Purim is a unique and confusing chag in several aspects. First, why is a joyous holiday named after such a dangerous and scary event like the lots Haman cast rather than a reference to the Jews’ ultimate victory? By the end of the story, the casting of lots isn’t even a central element of the story. Another strikingly unique element of Purim is its communal and carnival-like, unserious atmosphere, in contrast to most chagim, which tend to include requirements one can fulfill, if necessary, individually, and mix elements of solemnity and simcha.
Making the jubilant atmosphere more jarring is Purim openly celebrates that the Jews were able to successfully defend themselves—and kill hundreds and hundreds of people. Why does this celebration of killing our enemies stand in marked contrast to how we refrain from rejoicing over the downfall of our enemies on Chanukah (with focusing on the rededication of the Temple) and Pesach (where we only recite half hallel on the last six days of the holiday out of respect for the Egyptians who perished in the Sea of Reeds)?
The story in the Megilla takes place at the same time as the events of the books of Ezra and Nechemya. It is clear from those books that the Purim story takes place after Cyrus had already allowed the Jews to return to Israel and rebuild, and after an intervening order from the next king Artachshashta to stop based on a report that the Jews were sneaky and potentially planning a rebellion.
The galus was reified. And the Jews, instead of making a united front and agitating for reinstatement of the permission, separated and began conciliating with the government. Haman describes the Jews as “mefozar umforad”—an aimless scatting of individuals. Many Jews also attend Achashverosh’s seudah, despite the debauchery and his specific usage of the keilim of the Beis Hamikdash in an apparent public rebuke of the Jewish drive to rebuild the Beis Hamikdash. Hashem is hidden in the Purim story because He is an afterthought to the Jews.
Mordechai and Esther initially kept this playbook of conciliating at all costs. The Megilla repeatedly mentions that Esther did not reveal her religious background. In addition, the Me’am Loez writes that Mordechai’s sitting at the king’s gate meant that he resigned from his position with the Sanhedrin. He became involved with the government instead in order to thwart any possible anti-Jewish decrees, and the rabbis criticized this decision. At worst, Esther may have thought that the king would reject her as unsuitable to him if he learned she was Jewish—which, seemingly, would be a great result religiously. Some commentators explain that, indeed, she and Mordechai saw Esther marrying the king as a potential bulwark against anti-Jewish sentiment.
Because Esther now lives in the palace, Mordechai now sits at the king’s gate. Only because he sits at the gate, he encounters Haman and refuses to bow down to him. It is because of that encounter that Haman becomes enraged and makes the request of Achashverosh to have the Jews killed. Mordechai’s careful government relations backfires disastrously and is now thrown in his face as the potential impetus for a horrible pogrom.
The reversal of the decree requires a reversal of attitude. The Jewish people unite not in lobbying but in a three-day fast. Then Esther, instead of looking to conciliate, rebels. She goes into the king without him asking, which was an act potentially worth of death. And of course, instead of death, the king is incredibly pleased and offers Esther anything she wants, ultimately leading to Haman’s downfall.
What occurs next is even more shocking. While the king hangs Haman, he does not rescind the decree for everyone to kill the Jews on the day appointed by Haman. The excuse that decrees of Persian kings cannot be decreed is just an excuse; Achashverosh is the king and can do what he wants. In addition, he does not even order the military to support the Jews. They unify again, fast and pray, this time not for a reception from Achashverosh but for salvation from the ultimate King, Hashem.
What occurs after the Purim story is also important and revealing. In Ezra 5, based on the nevuah of Chaggai and Zechariah, the Jews decide to continue the rebuilding despite the ban from Artachshashta. When their enemies complain again, the Jews simply ignore them and keep going—the final fulfillment of the newfound emunah-confidence that the Jews had acquired on Purim.
We can now start to understand the general message of Purim and approach our original questions. Purim tells us to avoid the serious voice of reason that one should obtain results from the secular government instead of trusting in Hashem and Jewish unity. This theme is expressed by the unserious, carnival-like atmosphere. We cannot mourn for the non-Jewish dead on Purim because that would fundamentally contradict this message of avoiding conciliation. Finally, this theme is expressed in the name Purim, or lots. Lots are random, illogical decisions for which one can exercise no skill or thought in obtaining. One cannot help but notice the potential connection to the second-most-famous lots used in Tanach: the ones cast to divide up the Land of Israel. Entering Israel was also a battle of forcing the Jews to believe in their peoplehood and in Hashem.
Anti-Semitism is on the rise again. But I believe our priority should be on increasing our unity with our Jewish brethren and increasing our emunah in Hashem, rather than lobbying for funding from the government. I hear from too many Orthodox individuals that they feel closer to evangelical Christians than non-Orthodox Jews, based largely on secular political affiliations. Is that not mefozar umforad? Moreover, I hear too often that the Orthodox communal affairs must be done in such a way because “that is the way of the world.” The world is big. The world is volunteers lifting people out of poverty and Harvey Weinstein. Let us be confident in Hashem and in our Torah.
Rabbi Felsenthal is an attorney working in the financial sector.
