Purim

Where is Moshe in the Torah? “For that he also is flesh” (Bereishit 6:3, the numerical value of the Hebrew word “bi’she’gam” is the equivalent to the value of Moshe). Where is Haman in the Torah? “Have you eaten from the tree” (Bereishit 3:11, playing off the word “ha’min”). Where is Esther in the Torah? “And I will surely hide my face on that day” (Devarim 31:18, “hastar astir”). Where is Mordechai in the Torah? It is written “pure myrrh” (Shemot 30:23) which we translate into Aramaic as myra dechaya. (Chullin 139b)

Presumably, this gemara does not actually need a Pentateuchal source for these characters. Moshe appears in enough verses in Chumash that we could not possible require an additional hint to his presence. Rather, the gemara wants to draw some conceptual link between the various personalities and the verses which they are associated with. Each association deserves investigation.

The verse in Sefer Bereishit linked with Moshe also states that human life will not exceed one hundred and twenty years. Rashi (Chullin 139b) points out that Moshe lived until this age. Perhaps the gemara wants to take note of Moshe’s having the longest life possible in our postdiluvian existence. Maharal (Chiddushei Aggadot) thinks that the gemara connects Moshe with a verse leading up to the flood because of the dominance of water in Moshe’s life story. He is saved in water as a baby, he splits the red sea, and a sin involving water prevents his entry into the land of Israel.

Why does the gemara link Haman with Adam and Eve eating from the Tree of Life? Rashi notes that Haman’s life ended with hanging from a tree. If so, the gemara’s link relates to the tree and not to the sin. Maharal explains that humanity’s first sin brought death into the world and Haman stands for death. Yesterday, I brought my son Zadok to a local dentist named Shalom Arbiv and he cited a powerful interpretation from R. Simcha Kook. Adam and Eve had access to every other fruit bearing tree in the garden but they could not resist the lure of the one forbidden fruit. In the same way, Haman had the entire kingdom save Mordechai bowing down to him but he could not live with one exception. The gemara’s association highlights the foolishness of humanity when we give up so much goodness we already have in the pursuit of something that we cannot have.

Most commentators explain the Esther verse in the identical way. That verse speaks of God hiding his face from the Jewish people. The Purim episode relates to a time when God’s presence is less obviously manifested. God’s name does not appear in the entire Megila. This is the only book in Tanach without a single mention of God’s name. Ibn Ezra explains that the author avoided using the name of God because he was concerned that Persian translations of this book would substitute idolatrous gods for the real God. A simpler explanation says that the absence of God’s name conveys the difference between this salvation and earlier redemptions.

In the Pesach story, God continuously intervenes in an obviously miraculous fashion. No such change in the natural order occurs in the Purim story. In theory, one could relate the story without bringing God into the picture. However, a more discerning reader sees traces of God’s presence everywhere. So many “chance” occurrences enable salvation. The king’s anger with Vashti allows Esther to become the queen. Bigtan and Teresh’s plot facilitates Mordechai’s favored status. Surely, a divine hand helps orchestrate the proceedings.

As Jewish history progressed, the amount of open miracles decreased. In particular, the differences between the first temple and the second temple point to this change. The Purim episode, after the first temple’s destruction, stands at a crucial juncture of Jewish history. Will we recognize God’s influence in the world even in an age without open miracles? Celebrating Purim asserts an affirmative answer. The gemara associates a verse with Esther that highlights the significance of Purim and emphasizes one of the holiday’s essential themes.

Deborah Tannen wrote an excellent book, You Just Don’t Understand: Women and Men in Conversation. She describes how men and women might code their speech and decipher speech differently and how this can lead to communication problems. Let’s see how this might have played out in the relationship between King Achashverosh and Esther.

Following the Amida prayer recited every day, we say, “May it be your will, Lord our God and the God of our forefathers, that the Holy Temple be rebuilt, speedily in our days. Grants us our share in Your Torah, and may we serve You there with reverence, as in days of old and in former years. Then the offering of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasing to the Lord, as in days of old and in former years.” Of all the Parshiot and of all the Jewish holidays, the biblical description of the building of the Temple, the sacrifices, and the story of Purim are the most foreign to the non-Jewish experience, the most difficult for non-Jews to understand, and the most difficult for them to accept.

In chapter five of the book of Esther, King Achashverosh asked Esther what it was that she wanted and what it was that she was asking for. Why the “and”? Wasn’t what she wanted and what she was asking for the same thing? Or, like many men, was Achashverosh having trouble deciphering “female” communication? It seems that the man really was trying hard to understand the difference between what Esther seemed to be asking for and what she really wanted. He certainly seemed to sense that Esther wanted something other than what she was asking for, because he persisted in asking this double question no fewer than three times. Twice, Esther turned down the fantastic offer of half the kingdom and told him, basically, that all she really wanted was exactly what she was asking for – that he just be home on time for dinner. Unbelievable!

In tractate Megillah 15b of the Talmud, we learn that the offer of half the kingdom was not as generous as it might appear. King Achashverosh would give Esther half the kingdom, but not the entire kingdom – that seems reasonable. Nor would he give her that which divides the kingdom, that which was located in the centre. There is a play on words here, since “chatzi” means half, but chotzeitz means “divides”. “Half” necessarily excludes that which divides. And what was that? It was the Temple – or, more precisely at that time, it was the rebuilding of the Temple.

The Jews were allowed many things in the kingdom, but not that which uniquely identified them as Jews, not even the smallest symbol of their relationship with God, not the Temple, not the small piece of land on which it stood – not to live as Jews. Esther could have anything else, but not that.

Finally, after Achashverosh asked her for the third time what it was that she really wanted, Esther answers. She was asking for her life and for the life of her people as Jews. Just to be able to live – is that so much to ask for that it must be refused?

Would it have been difficult for Achashverosh to intervene in the attacks on the Jews? The impending slaughter had no reason other than to eliminate these people simply because they were Jews. The answer, of course, is yes, he could have intervened and prevented it. He was the King, after all, and he seemed to have pretty good control of his kingdom. He was even sympathetic to the Jews. He gave them moral support and he permitted them to defend themselves – but, he would not intervene. That he would not do, because it would mean legitimizing the Jewish people just as allowing them to rebuild the Temple would have legitimized them. They could have anything else, they could even become great in the King’s land as Mordechai did, becoming second only after the King in the entire kingdom. But for all of that, they were not allowed legitimacy as Jews. And so, given the impending destruction, the Jews did what they had to do to defend themselves so that they could continue to live. Unfortunately, Achashverosh’s response has, all too often, been about as far as the Jew’s “friends” have been prepared to go.

We find the answer to Achashverosh’s question, “What did Esther really want?” in the very last sentence of the book of Esther. What Esther really wanted, what the Jewish people really wanted was peace. The Jews didn’t want their jewels, not their honors, not their land, not anything that belonged to anyone else. What the Jews really wanted was just to be able to live in peace as Jews.