Purim and the Coronavirus – Shabbat Zakhor 5780

Today is Shabbat Zakhor.  We have a special Torah reading and Haftarah for the Shabbat before Purim.  It is the only Torah reading which, according to Jewish law, individuals are required to hear.  It is that important.  It begins, Zakhor.

Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear.

Deuteronomy 25:17-18

The Torah is emphatic about the requirement to blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven.  Punctuating this command are the words lo tishkakh – “Do not forget.”

What is the connection to Purim?  Haman, the wicked villain of the Purim story, is identified in the Megillah as an Aggagite.  That is to say, a descendant of Agag, the Amalekite King whom we will read about in the haftarah.

The story of Purim is set approximately 900 years after the Amalekites attacked our ancestors in the wilderness.  Deuteronomy’s warning was still unfulfilled.  

But the message extends beyond the literal Amalekites.  Amalek can appear in many guises, and has done so throughout history.  

What is the particular quality of Amalek’s wickedness?  The Torah identifies it explicitly.  They went after the weak and famished stragglers on the periphery of the of the nation.  They targeted those least able to defend themselves.

In the story of Purim, the Jews are an obscure, exiled people living in a foreign land.  They have no power or influence in the court.  When Haman plots to murder every last Jew throughout the Empire, he is emulating the modus operandi of his ancestors.  The Jews of Persia are like the famished and weary stragglers in the wilderness.

At the end of the story, Mordechai and Esther send out edicts throughout the Empire, instructing the Jewish people to observe the 14th and 15th days of Adar as annual holidays of celebration.

It is not merely an excuse for a party, however.  There is meaning and purpose behind the festival of Purim.  The story of persecution and deliverance is one that has repeated throughout our history.  There have been countless Haman’s and Amalekites who have targeted the Jewish people.  

But we are a people that does not forget, and this is, in no small part, a primary reason for our survival.  While our calendar has many days of sadness and mourning, we also have days for celebration.  That is what Purim is.  Purim stands in for all of those times in our history when we have been targeted by those stronger and more powerful than us.  It is the most “realistic” book in the Bible.  God is hidden, without a single explicit reference.  Similarly, our experience of reality requires us to look beyond the empirical to find God’s Presence.

I would like to read to you a short article that appeared in the Jewish Telegraphic Agency’s daily bulletin on March 9, 1945.  It was posted in Gladbach, Germany.

Belated Purim services were held here yesterday in a castle belonging to Dr. Joseph Goebels by front-line troops who were too busy fighting last week to pause for the traditional observances.

Capt. Manual Poliakeff of Baltimore, a Jewish chaplain, carefully arranged the candles over a swastika-bedecked bookcase in Goebbels’ main dining room. Pfc, Arnold Reich of Meadville, Pa. and Corp. Martin Willen of Baltimore assisted the chaplain.

The services were attended by a large crowd which filled the vast room. Jewish and non-Jewish soldiers were in the audience, and the Jews explained to their Christian comrades about Haman and why it was so fitting that Purim services should be held in a castle belonging to Goebbels.

I can only imagine the intensity of emotions that were felt by those who found themselves celebrating Purim in Goebbels mansion.  The message of Purim is that, in a dark and dangerous world, we have to celebrate life whenever we can.  

Israel, despite being an incredibly stressful, high-pressured place to live, has adopted this approach.  It is routinely ranked as being on of the happiest places to live, according to the World Happiness Index.  In 2019, it was ranked 13th, having fallen two places.

It is not what we expect from a country that deals with terrorism, rockets, and regular threats of annihilation from Iran.  But it is also a nation whose citizens know that they have got to keep living, that they cannot dwell only on the bad things.

This year, Purim takes on a different tone as we find ourselves in the midst of an emerging global pandemic.

The Coronavirus is neither Haman, nor the Amalekites.  But like them, it is particularly dangerous to vulnerable populations: the elderly and those with compromised immune systems.

Like in the Megillah, deliverance will come through the well thought out actions of human beings: doctors, nurses, public health officials, and scientists.  But we also have roles to play.  Before Esther went to see the King, she asked the Jewish people of Shushan to fast and pray with her for three days.  There was an important role for the “non-experts” to play.

Jewish law holds a person accountable for even inadvertent harm caused by our bodies.  I am always responsible for what my body does, even while I am sleeping.

Maimonides codifies it in his law code, the Mishneh Torah.  He says that, as far as liability for causing an injury to another person is concerned, there is no difference if a person strikes someone by hand, injures them by throwing a stone or shooting an arrow, or “spits or sneezes and causes damage with his spittle or mucus while it is being propelled by his power… [A person] is liable for all of them, as if he had caused the damage with his hands.”  (Chovel Umeizik 6:10)

These rules are repeated in the Shulchan Arukh as normative Jewish law.  

Maimonides and the Shulchan Arukh were from the 12th and 16th centuries, respectively, so they can be forgiven for not knowing about germs.  It is striking that they conceive of a person causing inadvertent harm through spittle and mucus.  Although for them, the worry is that somebody might slip and injure themself.

We now are aware, of course, that illness can be transmitted through the same bodily fluids.  Extending the principle, we find that we are halakhically obligated to follow precautions of the sort that the CDC and the county health department are recommending.  It is an issue of Jewish law.

Parents, you can tell your kids that “the Rabbi says you have to wash your hands.”

We sent out an email on Thursday in which we asked members of the community to take responsibility for each other in specific ways.  I would like to repeat them now:

  • If you have—or recently had—symptoms of illness, including fever, coughing, runny nose, sore throat, stomach bug, vomiting, or any other sickness, DO NOT come to shul. 
  • If you have an underlying immune condition or chronic heart or lung problem, you should also probably stay away.
  • Wash your hands with soap and water for 20 seconds after contact with common locations like door handles or railings.
  • If washing your hands is not possible, please make use of the alcohol-based hand sanitizer.  It is not as effective as good hand washing.
  • Try not to touch your eyes, nose, and mouth.
  • If you need to cough or sneeze, please do so into a disposable tissue. If none is available, sneeze into your elbow. Then go wash your hands.
  • We are on “Elbow Bump Protocol.”  Head nodding is fine.  No hand shaking.  
  • Do not directly kiss the Torah or Mezuzot.
  • If you are in any way involved with food preparation or serving, always wash your hands thoroughly beforehand and use the disposable gloves available in the kitchen.

At Kiddush:

  • Don’t use your hands.  Only use a serving utensil.
  • Please keep an eye on children, and gently remind them not to use their hands.

Most of this seems like common sense, but we tend to get sloppy and lax when we are not paying direct attention.

Our joy on Purim this year is diminished a bit, both because of the extra precautions that we are forced to take, and more importantly by the awareness of those who have died from this disease, those whose lives have been disrupted in profound ways, and those who will continue to get sick.

To the Rabbis of the Talmud, illness was more mysterious than for us.  Humanity had little to no ability to cure illness.  A person who got sick was pretty much in God’s hands.  After the death of a colleague’s child, Reish Lakish offers a series of prayers on behalf of the deceased, the mourners, those who have come to comfort the mourners.  He even offers a prayer on behalf of the entire Jewish people.

Master of the worlds, redeem and save, rescue and deliver Your people, Israel, from the pestilence and from the sword…  and from all types of afflictions that suddenly erupt and come to the world. Before we call You are already responding. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who halts the plague.

Babylonian Talmud, Ketubot 8b

We pray for healing for those who are ill and for health and wellness for us, our communities, and all people.

May we all have a happy and healthy Purim.

Shabbat Zakhor 5779 – Esther the Feminist Hero

This morning is known as Shabbat Zakhor, the Shabbat immediately preceding the holiday of Purim.

Purim is my favorite.  At my shul in San Jose, we bring the bar up front of the sanctuary, right next to the bimah.  It’s so loud we pass out earplugs.  Our costumes give us the opportunity to don our alter-egos, and the partying is unmatched by any other holiday in the Jewish calendar.  Raucous merriment is the norm, and typical social rules are (mostly) set aside for one day.  It is even considered acceptable, I regret to say, to make fun of the Rabbi – but I do not recommend it.  Purim is the Jewish carneval, our opportunity to put a farcical spotlight on the hypocrisies and challenges embedded in society.

Megillat Esther, which we will read this Wednesday night and Thursday, embodies this spirit of farce, addressing some of the same societal challenges that we face today.  But there is so much about this story that we miss by not understanding it in its social context, and by not reading it closely enough.

Esther is unusual as one of only two books in the Hebrew Bible named after a woman (Ruth is the other).

But before Esther enters the scene in chapter two, we meet Queen Vashti.  She hosts a separate women’s banquet during her husband’s six-months-long party.  In his drunken state, the king thinks it would be a good idea to summon Vashti to appear before him and all of his guests wearing her crown.  Vashti refuses.

Furious, the King turns to his closest advisors for counsel on the proper legal response.  The men of the court are terrified that all of the women in the empire will follow the Queen’s brazen example and despise and defy their husbands.  Following the advice of one of his advisors, Achashverosh banishes Vashti. 

In recent years, feminist readers have found a hero in Queen Vashti.  She is a strong, proud woman who stands up to the male establishment with her emphatic refusal to submit to the King’s demeaning command.  

When the boorish King banishes her, Vashti marches out of the palace proudly, head high, leaving behind her legacy as a proto-feminist martyr.

In contrast, Esther seems passive–she is simply an object, used by Mordechai and Achashverosh for her looks.  Many contemporary readers accuse Mordechai of pimping out his niece.  Read the Megillah closely.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

If there is a feminist hero in this story, it is most certainly Esther, not Vashti. 

Adele Berlin, author of the JPS commentary on Esther, explains that to really understand these figures, we need to know something about ancient Persian society.

It is completely inappropriate for husbands to participate in drinking banquets in the presence of their wives.  That is why Vashti hosts a separate women’s banquet.  

When Achashverosh summons her to his party to show off her beauty, he is the one breaking the rules.  In so doing, he places the queen in an impossible situation – she can lower herself to the level of a concubine or slave, or, she can disobey the King.  Either way she loses.

She chooses to disobey and suffer the consequences.  She defends social norms by insisting that the queen should not be put on display.  In refusing, she maintains her dignity as her husband loses his.  Adele Berlin describes Vashti as playing the role of “the strong-willed royal woman.”

But really, Vashti represents those whom society places in impossible situations:  “Do what is asked of you and stay repressed.  Suffer the consequences if you step out of your role.”  Perhaps that is why we don’t hear Vashti’s voice.  

Think of the billions of people in the world who struggle in societies in which women are repressed, children don’t receive decent education, or poverty, malnutrition, and lack of access to health care limit opportunities to get ahead.  People without basic rights have a tough time challenging the status quo.

Esther is the real feminist hero of the Megillah.  She breaks all the rules, and gets away with it.

When the King sends his soldiers out across the Kingdom to gather all of the young women, Esther, an orphan refugee, is rounded up as well.  

Esther is special in many ways.  While she is described as shapely and beautiful, she has another quality that is frequently repeated in the text.  Chen – best translated as “grace.”  Chen is an inner quality by which Esther charms everyone she meets.  Chen seems to be a combination of emotional intelligence, wisdom, and confidence.

After Esther is taken, Mordechai, who has raised her like a daughter, follows his niece to the palace, hoping to overhear snippets of news.

In the harem, where the young virgins go through an entire year of preparation before appearing before the King, Esther quickly rises to the top.

The time arrives for her to go to Achashverosh.  Although she is entitled to bring anything she wants with her, Esther requests nothing.  All she needs is herself and her chen.  The King is immediately charmed, and crowns her as Queen.

In chapter three, we meet Haman, who bribes King Achashverosh to allow him to kill all of the Jews of Persia in revenge for Mordechai refusing to bow down to him.  At the end of the scene, Haman and the King sit down to drink while the city is dumbfounded by the quickly spreading news.

Thus begins chapter 4, in which Esther takes charge.  Upon hearing the terrible news, Mordechai tears his clothes, puts on sackcloth, and covers his head with ashes – all signs of mourning.

Esther hears about her uncle and sends a eunuch named Hatach to talk to Mordechai, check things out, and bring back a report.  Mordechai tells him the whole story, and even shows him Haman’s decree with the King’s seal.  He sends Hatach to Esther with the message that she must go before the King to appeal for mercy on behalf of her people.  In fact, Mordechai commands her to do so.

Esther does not comply.  “Everyone knows,” she says “that if any person, man or woman, enters the King’s presence in the inner court without having been summoned, there is but one law for him—that he be put to death.  Only if the King extends the golden scepter to him may he live. Now I have not been summoned to visit the King for the last thirty days.”

In this episode, we tend to see Mordechai as a paternalistic father-figure trying to convince his young, naive niece to intercede on behalf of the Jewish people.  This is not what is going on.

Esther’s response is not an outright refusal.  In fact, her statement shows deeper thoughtfulness and strategy than her uncle’s.  She understands the intricacies and risks of court life.  Consider her words the opening salvos in a political negotiation.

Mordechai responds, again through Hatach, playing shuttle diplomat.  “Do not imagine that you, of all the Jews, will escape with your life by being in the King’s palace.  On the contrary, if you keep silent in this crisis, relief and deliverance will come to the Jews from another quarter, while you and your father’s house will perish.  And who knows, perhaps you have attained to royal position for just such a crisis.”

How should we understand this densely packed statement?  Is it a threat?  Is Mordechai trying to appeal to Esther’s ego, dangling the prospect of becoming the hero of the story.  In any event, it seems, on the face of things, that Mordechai has taken Esther’s response as a refusal to act, and now he is trying to change her mind.

Esther responds with a plan.  She sends word to Mordechai to assemble all the Jews of Shushan and fast for three days.  Meanwhile, she will do the same with her court in the palace.  Then she throws in a bit of melodrama, “and if I am to perish, I shall perish.”

Esther throws Mordechai’s threats back at him.  She will indeed try to intercede, on her own terms.  She makes sure that Mordechai understands the risks she is taking.

We are now back where we started from.  The chapter opened with Mordechai and the Jews of Shushan in mourning.  Now, Esther has declared her solidarity with the Jews of Shushan by calling for a three day public fast, also an act of mourning.  In the postscript to the chapter, Mordechai returns to the city, and does what Esther has commanded him.

Notice that the exchanges began with Mordechai commanding a resistant Esther.  Now it is Esther who is doing the commanding.  And Mordechai obeys.  Their roles have reversed.  In its subtle way, the Megillah has shown us Esther’s transformation.

Remember Vashti’s big moment of defiance?  She refuses to appear before the King when she is summoned, and suffers the consequences.

Esther now does the exact opposite.  She shows up uninvited—a big no-no—but her boldness is rewarded.  “Even to half the Kingdom, it shall be yours,” offers Achashverosh. 

What is her request?  It’s modest: one small soirée, which is so successful that she follows it with a second.  When the King is good and tipsy, Esther goes for the big reveal.  Listen to how she builds up the tension:

If I have found grace in your eyes—chen—Your Majesty, and if it pleases Your Majesty, let my life be granted me as my wish, and my people as my request.  For we have been sold, my people and I, to be destroyed, massacred, and exterminated.  Had we only been sold as bondmen and bondwomen, I would have kept silent; for the adversary is not worthy of the king’s trouble.”

She pauses.  “Who is he and where is he who dared to do this?” screams the King.

“The adversary and enemy,” replies Esther, drawing it out for maximum impact, “is this evil Haman!”

Her timing is impeccable.  Haman’s fate is sealed.  But Esther is just getting started.

She acquires all of Haman’s property.  She introduces her uncle Mordechai to King Achashverosh.  She puts Mordechai in charge of her new acquisitions, and the King assigns Mordechai to the newly vacated position of Viceroy.

She appeals to the King for permission for the Jews of Persia to defend themselves from their attackers, which he eagerly grants.

When the reports come back, the King himself brings the news to Esther.  The Jews of Shushan have killed 500 of their enemies, including the ten sons of Haman.  The King offers her another request.  She asks not only for permission to defend themselves again the next day, but also to impale the corpses of Haman’s sons and put them on display.

The King grants her request, and the Jews of Shushan kill another 300 people.  Across Persia, Esther’s people kill 75,000 of their enemies.

At this point, we might refer to her as Esther the Bloodthirsty.

By the end of the story, Esther is effectively ruling the Persian Empire.  She has taken down the second most powerful person in the court, and positioned her uncle to be his replacement.  She has put down a rebellion, saved her people, and become fabulously wealthy.

To accomplish all of this, Esther has broken every rule of Persian society, and everyone around her either does not notice, or does not care.  If we are looking for a feminist hero, someone to serve as a model for breaking the rules of a patriarchal society, there is nobody better than Esther.

As we celebrate Purim in a few days, let’s consider the strength of character of Queens Vashti and Queen Esther.  How did they handle a society that restricted their options?  What might they teach us about addressing the inequalities that persist in our world?  And if you are thinking about dressing up like Esther for Purim this year, let me suggest that a Disney Princess dress might not quite capture her essence.

The Wicked King Achashverosh – Purim 5776

King Achashverosh is the central figure in the Book of Esther.  Most of the critical events revolve around him in some way or another.  He selects Esther to be his Queen.  He appoints Haman and authorizes his plot to kill the Jews.  His order enables the Jewish people to defend themselves and defeat Haman’s evil plot.  And then he appoints Mordechai to replace Haman as his Viceroy.  Without Achashverosh, there is not much of a story.

Ironically, when we think of the figure of King Achashverosh, we tend to picture him as a bumbling fool.  His interests are primarily in wine, women, and wealth.  He leaves the art of statecraft to his advisors.  He is unable to make any serious decisions himself, and so his answer to any recommendation, regardless of the source, is always an enthusiastic “yes!”  The typical depiction of Achashverosh is as a simple-minded, gullible moron.

As it turns out, the Book of Esther contains numerous subtle references to other books of the Tanakh that suggest a far more critical take on Achashverosh..

In the first chapter alone, we find allusions to the Books of Kings, Jonah, and Genesis.  Achashverosh, it turns out, is a power hungry, self-centered, and abusive man.

Chapter one of the Book of Esther serves as a prologue to the rest of the story.  It introduces us to the Persian court, and explains how it is that King Achashverosh finds himself in need of a new Queen.  This sets the stage for introducing the villain Haman, as well as the rise of the heroes Mordechai and Esther who will orchestrate the rescue of the Jewish people.

It starts with the mother of all parties.  In the third year of his reign, Achashverosh proclaims a celebration to last one hundred eighty days.  He invites all of the nobleman and governors from the one hundred twenty seven provinces of his empire.  All of the riches of the kingdom are put on display.  For the final seven days, the invitation is extended to every resident of Shushan, “from high to low.”  Achashverosh orders the wine to be poured without limit, but instructs his stewards to respect the wishes of each individual, implying that if someone does not want to drink, his feelings should be honored.

We get the impression of a benevolent king.  It seems on the surface that the author admires him, as he describes the treasures put on display with exuberant language.  We can picture in our minds the wine flowing into the golden goblets, and happy citizens enjoying each other’s company.  He is generously sharing the wealth of his kingdom with his loyal subjects.

As I just mentioned, this feast occurs in the third year of Achashverosh’s reign.  In the third year of Solomon’s reign, he removes the final threat to his ascension to the throne by executing a Benjaminite named Shimi ben Gera.  His kingship secure, Solomon has a prophetic dream in which God asks him what he wants.  Solomon responds, “Grant… Your servant an understanding mind to judge Your people, to distinguish between good and bad…”  (I Kings 3:9)

So impressed with Solomon’s request, God responds, “Because you asked for this – you did not ask for riches, you did not ask for the life of your enemies, but you asked for discernment in dispensing justice – I now do as you have spoken.  I grant you a wise and discerning mind… And I also grant you what you did not ask for – both riches and glory all your life – the like of which no king has ever had…”  (I Kings 3:11-13)

After this dream, Solomon goes up to Jerusalem, where he offers sacrifices to God and then throws a feast for all of his servants.

There are a couple of connections between Solomon’s and Achashverosh’s feasts.  Both occur after three years of reign.  The language for both is nearly identical.  Va-ya’as mishteh l’khol avadav – “He made a banquet for all his courtiers” – in the case of Solomon.  (I Kings 3:15)  Asah mishteh l’khol sarav va’avadav – “He made a banquet for all his officials and courtiers” – in the case of  Achashverosh.  (Esther 1:3)

Furthermore, God promises Solomon that he will be rewarded with osher and kavod – riches and glory – all the days of his life.  Achashverosh puts on display osher k’vod malkhuto, “the rich glory of his kingdom.”  (Esther 1:4)

Solomon, in making his request for wisdom and discernment, chooses to forego riches and glory, yet God awards him with those anyways.  In contrast, Achashverosh deliberately shows off his riches and glory, thereby displaying his lack of wisdom and discernment.

Solomon’s feast is a celebration of God’s blessing.  He honors his loyal courtiers by including them, the true act of a wise and discerning mind.  Achashverosh’s feast is a celebration of his own royal person.  By extravagantly showing off his wealth, he reveals the emptiness of his reign.

The midrash picks up on this connection between Solomon and Achashverosh.  Solomon’s throne, carved of solid ivory, is captured and recaptured until it eventually winds up in the possession of the Persians.  When Achashverosh attempts to sit in it, he is unable.  He is told, “no one who is not ruler over the whole world can sit on it.”  So he commissions a replica to be made that, according to the midrash, is a poor copy of the original.

The next clue occurs in the guest list.  To the seven day party for the common-folk, the invitation is extended l’migadol v’ad katan – “from the greatest until the least.”  (Esther 1:5)  Usually, the expression is the opposite, from the least to the greatest.  In only one other book of the Bible is it “from the greatest until the least” – the Book of Jonah.

Jonah, you will remember, is a reluctant prophet sent to Nineveh to announce that God will destroy the city and its inhabitants unless the people repent.  After unsuccessfully trying to shirk his duty, Jonah eventually fulfills his mission.  To his distress, the Ninevites respond immediately.

The people of Nineveh believed God. They proclaimed a fast, and great and small alike – mig’dolam v’ad k’tanam – put on sackcloth.  When the news reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, took off his robe, put on sackcloth, and sat in ashes.  And he had the word cried through Nineveh: “By decree of the king and his nobles: No man or beast—of flock or herd—shall taste anything! They shall not graze, and they shall not drink water!  (Jonah 3:5-7)

Both references of “from the greatest to the least” refer to the relationship between a King and his subjects.  In the case of the King of Nineveh, the expression is one of great humility.  The king himself gets off of his throne.  He orders everyone in the city to repent and to fast.  They must join him in removing their clothes and putting on sackcloth and ashes.  And he orders that they drink nothing whatsoever.  King and subjects have come together in a deep expression of piety, humility, and self-reflection.

In contrast, King Achashverosh ascends his throne, and includes his subjects in his partying in order to raise himself up.  He puts on his finest royal robes and brings out all of his wealth.  And he orders that the drinks should flow without limit, although nobody should be forced.

In making this allusion, perhaps our narrator is hinting that Achashverosh ought to take heed to the humble example of the King of Nineveh.  If not, he suggests, the city of Shushan, and indeed the entire Perisan Empire, may soon see its demise.

Our final clue is in the episode with Vashti.  She has thrown a separate party for the women.  To mix with the men during their drunken revelry would be incredibly inappropriate, according to the social mores of the day.  Considering what the men were up to, it would have likely also been dangerous.  Plus, the men really do not want their wives around, given what is taking place.

Nevertheless, on the final day of the celebrations, Achashverous sends a messenger to summon Vashti to appear before all of his guests in her crown.  A midrash suggests that the implied message is that she is to appear in her crown, and in nothing else.  Regardless of whether the royal decree includes clothing or not, it is an inappropriate request, but one that she cannot refuse without repercussions.

He wants to show her off, just like he has shown off all his other precious treasures.  Given the inebriated state of his guests, it is likely that Vashti’s ordeal would not simply end after her making an appearance.  She refuses, again through messengers.  This domestic dispute, by taking place in public, has been elevated to the level of state.

Traditional commentaries about Vashti depict her as wicked in some fashion, or describe her refusal to appear at the King’s summons as being embarrassment at an acute onset of leprosy, or the sudden sprouting of a tail.  The rabbinic desire to demean Vashti is perhaps a way to raise up our impression of Esther, her replacement.  Even the text itself could be understood as being critical of her.  After all, she refuses a royal order and then is banished from the kingdom at the advice of the King’s advisors.  Then we never hear about her again.

There is a subtle clue, however, that this is not the impression that the narrator intends for us.  Vashti is described as being beautiful – ki tovat-mar’eh hi.  And when she is summoned, she refuses – va-t’ma’en ha-malkah Vashti.  This leads to her being banished from the King’s palace.

Similar things are said about an earlier biblical figure.  Joseph is also described as being beautiful – va-y’hi Yosef y’feh toar vifat ma’eh.  After his master Potifar’s wife tries to seduce him, he refuses – va-y’ma’en.  She then lies to her husband about him, and Joseph is banished from his master’s house.

When we read about Vashti’s beauty, the request made of her, her refusal, and her banishment, we are meant to think back to the similar pattern having once taken place with Joseph.  This should tell us something about the moral fortitude of these characters.  Through allusion, the narrator hints of his approval of Vashti’s unwillingness to be demeaned despite the consequences that she knows she will face.  The narrator takes Vashti’s side.  Achasherosh is a drunken boor.

As you can see, there is much beneath the surface in the Megillah.  While the book is a satire from nearly two and a half thousand years ago, it’s exaggerated characters display traits that are all too familiar in the twenty first century.  We have seen that, through a close reading of the first chapter in its biblical context, Achashverosh is far more selfish, power-hungry, and abusive than he is typically depicted.  The narrator artfully uses storytelling to teach us something about human behavior, showing us how the actions of individuals can have reverberations that affect the fate of entire nations.

As we read the Megillah this week, make merry, and raise a glass in l’chayim, let us also pay close attention to the characters of Purim and find how their behavior, their positive and negative traits, their correct and incorrect decisions, their heroic and cowardly acts reverberate through the rest of the Tanakh and through our lives.

Bibliography:  http://etzion.org.il/vbm/english/archive/ester/03ester.htm#_ftnref14