Purim 5785-2025
A Sister Who Wouldn’t
One of the puzzling aspects of the Purim story is Esther’s decision to invite Haman—the arch-enemy of the Jews—to a banquet with King Achashverosh. Ostensibly, she did this to plead with the king to rescind the decree against the Jews, but why invite the very person responsible for their impending destruction?
The Talmud (Megillah 15b) provides insight: Esther feared that with a Jewish queen in the palace, her people might become complacent, assuming their troubles were over and ceasing to pray for divine intervention. After all, they reasoned, we have a (Jewish) sister in the palace. But why would they think this, given Esther’s precarious position? She had been taken against her will, feared for her life, and even fasted before approaching the king. She wasn’t a trusted confidante with the ability to sway his mind. How could anyone believe she alone could save them?
Esther understood a fundamental truth about human nature. Even a small sense of security can lead people to relax their vigilance. Though powerless, her presence in the palace was enough for some to let down their guard. To counteract this, she risked her reputation by appearing to conspire with Haman, forcing the Jews to realize that their survival depended solely on G-d. There was no natural way out of their impending genocide—they had to turn to prayer with complete sincerity.
The Turning Point
How effective was Esther’s strategy? The miracle began that very night. The king, unable to sleep, had the royal chronicles read to him. He was reminded that Mordechai had once saved his life and, as a result, ordered Haman to parade Mordechai through the city in royal attire. This marked the beginning of the end for Haman and the decree against the Jews. The story underscores how true, heartfelt prayer can change the course of history.
Why Wait to Pray?
It is unfortunate that many people only pray when they hit rock bottom—whether facing a medical crisis, war, or personal hardship. But why wait? We all place our trust in something—be it our own abilities, education, government, or ideology. Yet history has shown that none of these are foolproof. For generations, American Jews felt secure, but events like the Pittsburgh attack shook that confidence. After the Six-Day War, many trusted Israel’s military strength, but the Yom Kippur War, the Intifada, and the recent horrors of October 7 shattered that illusion. While we seek allies and advocates, we must recognize that our ultimate protection comes from G-d.
If this sounds overly religious, how else can one explain Jewish survival? We have outlasted history’s greatest empires—Babylon, Greece, Rome, Communist Russia, Nazi Germany—all of which sought to annihilate us. The odds were always against us, yet we endured. No rational explanation suffices.
Purim’s Deeper Message
Purim is not just about costumes, hamantaschen, and feasting—it’s about recognizing why we celebrate. As we say on Passover: In every generation, they rise against us to destroy us, but the Almighty saves us from their hands. Esther feared that her generation would forget this message, even though they recited it yearly at the Seder. She understood that salvation does not come from political positioning or palace intrigue—it comes from G-d.
This Purim, let’s rejoice with authentic joy, rooted in the knowledge that Am Yisrael Chai—the Jewish people live on because G-d has chosen us to be a light unto the nations. The more we embrace this mission, the brighter our future will be.
Purim Sameach – Have a Wonderful and Happy Purim!
(Sources: Megillah 12a; Esther 1:8; Chidushei HaLev by Rav Henoch Leibowitz, Esther 5:8; Jeremiah 36; Daniel 9:1-3; Jeremiah 25, 29.)
Rabbi O’s Weekly Parsha: Ki Tisa (Exodus 30:11–34:35)
Intoxicated or Pain-Related?
This week, we read about the tragic incident of the Golden Calf. As Moses descended with the tablets, he encountered Joshua, who had heard the people’s uproar. Joshua assumed it was the sound of battle: Moses said, “It is not the sound of victory, nor the sound of defeat; I hear a sound of distress.” (Ex. 32:17–18)
The Jerusalem Talmud notes that when Moses heard Joshua’s mistaken assessment, he challenged his leadership abilities: If Joshua could not distinguish between a battle cry and a cry of distress, how could he lead the Jewish people in the future? At first glance, this critique seems harsh—what does leadership have to do with recognizing different sounds?
Understanding the Uproar
Joshua wasn’t simply confused; he believed the noise was the sound of reckless partying and rebellion. He assumed the people, newly freed from Egypt, were celebrating their independence by rejecting G-d’s authority—similar to a college freshman reveling in his or her newfound freedom.
But Moses heard something different. The people weren’t rebelling out of arrogance; they were crying out from a place of despair. Their leader had seemingly abandoned them, leaving them lost in the wilderness. Their intoxication was not joy but an attempt to numb their pain. Like a person drowning their sorrows after heartbreak, they sought to forget their suffering.
A Lesson in Leadership
Moses’ rebuke to Joshua wasn’t just about noise—it was about leadership. A true leader must distinguish between defiance and distress. People who appear rebellious may actually be broken and in need of guidance, not condemnation. A leader must see beyond actions to understand the emotions driving them.
Each of us plays a leadership role in our own lives. We encounter difficult people—spouses, children, friends, or colleagues—who may act out. Instead of reacting with anger, we should ask: Is this defiance, or is there pain behind their actions? The ability to discern the difference can transform relationships.
A Story of Compassion
About 75 years ago in Jerusalem, a man approached a free-loan society for financial help. The director, a respected community member, denied his request, explaining that policy required a waiting period between loans. Desperate, the man slapped the director across the face. Instead of retaliating, the director stepped away, returned with the money, and handed it to him. When asked why he didn’t throw the man out, he replied, “I know him well, and he has never behaved this way. If he acted so aggressively, his situation must be dire. That’s why I gave him the loan.”
Sensitivity to others’ pain isn’t reserved for the exceptionally righteous—it is a trait every Jew should cultivate. Whether in leadership roles or personal relationships, we must remember that challenging behavior often masks deep distress. By responding with understanding rather than judgment, we can offer true support and connection.
Good Shabbos.