Patrick Comerford
The Jewish holiday of Purim begins at sunset this evening (23 February 2024) and ends at sunset tomorrow (24 March 2024). Purim literally means ‘lots’ and is sometimes known as the Feast of Lots. This holiday commemorates the Jews being saved from persecution in the ancient Persian Empire, but also remembers the hatred and violence involved.
According to the Book of Esther, the Jewish people in Shushan were threatened by the chief minister Haman, who convinces King Ahasuerus or Xerxes to kill all Jews, because Mordecai, a Jew, had refused to bow down to Haman.
Haman casts lots to decide the date for his plan – the 13th day of Adar. But the Jews are saved by Mordecai’s niece and adopted daughter, the heroic Queen Esther. She married Ahasuerus after he banished Vashti, his first, rebellious wife. When Ahasuerus discovers that Esther is Jewish, he reverses Haman’s decree, and instead of the Jews being killed, Haman, his sons, and thousands of other Persians are killed.
Before reading the Megillah, the person who is to read says the following three blessings:
‘Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has made us holy through his commandments, and has commanded us about reading the Megillah.
‘Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who performed miracles for our ancestors in those days at this time.
‘Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has given us life, sustained us, and brought us to this time.’
As the story of Purim is read from Megillat Esther (מגילת אסתר, ‘The Scroll of Esther’), it is a custom for everyone to boo and hiss or to make a loud noise with a rattle, known as a ra’ashan (Hebrew) or grager (Yiddish), every time Haman’s name is repeated. The custom fulfils the obligation to blot out Haman’s name.
It is a mitzvah that Jewish people should eat, drink and be merry at Purim. According to the Talmud, a person is required to drink until they cannot tell the difference between ‘Cursed be Haman’ and ‘Blessed be Mordecai’ … although opinions differ as to exactly how drunk that is.
As the story of Esther is read, synagogues are crowded, the adults wearing their best Sabbath clothes, and the children, and some adults too, dressed up in colourful costumes, funny beards and playful masks. They are entertaining and rowdy occasions on Purim.
Children in particular enjoy dressing up as the characters in the Book of Esther, including King Xerxes, the banished queen Vashti, Queen Esther, her cousin Mordecai and the evil, scheming Haman. In some communities, they still burn an effigy of Haman. So for Jewish communities, Purim is like Hallowe’en, Carnival, Mardi Gras and Guy Fawkes Night … all rolled into one, and usually focussed on children.
Many celebrations of Purim this year have been toned down and muted following the attacks in Israel on the Jewish holiday of Simchat Torah over five months ago (7 October 2023), the continuing hostage crisis in Israel and Gaza, and the dreadful violence that has continued in Gaza, Israel and on the West Bank.
Many Jewish communities are reluctant to celebrate openly given these circumstances, and are equally reluctant to be seen to celebrate given the rise of public and naked antisemitism, typified by the attack on a house in Hackney earlier this week.
Plans for the first carnival-style Purim parade in Jerusalem in 42 years were modified and altered this week after an outcry from residents, relatives of hostages held in Gaza and others directly affected by the events of 7 October and the war in Gaza war.
Tel Aviv and other cities in Israel have cancelled their popular parades this year out of deference to the families of hostages, evacuees, bereaved families, parents of combat soldiers and a melancholic national mood throughout Israel.
Purim and Hanukkah are the two Jewish festivals that are not prescribed in Mosaic law. Yet, the story of Xerxes and Esther, Mordecai and Haman, is relevant not only for Jews today. It is also a reminder that there are always people who plan and plot evil on a grand scale, happy to wallow in the misery and deaths of millions, men, women and children.
At first, the story of Purim might appear sombre with its recollection of the near-annihilation. But it is also a story of bravery, courage and salvation, and it is a reminder that antisemitism has deep roots that long predate contemporary experiences.
Esther is a secret Jew, and her story encouraged secret Jews during the Inquisition in Spain and Portugal, when Saint Esther emerged as a popular figure among the conversos. Many proclaimed their hidden identity to one another by having domestic shrines to Saint Esther … an insider symbol of resistance to prejudice and persecution.
Later, the story of Purim was an abiding comfort and encouragement to European Jews in the mid-20th century.
On Esther’s request, Purim ‘should be remembered and kept throughout every generation, in every family, province, and city, and these days of Purim should never fall into disuse among the Jews, nor should the commemoration of these days cease among their descendants’ (Esther 9: 28).
It is not just a story of courage and action in the face of adversity and the triumph of good over evil; it is not only a holiday and a celebration. Purim is also a startling reminder of how easy it is to turn to feel justified in turning to vengeance, and a chilling warning to future generations that antisemitism will continue to haunt Jews people throughout time.
Esther is a rare biblical text not only because it does not mention God even once – it is a story driven by human agency. It is also unique because it is set in the Diaspora – the events take place in Persia. And it is unusual because a woman becomes the saviour of an oppressed minority, able to summon the courage to move from powerlessness to power.
Since Hamas launched its horrific massacre and hostage-taking on 7 October and Israel retaliated in a brutal, ongoing war, the story of Esther is being read by many as an agonising and troubling story in ways that it has never been read before. For many Jewish people reading the story of Esther this weekend, Haman, Hitler and Hamas are ‘all creepily entwined’, as one commentator has written.
But there is also a disturbing dimension to the story of Esther when it comes to the revenge and vengeance. Not only was Haman executed, but at the request of Esther and with the acquiescence of the king, so were his 10 sons and 500 people in the citadel.
Then Chapter 9 gives the details of a violent episode of state-sanctioned retaliation, when another 75,000 Persian ‘enemies,’ including women and children, were murdered, followed by ‘a day of feasting and gladness’ and rejoiced afterward (Esther 9: 16, 22). The story says that many Persians were so fearful of the newly militarised Jews that they professed to be Jews, too.
For centuries, rabbis and scholars have tried to question or justify this problematic spasm of violence: maybe the death toll was not 75,000; maybe women and children were not killed – even though that was explicitly permitted; maybe all this was necessary self-defence.
However, many scholars today find these rationalisations unsatisfying. Writing in the Los Angeles Times earlier this week (21 March), the Jewish writer Jane Eisner suggests that perhaps Esther 9 may be a warning of the extremes a formerly oppressed people will go to when given a opportunity to exercise political and military might and to retaliate. She says it uncomfortably echoes the Israeli assault on Gaza today, with entire families obliterated, hunger and displacement rampant, thousands of children killed and orphaned, and cities all but destroyed.
Jane Eisner is the former editor in chief of the Forward, a national Jewish news outlet. She asks searching questions this Purim:
Does one trauma justify another?
When does self-defence bleed into revenge?
How is proportionality weighed during what is today an existential crisis for Israelis and Palestinians?
The vengeance sought at Purim is committed by humans and not in God’s name. Jane Eisner says Esther 9 ‘gives voice to a malevolence in the Jewish tradition that makes me wince, spotlighting an unfortunate feature of human behaviour, inviting us even today to beseech God to pursue and destroy our enemies.’
On the other hand, the story of Esther recognise the pain and destruction visited upon enemies and becomes an important and instructive reminder of the need to temper any sense of vindication, a reminder of the need to move from vengeance to empathy.
During my return visits over the past year or two to Prague, the ghetto in Venice and the Marais in Paris, I was reminded that while Haman and Hitler planned and plotted on a grand scale, there are always people who plot and plan evil and the destruction of innocence on varying scales of intensity and application.
We would be naïve to ever underestimate the capacity of people to do evil, nor should we ever undervalue the importance of our contribution to protecting the vulnerable, the frightened and the victimised in our society today.
When we realise that we have been saved from disasters or from our enemies, when sorrow has been turned into gladness and mourning into a holiday, we should not only feast and celebrate among ourselves but also mark these as ‘days for sending gifts of food to one another and presents to the poor’ (Esther 9: 22), and remember all who suffer the consequences.
