There’s no question that Purim is Judaism’s most raucous, irreverent holiday. What with the costumes, ever more outlandish as years go by; the late-night partying with all too much alcoholic propellant (note to excessive imbibers:
The rabbis clearly favor health and safety over drunken stupor, in spite of the classic “cursed Haman and blessed Mordechai” test); and the inducement of kids of all ages to yell at the very mention of the villain’s name, Purim breaks the mold of prayer-heavy, somber, introspective festivals.
But behind the mask, Purim sends some amazingly powerful messages that are as relevant today as they were 2,200 years ago in Persia, when and where the story took place. I share some of them with you.
The power of prayer. As the situation in Shushan becomes ever more foreboding, the community turns to what is perhaps Judaism’s greatest weapon: prayer.
Upon hearing of the impending “aktion,” Mordechai takes to publicly wearing sackcloth and ashes, clothes that are designed to evoke divine mercy. At Esther’s behest, he gathers the Jews and leads them in communal prayer, focusing specifically on the children, whose pure, young voices chant the verse which until today is the “last word” in the morning service: “Plot your plan, yet it shall fail; say what you choose, yet you shall not prevail.”
Esther, for her part, engages in an unparalleled, drastic three-day fast – fasting itself being a form of prayer – that even includes the first day of Passover, thus preventing her from adhering to Passover’s rituals. The power of speech, say the rabbis, is our most potent weapon.
Esther is clearly the heroine of the story
The power of women. The handbook of Purim is the Megillah of Esther, not Mordechai. She is clearly the heroine of the story, not only for her part in the drama but also for her diligent efforts to have the book eternally canonized in the biblical library.
Esther begins as a helpless prisoner of the state; just as the evil Vashti is summarily removed, so Esther is forcibly plucked from her home and entered into salacious Ahasuerus’s beauty pageant.
Esther is still the submissive maiden when Mordechai (either her uncle, husband, or both, per the rabbis) compels her to plead for her people – at the risk of her life – in his famous “Who knows if you were not placed in your position of queen in order to save us” speech (4:14).
But from that point on, it is Esther who takes control and directs the sequence of events. She commands Mordechai to rouse the community. She not only bravely approaches Ahasuerus; she calls for not one but two parties with Haman and the king, so as to brilliantly outmaneuver Haman and foil his designs. And she, not Mordechai, institutes the plan by which the Jews of Persia are permitted to organize an army and defend themselves.
The power of unity. Haman, for all his depravity, had it right when he told Ahasuerus, “There is a certain people, scattered and disunited” (3:8). Indeed, the megillah opens as Ahasuerus holds a garish, six-month party/orgy to which he invites the Jews of Shushan. Not only is the banquet obscene and ostentatious, but Ahasuerus “turns the knife” by using utensils from the Temple that have been handed down from the Babylonians. Mordechai pleads with his people not to attend, but most refuse to heed him. This convinces Mordechai that their actions have caused God to “hide His face” in shame and anger – “hester panim” in Hebrew – resulting in the subsequent danger they will face.
But ultimately, the Jews of Shushan do unite. They come together, first, in prayer – men, women, and children. And then – in an event unprecedented in the annals of Diaspora Jewry – they mobilize a militia and come forward, as one, in order not only to defeat the forces assembled against them but to massively annihilate them.
Here, I must say that even while I deplore the refusal of most of Israel’s haredi community to defend the land, at the same time I marvel at US President Donald Trump’s freeing of Israel’s hand, allowing us to inflict widespread damage on the Hamas terrorists.
As I have written before, when they learn of Haman’s plot, the Jews of Shushan are described as “navocha,” depressed, hopeless nebechs. But when they triumph, the megillah says Shushan was “tzahala v’sameha,” cheerful and happy. “Tzahala” as in Zahal, the IDF; a people with an army as courageous as ours truly can celebrate, knowing we’ll never again be nebechs.
The power of providence. The name of God does not appear explicitly in the megillah (though many of the 184 mentions of “king” may very well refer to God).
Any number of reasons are given for this, but I suggest the essential reason is that God is everywhere in this saga, and so mentioning God’s name in specific instances would only be limiting. The propensity of “coincidences” that fill the story are far too numerous to be just matters of chance.
Vashti “just happens” to insult the king, and so is removed, allowing Esther to enter the scene. Ahasuerus “just happens” to forget that Mordechai once saved his life, recalling it only at the most opportune time. Haman “just happens” to build the very gallows upon which he is hanged. Purim – sardonically called “lots” – implies that life is a lottery, while assuring us that it isn’t. But it’s up to us to seek out the godliness that surrounds us; only then do we internalize the truth that we are never alone.
The power of Israel. The Talmud questions why Megillat Esther rates being included in the books of Tanach, let alone being read publicly twice each year (the only one of the Five Megillot to be read both evening and day). Firstly, there have been many “Purims” when Jewish communities were miraculously saved, such as in Saragossa, Tripoli, and Yemen. More importantly, the Talmud remarks that once we entered Israel, only events occurring there could be recorded for eternity. Why, then, is Purim the exception?
Commentators answer that the entire backdrop of the Purim story revolves around our return to Israel. The prophets predicted that the Babylonian exile would last 70 years. Cyrus, a benevolent friend of the Jews, had given the exiled Jews permission to begin rebuilding the Temple, but that permission was revoked by Vashti – the granddaughter of Nebuchadnezzar, who had destroyed the Temple. It would only be reinstated by Darius II, son of Esther and Ahasuerus, who ascended the throne when Ahasuerus died.
It is on this basis that the rabbis made an exception and eventually allowed Purim and the megillah to achieve the stature they hold.
The message here is clear: All of Jewish history points to the centrality of the Land of Israel to the Jewish people, and the return of the Jewish people to Israel.
That miraculous moment is at hand, right here, right now, and it is only in that context that we can thankfully recite the megillah’s famous proclamation: The Jewish people had light, gladness, joy, and honor.
The writer is director of the Jewish Outreach Center of Ra’anana.
rabbistewart@gmail.com