of Mordechai as from the curse of Haman.