A paradigm of Jewish life in exile
Purim is the most joyous of festivals, but its lessons of discrimination and possible genocide and our reaction thereto are as relevant today as when the megillah was first written.
Why is Purim so popular? Could it be because over millennia it has been seen as representing the paradigm of Jewish life in exile? What are the key features of the Purim story that create this image?
Firstly, nowhere in the megillah do we see any mention of God’s name. Unlike so many stories detailed in the Chumash, the Purim events involved no obviously miraculous or supernatural events. The players – friend and foe – were natural; the miracle of Jewish survival emerged from the confluence of events and their outcome. In our era, that is indeed a situation with which even the more sceptical among us can empathise.
Secondly, regarding the story itself, we find another element of paradigm. Even in an era of multiculturalism, those who understand history can empathise with the Jewish minority suffering discrimination and threats at the hands of the ruling authorities who cannot tolerate difference. Particularly in the post-
Holocaust era, no one is surprised when the whole machinery of government – the bureaucracy of the Persian state whose workings are described in such minute detail – is turned against the Jews. That lack of surprise remains even when we examine the story to find that prior to the threat and decree of Haman, Jews were actually accepted at the highest levels of society – they too participated in the royal celebration and feast. Jews know well that one day’s acceptance is soon followed by rejection and even persecution. It is a lesson once again brought to life in our own time and communities post October 7 and Bondi.
Perhaps there is also another aspect. Most of the Tanach refers to our people as Israel or Bnei Israel. Yet the megillah, set in the era after the first destruction and the exile of the kingdom of Judah, actually uses the now more familiar terminology, Yehudim (originally meaning those of Judah who arrived in Babylon after being exiled by Nebuchadnezzar), the term from which we derived the word Jew. We are, accordingly, more inclined to see its events as referring to ourselves rather than an ancient people. Hence, the talmudic adage that one who reads the megillah backwards – originally meaning technically reading in the wrong order, but reinterpreted to mean as referring to the past era without a lesson for the present – has not fulfilled his or her duty, having not properly grasped its significance and implications.
But from a contemporary perspective, there is also much to commend itself in the response of Persian Jewry to the fact that in the end they were saved.
We are told of two themes in this regard. Firstly, “Kiymu vekiblu haYehudim – the Jews once again accepted upon themselves” to keep the tenets of Judaism even in exile. It was indeed a reaffirmation of faith and tradition to facilitate communal continuity.
And the second response to events brought about through hatred was to institute customs emphasising friendship and mutual love. Charity is a cornerstone of the principles of Jewish life applicable all year round – but its specific tie to Purim is unique. When we mark the day when hatred almost brought catastrophe, we know that we must show that our approach to life involves kindness.The same approach underlies mishloach manot – the sending of portions of food to our friends. We do not only give charity to those in need. Despite a general halachic concern about giving undeserved presents (based on fear that social pressure might cause one to give gifts one might not otherwise want to give), on Purim one must give our fellows and associates something with which they can celebrate. For on Purim one cannot celebrate on one’s own. Every element of the day involves celebration as a community, hence again the halachah that while individuals can read or hear the megillah, “b’rov am hadrat melech”, it is better to do so as part of a large gathering because “in a larger multitude there is greater glory for God the king”.
Let me conclude however with a lesser known aspect of mishloach manot.
The aftermath of the Purim story is actually one of two occasions in our biblical history where mishloach manot features. Just a few decades later we find the Jews returning from exile led by Ezra and Nehemiah. And in the book of Nehemiah (chapter 8) we find that rebuilding the Beit Hamikdash aside, “when the seventh month arrived, Ezra the priest brought the Torah before the congregation, men and women and all who could listen with understanding”.
“Ezra opened the scroll in the sight of all the people; They read from the scroll of the Teaching of God.
“Nehemiah, Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who were explaining to the people said to all the people, ‘This day [actually Rosh Hashanah] is holy to the Lord your God: you must not mourn or weep – for all the people were weeping as they listened to the words of the Torah.’”
But the people were then told, “Go, eat choice foods and drink sweet drinks ‘veshilchu manot – and send portions’ to whoever has nothing prepared, for the day is holy to our Lord. Do not be sad, for your rejoicing in the Lord is the source of your strength. Then all the people went to eat and drink ‘v’lishloach manot – and to send portions’ [no reference now to those who lacked] and make great merriment, for they understood the things they were told.”
Perhaps the concept of mishloach manot as a mode of celebration had established itself in the national psyche of the era. And it is worth remembering that there is another similarity between the two occasions. The aftermaths of Purim and the public Torah reading by Ezra to the returned exiles that led them to weep for its abandonment they now realised was wrong. For just as in this event the exiles once again accepted the Torah, in regard to Purim too we find the expression that as they celebrated their salvation “kiymu vekiblu – they fulfilled and accepted” for all generations (Esther 9:27) the fulfilment of Torah, the abandonment of which had led to the threat of annihilation. On both occasions acceptance of principles “bein adam la Makom – between a person and God” went hand in hand with enhancing the relationships “bein adam l’chavero – between a person and his fellow”.
Dare I suggest that elements of these trends have even surfaced in recent times. How many stories have we seen regarding behaviour in post-October 7 Israel? Even aside from stories about assisting those families who suffered directly from the murderous excesses, we read of people across Israel assisting strangers, perhaps even paying for another family’s groceries, assisting with looking after children etc etc. And as for “Kiymu vekiblu” – how many post-October 7 and post-Bondi are putting on tefillin, more involved in prayer or searching out our history and faith?
Amidst the sometimes raucous celebration of Purim there is much depth with eternal implications. And as per the deeply felt wish so often repeated in a house of mourning, may we – all of Israel – know no more “tzaar” – troubles.
Shabbat shalom,
Purim sameach,
Yossi
Yossi Aron OAM is The AJN’s religious affairs editor.