Generally, our minhagim deal with simanim—signs that indicate good mazal rather than bad fortune. They deal with eating or not eating specific foods. For example, on Shavuos we eat milchigs; Chanukah, latkes; Rosh Hashanah, honey. We don’t eat nuts or chrein during the YamimNora’im. Our other minhagim deal with special tefillos at special places: Kapparos with chicken or money, Tashlich by the water.

But dressing up? Where did this come from?

The first mention of the notion of Jews dressing up in costume seems to be in the responsa of one of our poskim from Italy, Rav Yehudah Mintz (responsum #17). Rav Mintz lived in the late 1400s and was niftar in Venice in 1508. The teshuvah says that there is no prohibition involved in dressing up on Purim—even in dressing like a woman—since the reason is for simcha and not for the purpose of immorality, to violate Torah law. The Rema quotes the p’sak in Shulchan Aruch (O.C. 696:8).

Moritz Steinschneider (1816–1907), the great bibliographer whose impact and opinions are still felt today, brilliant though he was, cannot fathom that the minhag developed independently. He attributes the development of the minhag to the direct influence of the Roman Carnival. Carnival is a festive season that occurs immediately before the Catholic season of Lent. The Roman Carnival involved a public celebration and parade that combined elements of a circus, the wearing of masks, and public street partying. People would dress up in masquerade during these celebrations. Carnival is a festival traditionally held in Roman Catholic and, to a lesser extent, Eastern Orthodox societies. It originated in Italy and was held in February.

But our minhag did not come from Roman Carnival. It is not that we believe that cultural diffusion does not exist; we do. But its application must be tempered with rational precision and reason. We must always display a cautious intellectual approach. Scholars who know what Klal Yisrael is actually all about, know that this particular type of cultural diffusion is about as likely as eggnog consumption and Christmas caroling affecting the behavior of yeshiva boys on a Purim.

It simply would not have happened. End of story. The apperception of the Roman Carnival in Torah circles was beyond the pale of acceptable activity even to mimic. This cannot be the source—especially so close to the time of Rav Yehudah Mintz, who sanctioned its use.

No, we must look for other sources in order to find truth. Steinschneider’s theory is just too pat. We must also bear in mind that silence in the sefarim and responsa literature does not necessarily indicate absence in normative Jewish practice. A minhag could exist and yet not be mentioned in the sefarim or teshuvos until much later.

The Apter Rebbe, Rav Avrohom Yehoshua Heschel, was known as the Ohev Yisrael. He writes (Ohev Yisrael, Sh’mos section on Parashas Zachor) that one of the reasons why we dress up in masquerade on Purim is to show that the miracle of Purim came from something that actually would have initially caused us much grief. This, says the Apter Rebbe, stresses that the greatest joy lies in the knowledge that the opposite result might very well have happened. A good theory, but one that sounds more likely to be a post-development rationalization than the original cause of the minhag.

Rav Yitzchak Weiss, zt’l, author of the Siach Yitzchak and student of the Shevet Sofer, explains (siman 380) that the origin of the custom to dress up in masks is to highlight the fact that Haman hid his hate for the Jewish people when approaching Achashverosh for permission to destroy Klal Yisrael. Hashem responded middah k’neged middah—measure for measure—by sending Eliyahu, disguised as Charvonah. Eliyahu, too, was hiding his real intent—to defend the Jewish people. Here, the idea of hiding and masks as a central theme of Purim seems likely. It may very well have been the idea that spurred the minhag in Klal Yisrael of wearing masks.

The Bnei Yissaschar (on Adar 9:1) cites a Maharam Chagiz, who quotes the Gemara in Megillah (12a). The Gemara explains that the Jewish people only did things “lifnim,” hidden, so Hashem also only did things “lifnim.”

The theme of hiding and its association with Purim, therefore, is found explicitly in the Gemara. Could it have developed just then? Perhaps, but it is hard to imagine that it developed back then and no mention of this custom was made from 500 CE until the late 1400s.

The mystery continues.

However, Tosfos, in Tractate Rosh Hashanah (3a) deal with a fascinating episode in ParashasChukas (Bamidbar 21:1). The Canaani in the Negev (the south) hear that Klal Yisrael has arrived and go to do battle with them. Rashi identifies the incongruity. The Negev? Why, that is Amalek!

Rashi’s conclusion is that it was Amalekites who spoke in the Canaani dialect so that Klal Yisrael would pray to Hashem that the Canaanim be handed over to them and not the Amalekites!

Our Tosfos, however, add more. They write that the Amalekites changed not only their voices and dialect; they changed their clothing too. They cite the person who wrote the piyut for Parashas Zachor—ksus v’lashon shineh—clothing and language he (or they) did change!

So here is the theory, then.

It is France and Germany, not Italy. The paytan for ParashasZachor has written that they changed their clothing—referring to the Amalekites. Jews see it. ParashasZachor is close to Purim—very close. Some regular people read the piyut. They may think, perhaps, that it refers to Jews. The scholars among them realize that it refers to Amalekites, but Haman is from Amalek anyway.

On Purim we are marbeh b’simcha. It is in the piyut. They begin to dress up, like Haman. The minhag catches on. The talmidei chachamim of Germany accept it.

Soon the practice travels to Italy. Steinschneider cannot resist and attributes it to the Roman Carnival. But he errs. It is much more likely that it came from the piyut for ParashasZachor. The origin is a kosher minhag b’Yisrael from German Jewry.

And now we go back to the Apter Rav—the OhevYisrael. He writes that one of the reasons why we dress in masquerade on Purim is to show that the miracle of Purim came from something that actually would have initially caused us much grief. This, says the Apter Rebbe, stresses that the greatest joy lies in the knowledge that the opposite result might very well have happened. It is a minhag that brings us ever closer to the true d’veikus Bashem and simcha that are at the heart of what Purim is all about.

Let us, with this in mind, remember the words of the Nesivos Shalom regarding drinking on Purim. He writes that the word “wine” is absent in the formulation of the Shulchan Aruch. “Chayav adam libsumei bePurya ad de’lo yada.”

The reason is clear. We must become inebriated with the concept of Purim and not with wine. The concept of Purim is that Hashem is very close and that we can achieve remarkable d’veikus Bashem at this time. No matter how distant we are—even if we are “Arur Haman” in terms of our general distance from Hashem—we can become, at this particular time of Purim, as close as Baruch Mordechai.

The nation of Israel can achieve a remarkable degree of genuine d’veikus Bashem. We can do so as no other people can. When we dress up, therefore, let us appreciate the significance and the ta’amim brought down by the Apter Rav, the Bnei Yissaschar, and the Siach Yitzchak. This Purim, let us discover the talent that lies within us in this area. If we can do this, we can achieve a personal geulah as well as one for all of Klal Yisrael. Amen.

The author can be reached at Yairhoffman2@gmail.com.