The 13th of Adar of the year 474BCE, in the twelfth year of Xerxes, King Achashverosh’s reign, was likely the most crucial day in Jewish history. On that day, Haman’s decree was supposed to be carried out. The royal edict indicated that “whoever killed a Jew throughout the Persian Empire would not be prosecuted for a crime and could keep the victim’s possessions”. The imperial police would not intervene. The law enforcers would allow “free zones” for these crimes to occur without their interference. Thanks to this legal impunity and to the irresistible economic incentive for the executors, this decree would have meant the end of the Jewish people.

But providentially, and thanks to the audacious actions of Queen Ester, the collective extermination sentence was avoided.  King Achashverosh, this time urged by Mordechai and Esther, signed a second decree. This decree could not cancel the previous one because the King’s edicts could not be suspended, reversed, or modified according to Persian Empire laws. The second decree, thus, allowed Jews to carry weapons, counterattack and defend themselves. With no legal consequences if they killed someone in the process. The police and the Persian army would stay out of the conflict.

The question was: how did events unfold when that day arrived? How did we defend ourselves? Our enemies were likely more numerous than us and probably better armed. How did we manage to counterattack? The Megillah clearly states נקהלו ועמוד על נפשם “They gathered together and stood up for their lives.” All Jews throughout the Persian Empire united and collaborated to fight against the enemy. We realized that although we were not stronger, we were more organized than the enemy, and thus we were able to defeat them.

Imagine a town in Turkey with 1,000 Jews and a few kilometers away, a village on the Syrian border with only 10 Jews, who would have been an easy target for the anti-Semitic enemies. Normally, there was no collaboration between the two Jewish communities. But on Purim, we decided to unite נקהלו and defend each other: the community in Turkey sent a delegation of 100 armed Jews to defend their 10 brothers in the Syrian town. We realized that if we united and helped each other, we could defeat the anti-Semitic enemy, and that’s what happened. Jewish communities worldwide mobilized and sent protection, food, and resources to other communities that were not as strong. Hence the emphasis of the Megillah on the word “ve’niqhalu,” the Jews acted united as a ‘qahal,’ that is, as a community. 

That’s why on the day of Purim, all the mitsvot we do are around the idea of “niqhalu.” We give money to the poor, reminding us that we helped and collaborated with Jews with fewer resources.  On the other hand, we exchange gifts with other Jews, perhaps representing gratitude to our Jewish brothers for having helped us in the past and indicating that when we are in dire straits, we can always rely on each other.

Inspired by the Dibre Tora of my children in today’s Family Chat

DEATH SENTENCE

Purim took place in the year 474 BCE, which corresponds to the 12th year of the Persian Emperor Ahasuerus or Xerxes. At that time, all the Jews of the world lived under the same political roof: the Persian Empire. They were scattered throughout the empire and were very successful in international trade. But now, all the Jews of the empire had been sentenced to death, and the world would be Judenrein, “free of Jews.” This was Haman’s “final solution,” and it was the goal of the Nazis during World War II. Haman’s method of killing Jews was much more effective than the Nazis. Haman did not have to recruit any army or spend a bullet from the empire. His malevolent method was summarized in two words included in the edict: USHLALAM LA-BOZ, which means “on the 13th of Adar, every citizen of the Persian Empire can kill a Jew and keep all their possessions: their properties, their money, their businesses.” Thus, Haman encouraged neighbors to kill their Jewish acquaintances by offering them the guarantee that everything would be legal and the executioners would not suffer any consequences for their crimes. On the contrary, they could keep the belongings of the Jews they killed. The imperial army, it seems, would be on the side of the oppressors, preventing the Jews from defending themselves. All of this is expressed directly or indirectly in the edict Haman signed and sent in the name of King Ahasuerus. The decree established that the genocide of the Jews, the mega-execution of hundreds of thousands of Jews, including the approximately 50,000 Jews living in Israel – which also belonged to the Persian Empire – would take place on the 13th of Adar that year. The letters containing the royal edict were sent 11 months earlier, on the 13th of Nisan. After Esther and Mordecai thwarted Haman’s sinister plan and the evil Persian minister was executed, new official letters were sent announcing that the Jews could defend themselves against their enemies and the law would be on their side. These letters were dispatched on the 23rd of Sivan, 70 days after the first letters were sent.

COULD THE JEWS ESCAPE?

One of the themes that is most difficult to visualize in the history of Purim is what the Jews must have gone through once they heard the death sentence and during the next 70 days until the new decision of the king arrived. Midrashim tells that many gentile neighbors delighted in showing their sharp knives to poor Jewish mothers, warning them that they would use those weapons to kill their little children. The Midrash also explains that the oppressors celebrated the massacre in advance and distributed the property and possessions of the Jews in advance. Rabbi Yom Tob Tsahalon (1559-1619) in his book Leqaj Tob says – when referring to Mordecai’s urgency to cancel Haman’s decree, even though there were 9 months left for its implementation – that the Jews had been “detained” or “enslaved” with the collaboration of the imperial army to prevent them from escaping the empire or liquidating their property, or saving their lives before the 13th of Adar. Thinking about Europe from 1940-1945, it is not difficult to imagine the “concentration camps” where thousands of Jews were concentrated, waiting for the day of their execution. The Yehudim could do nothing more than pray and wait for a miracle, which in the end,  B”H happened. Rabbi Tsahalon also mentions an opinion that the enemies of the Jews had begun to kill the Jews as soon as they received the decree, interpreting the words “velo ya’abor” as authorizing them to kill Jews “until” the 13th of Adar. Hence the urgency of Mordecai and Esther.

MIDRASH AS AN EDUCATIONAL TOOL

Midrashim and Aggadot—rabbinic interpretations of biblical texts—include a wide range of literary genres. Some are fictional narratives, others are poetic, and some describe events rooted in reality. In this sense, they are similar to literature or cinema: some works are fiction, others are documentaries.

Because Midrashim are not necessarily meant to convey literal historical accounts, they naturally allow for multiple interpretations. These interpretations can all be valid, as long as they communicate a meaningful moral or educational message.

Let us look at a well-known example connected to Purim.

TWO VERSIONS OF VASHTI

The Megillah tells us that when King Achasverosh held his second banquet, which lasted seven days, Vashti—his wife and queen—organized a separate banquet for the women. At a certain point, the king, under the influence of wine, summoned Vashti and demanded that she “display her beauty” before the men present—the dignitaries and the masses. Vashti refused.

Angered by her refusal, Achasverosh consulted his advisors, who recommended removing her from the throne for showing him disrespect. Some time later, Achasverosh chose Esther as queen in Vashti’s place.

The biblical text does not explain why Vashti refused the king’s command, leaving room for interpretation. As is often the case, more than one approach emerges.

The sages of Babylonia portray Vashti as an immoral woman. According to them, she refused to appear only because she was suddenly afflicted with a physical defect—such as leprosy or even a tail (Megillah 12b). According to this view, Vashti would not have objected to exposing herself indecently, but Divine Providence intervened to prevent her appearance so that Esther could eventually become queen and save the Jewish people.

In contrast, the sages of the Land of Israel view Vashti more favorably. They teach that Achasverosh had once been a steward to Belshazzar and rose to kingship by marrying Vashti, the daughter of that famous Babylonian emperor (Midrash Esther Rabbah 3:14). From this perspective, Vashti—who came from royalty—refused the king’s request because she was a dignified and modest woman who would not expose herself in public.

WHAT MESSAGE ARE WE TEACHING OUR DAUGHTERS?

Which of these two interpretations should we teach our children in school? Which one will have a more positive impact on the character of our daughters and guide them in a healthier way?

I believe that in most Jewish schools—whether by omission or lack of awareness—only the Babylonian version is taught. The image of Vashti covered in blemishes has unfortunately become one of the most common motifs in children’s Purim artwork.

This raises an important question: does this Midrash, which portrays Vashti as indecent, also convey a subliminal message that may be harmful to our girls?

On an unconscious level, girls may absorb the following message:
“If you are invited to a party and your hair isn’t perfect, you have pimples, you are not very thin, or you don’t look like the ‘perfect girls’—learn from Vashti and don’t go. And if you do go, feel ashamed.”

Are we, unintentionally, nurturing such a negative message in our daughters?

Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt explains that constant exposure to images on social media causes preadolescent girls to continually compare themselves to unrealistic beauty ideals. This visual comparison damages their self-esteem, making them feel that they are not pretty enough or thin enough. As a result, many develop insecurity and anxiety, and instead of valuing themselves for who they are—or what they do—they mistakenly learn to value themselves for how they look (see The Anxious Generation).

For this reason, I suggest that we return to teaching the perspective of the sages of the Land of Israel regarding Vashti—with a renewed educational goal: to emphasize modesty, dignity, and appropriate dress, without making girls even more self-conscious about their appearance.

As the message can be framed:
“If a non-Jewish queen like Vashti was careful not to expose herself in public, how much more so should we—girls who belong to Am Yisrael—be careful.”

LEARN FROM ROYALTY

Some time ago, my wife led an activity with Bat Mitzvah girls—some of whom did not come from particularly observant families—and spoke to them in language they could all understand. She described how the Princess of England dresses: elegantly, yet modestly, following the protocol of true royalty.

Real royalty does not dress provocatively—not because of physical imperfections, but because nobility demands dignity.

Some commonly cited protocols of British royalty include:

• Women of the royal family wear elegant dresses that reach the knee or slightly below.

• Hats are common at formal events.

• Long sleeves or three-quarter sleeves are recommended.

• Colors are generally understated and not overly attention-grabbing.