Purim
March 5, 2005

In addition to being Shabbat, today is also Rosh Hodesh, the beginning of a new Hebrew month. The month is Adar and midway through it, we celebrate the popular and fun-filled holiday of Purim. There is a special song for this month whose words are: me sheh nichnas hodesh Adar marbim b’simcha, which means “with the start of the month of Adar, we increase our joy.” Even before Purim begins, we are in a happy frame of mind as we anticipate this raucous festival.

Because Purim is a time of playful fun including carnivals and costume parades, we tend to think of it as a children’s holiday. What I would like to demonstrate to you this morning is that Purim has a serious side that raises significant issues for us as adult Jews.

The main happening on Purim is hearing the Megillah read. On the surface, it is an amusing tale of palace intrigue rich in buffoonery and comical errors. But upon closer examination, it becomes clear that something more profound is taking place.

The heroes of the story are Mordecai and Esther. Those names are classical Jewish ones today, but scholars state that they are derived from the personal names of pagan gods. Mordecai is based on the Babylonian god Marduk and Esther on the goddess Ishtar. This is no small point. Imagine Jewish parents today naming their child Chris or Christine. It doesn’t happen unless the family is trying to down play or even hide its Jewish ancestry. So, too, we may assume that Esther and Mordecai’s parents named their children after the god and goddess of Babylonia so that they would be able to quietly blend into their society without calling attention to themselves as Jews.

That is not all that we know about their desire to assimilate. When Esther tries out for the position of queen of Persia, Mordecai, her uncle, instructs her not to reveal her origins. What we have in the Megillah, therefore, is not simply a story about two Jewish heroes. Esther and Mordecai start out as assimilated Jews, eager to keep their Jewishness private and their climb to power rapid.

Perhaps the custom of wearing masks on Purim to disguise oneself is a playing out the identity conflict of Esther and Mordecai. We can hear them wondering to themselves: “Who am I?” “Do I want to be thought of as Jew?” “Do I want to totally assimilate?” “Do those around me recognize me for who I really am?” “Do I want them to?”

Esther kept her religion and ethnic background hidden. She was masquerading as someone she was not. Clearly, simmering beneath a quaint tale that is the setting for a fun-filled holiday is an inner battle and internal conflict over the serious issue of identity.
There is one more point to be made about the Megillah that has implications for how we understand the message of this holiday. Megillat Esther is the only book of the bible that does not even once mention God. In this book, human beings are the significant actors. They bring about their own salvation. This contrasts with the book of Exodus, to cite but one example, where God is the prime mover who brings about the Israelites’ redemption.

Purim celebrates Jews taking charge of their own fate. Mordecai and Esther challenged and eventually defeated the rabidly anti-Semitic prime Minister of Persia, named Haman, who had issued a decree of genocide against the Jews. In our day, too, our fate is in our own hands, but the challenge is different. Anti-Semitism today is aggravating and disturbing, but at this time, it is hardly a threat to our existence. What is truly a threat is our own inability to bring energy, enthusiasm and passion to Jewish life.

Now, we like to think that the major threat to Jewish existence is anti-Semitism because we know how to deal with that problem. We have the Anti-Defamation League, the Wiesenthal Center, the American Jewish Congress and the American Jewish Committee effectively handling hatred of and discrimination against Jews. And all we have to do is write a check to support their efforts.

But if we admit that the real threat to Jewish existence is internal and lies with us as Jews, reflecting what Charlie Brown said, “I have seen the enemy and it is me” – then we, ourselves – each of us – has to do something about it. The easy step of putting a check in the mail may help fight anti-Semitism, but only our own efforts will stem the tide of Jewish assimilation and apathy.

Insuring meaningful Jewish survival is something only we, ourselves, can accomplish. We need to become passionate about Judaism once again. We need to be enthusiastic about being Jewish. We can do that, I believe, if we accept and reconnect with our mission as a Jewish people. Let me remind you of that mission that goes all the way back to Mount Sinai. It was there that our ancestors entered into a covenant, a sacred agreement, to live according to God’s commandments and be a holy people.

Most of us would never regard ourselves as holy or even as candidates for holiness. Holiness sounds like something only monks strive for, something you have to retreat to a monastery to achieve. But in Judaism, holiness is available to the ordinary person. How? – by observing God’s mitzvot in all their variety. It is reached through worship and by keeping the sanctity of Shabbat. Holiness is attained through torah study and by ameliorating poverty and human suffering through tzedakah. Holiness in Judaism is associated with being selective about what you put into your mouth and being careful about what comes out of your mouth. Holiness is something you strive for in your home by observing the traditions of Judaism and outside your home by exemplifying Jewish values in the way you conduct yourself in your business or profession.

Judaism teaches us that every time we perform an act of loving-kindness or pursue justice, every time we have a spiritual moment or engage in a religious ritual, we bring holiness into our lives and into the world.

Purim is a story of Jewish survival. In various times and places, survival has been achieved in different ways. In the days of Mordecai and Esther and on many other occasions that followed, it was secured by fighting against anti-Semites who wished to destroy us. In other times, like our own, Jewish survival is dependent upon spiritual rejuvenation, upon recapturing passion for Judaism and for its mission.

Toward the end of the megillah, we are told, “For the Jews of Persia, there was light and joy, gladness and honor. May we and our American Jewish community also merit joy and light because we are seekers of holiness in life and choose to make Judaism a passionate, compelling and engaging spiritual pursuit for ourselves and for our families.

Shabbat shalom