“They were to observe them as days of feasting and merrymaking (y’mei mishteh v’simha) and as an occasion for sending gifts to one another and presents to the poor.”
-Esther 9:22

Other than reading and/or hearing the Megillah, every mitzvah of Purim is mentioned in this one verse. Each of them is centered on food in some way, as it is a Jewish holiday, and the verse could arguably be the basis for the joke that every Jewish holiday can be summed up by the phrase, “they tried to kill us, God saved us, let’s eat.” What the Jews of Shushan did, however, was more than just eat.

I’m no Bible scholar, but the term “mishteh” seems clearly to come from the root for “drink.” We’ll save for another post the question of whether a Jew is required to get drunk on Purim, but for now, I think it must be said that in Shushan, they got drunk. Why, then, would JPS and most other Bible translations leave out the part about drinking, at least explicitly? I know even less about the history of Bible translations than I do about the Bible, so don’t trust me too much, but I’m guessing it has something to do with contemporary attitudes toward alcohol. Jewish attitudes toward alcohol are pretty easy-going compared to Islam’s and most other religions’, but are by no means univocal.

NB: I am only giving Rabbinic sources here, as I am interested in the views of Judaism as practiced once it was called by that name.
אין שמחה אלא ביין
Ain simha ela b’yayin (Talmud Bavli Pesahim 109a, et al.)

The phrase “there is happiness only in wine” is repeated a number of times in the Talmud and Midrashim, but be aware of the Talmudic quirk wherein the Rabbis say “there is X only with Y” and then change Y around a bunch of times. Other requirements for happiness include meat (only a few words earlier in the cited sugya or section,) a place where a meal is being had, and huppah, which probably means a wedding as a whole. Why is it that three of the four are intrinsically food-oriented and the last could certainly be viewed that way, too?

אין אומרים שירה אלא על היין
Ain omrim shira ela b’yayin (Talmud Bavli Berakhot 35a)

“There is no singing of songs except on wine.”
In my opinion the art of the drinking song has been lost and should be mourned. Sure, there’s still drunken karaoke and all the frat boys shouting “livin’ on a prayer” several hours before last call, but still, songs sung best with Stein in hand, foam spilling over its sides as it is swung to and fro to the beat of an accordion, I don’t think there’s enough of that and when it is around it is parody. Still, singing makes me happy, a lot more easily than drinking does, in fact. So singing would seem to be primary and drinking only secondary. Furthermore, much of what we do in synagogue is termed singing both in common parlance and in the language of the Rabbis, the same ones who made the comment above. Did they really believe that true song could only emerge words slurred from the wet mouth of a drinker?

Let’s term those last two “positive attitudes toward drinking.” You had to know they wouldn’t all look like that. Here is arguably the most recognized view in Rabbinic literature advocating temperance:

יין גורם לזנות…

כל מקום שיש יין יש ערוה
Yayin gorem liznut… kol makom she’yesh yayin, yesh ervah (Bamidbar Rabbah ed. Vilna, 10)

“Wine causes whoring… where there is wine, there is lust/licentiousness.”
I was recently at a party hosted by a Jewish organization and there was a person everyone noticed due to, shall we say, unusual and excessive flirting and forwardness. It was rather disgusting and reflected poorly on the person, the organization, Jews, and the alcohol that was being consumed thirstily. I don’t know think I have to elaborate on it much; almost everyone has seen an example, call it “beer goggles” or whatever you want, of alcohol causing people to make poor (or later regretted) decisions about sex, sex partners and the like.

As with almost everything in life, most of us probably feel that the best course is one of moderation, what Maimonides would call “the golden mean.” Well before Maimonides, the Rabbis had this to say:

היין, רובו קשה לגוף, ומיעוטו יפה

HaYayin, rubo kasheh laguf, u’miy’uto yafeh (Masekhet Derekh Eretz, Pirkei Ben Azai 10:4)

“Wine. A lot is bad for the body, but a little is good.”

As above, there are plenty of statements, from almost every culture in the world, advocating temperance. But there has been a lot written lately on the health benefits of alcohol (or here) and of red wine, in particular. How much is a lot and how much is a little? Use your judgment, ideally before you begin drinking, to figure out what is a good amount for yourself. The general idea is to be neither a binge drinker nor a teetotaler and unlike many things in Judaism, there are few standards involved.

One view I think no one can dispute:

נכנס יין יצא סוד

Nikhnas yayin, yatzah sod (Talmud Bavli Eruvin 65a)

“Wine goes in, secrets come out.”

Is there anything we can really say about this statement from the Talmud? Well, not much we can say while sober, at least. Alcohol has a remarkable way of bringing out things we would not normally reveal. When we speak of revealing secrets, we usually mean it in a negative way, but here it can also mean something positive. How many romantic comedies feature a guy who has wanted for years to tell his unusually attractive, but engaged, best friend that he loves her? Often, in life as in art (if you can call a romantic comedy art,) a drink or two helps smooth the way for such a conversation leading occasionally (or often, in the movies) to “happily ever after.”

Finally, a view that regards inebriation as an important means to assess a person’s true character:

בשלשה דברים אדם ניכר בכוסו ובכיסו ובכעסו

Bishloshah d’varim adam nikar: B’khoso, u’v'khiso, u’v'kha’aso (Talmud Bavli Eruvin 65b)

“By three things can a person [truly] be known: by his cup, by his wallet and by his anger.”

In Hebrew it is a fun wordplay. As we learned from the last statement (only a few lines earlier in the Talmud, too,) when a person drinks, as when he is spending money or angry, something comes out. He lets down much of the filter and the guard that we all put up when going about most of the business of our lives. Losing control can sometimes be a good thing because it allows the truest self to come out. We may find that this self is someone we like or we may learn the opposite. This is an important part of choosing a business, life or other partner, but it’s also an important part of self-improvement. Most of the time, we try to change our lives by changing our actions. This is important, but we’re really only changing the mask, not who we are beneath it. If we only see the mask, we’re missing the real person. If we never see a mask at all, the person is living too dangerously. Only when we know who we are deep down inside, and are aware of the ways and reasons we so often hide it, can we hope to make true and lasting change.