This Purim, Esther and Mordechai Would Like to Have a Word with You

In anticipation of writing this year’s Purim column, I realized that I am hopelessly ambivalent about Purim 5785. Last year was difficult enough. But considering the unimaginable pain that collective Jewry, and especially Israelis, have faced in the past few weeks in particular, we can hardly be blamed for wanting to sit this Purim out. 

But stepping back would entirely miss the point of this special holiday. After all, Purim is a ritualized observance of a time when vicious antisemites were annihilated, and Jews were saved and redeemed through a hidden miracle. Between pager mishaps in Lebanon that destroyed Jew-haters, and miraculously empty buses filled with explosives in Israel, that sounds like the essence of Purim to me. 

Each year, I ask myself what I could write about Purim that I have not written before. That includes many past lamentations over the fact that hamantaschen does not have to be the de facto Purim treat, because, until the mid-20th century, half of world Jewry had never even heard of it. And that includes Iranian Jews, who live in the same land as the Purim story took place!

Recently, I began paying closer attention to the multitude of Jews that exist in the world (me included). So many types of Jews: the Trump lovers, and the ones who wouldn’t hesitate to run over Trump in a semi-lit alley. The observant Jews, and the ones who still don’t believe that oatmeal constitutes chametz during Passover. The Oct. 8 Jews, and the ones who would be more interested in touring a Libyan prison than setting foot in Israel.

Twenty-five hundred years ago, when G-d saved the Jewish people from genocide in the ancient Persian provinces, He must have done so because He saw something in us that was worth saving. Also, He had promised us that we would one day become a great nation (and that there would be no more Noah-style floods). For over 3,000 years, we’ve gently reminded G-d of the age-old kindergartener proverb: No takesies backsies.

Twenty-five hundred years ago, when G-d saved the Jewish people from genocide in the ancient Persian provinces, He must have done so because He saw something in us that was worth saving.

When Mordechai famously informed Esther that if she did not save her people, salvation would arrive nevertheless, and that perhaps she had been born to lead at such a moment, he must have seen something worthy in his fellow Jews. It made me wonder whether Jews in 2025/5785 could look our ancient Mordechai and Queen Esther in the eyes and truthfully answer a few questions. 

This is not to say that Jews today (or ever) need to prove they are worthy — worthy of life, safety, freedom and basic human dignity. We are worthy because we are here; we are not here because we are worthy. A Jew’s basic worth requires no justification. It does not have to be earned.

Still, I often wonder if we have squandered what Esther and Mordechai begged and fought for, and Jews around the world died to preserve. If the heroes of our sacred Purim Megillah could visit us today, here is what they might ask:

Question #1: Do you stop to recognize the ongoing miracles that G-d has provided for the Jewish people?

On Thursday, February 20, three public buses exploded in Bat Yam and Holon, in central Israel. Bomb disposal units found at least two other devices, still unexploded, as well as other suspicious objects. The bombs were set to rip through the public transport vehicles at 9 a.m. Friday morning, just in time for rush hour. Instead, a vigilant young woman reported one of the devices to a bus driver, the vehicles were emptied, and they mistakenly exploded at 9 p.m. Hamas was believed to bear responsibility.

This was one of the greatest miracles in the last several decades of Israeli history. On the same dark day that we learned that Hamas had murdered Shiri, Ariel and Kfir Bibas, and 84-year-old Oded Lifshitz, scores of Israelis could have been mass-murdered on or near many buses. 

Did most Jews worldwide even know about this unbelievable miracle? Did most of the ones who knew even bat an eye? And did those who immediately recognized the miracle and thanked G-d return to their normal, hectic lives a few minutes after, including many Israelis themselves?

Miracles are like good weather; when they occur, we seldom notice. It is only in their absence that we finally realize their precious impact on our lives. The Jews who were saved in the Persian provinces during the time of Esther and Mordechai consecrated their miracle by proclaiming fast days and Purim observance each year. Over two millennia later, we still consecrate this miracle.  

Miracles are like good weather; when they occur, we seldom notice. 

Question #2: Did you distance yourself from your people and your eternal homeland, but to no avail?

Want to grasp the imminent fate that has befallen nearly all Jews who, throughout history, have walked away from their own and tried to win the hearts of their enemies, from ancient Egypt to today’s Israel-loathing Jews? Perhaps this fatalistic pattern can be encapsulated in a recent Facebook post in which someone wrote the words of a famous Jewish actor who declared that he had been told what he claimed were lies about the Jewish state. The post features his photo and his words: “As a Jewish person, I was fed a huge amount of lies about Israel my whole life.”

One would think that such an admission would satiate our enemies, that it would placate those who have long thought that millions of Jewish children were brainwashed about their own history and connection to the land of Israel. Now this was their preferred Jew. They could have adorned his head with a crown of shrapnel from Hezbollah. 

Not exactly. 

The top comment in response to that post came from someone named Mohamed, who wrote to the Jewish actor, “OK man. Now go to Poland please.”

And there you have it. 

On February 21, the day we learned that Hamas choked Ariel Bibas — four years old when he was kidnapped — and his baby brother, Kfir, who was only 10 months old — to death,  there were still Jews around the world, especially in America, who did not know, or who knew, but went about their lives because their Jewish identity probably ranked eleventh on their Top Ten List of Self-Identification, most likely falling somewhere after their preference for tacos over pizza. 

That night, they joined co-workers and friends at happy hour, dinner, movies and other activities. No one demanded that they remain home and mourn. But it would have been nice if they had acted remotely stoic while at work (or at the bar or the restaurant). Perhaps someone would have asked them if something was wrong. Perhaps they would have said that because they are Jewish, even in name, on that day, they were not okay. 

Question #3: Do you carve out time to discover what it really means to be a Jew?

If only I had experienced even one day of formal Jewish education as a child, I wouldn’t have been left with the Jewish knowledge of a second grader in my early 20s. I did not know who I was. Worse, I could hardly explain myself to others. 

One of the reasons I am often in awe of converts to Judaism is that unlike those who were born Jewish, converts took the time and effort to learn what it means to be a Jew. Sometimes it seems that we spend more time settling on what we are going to watch on streaming services than learning anything related to Judaism. In fact, a 2024 survey of 2,000 Americans who subscribe to streaming services found that, on average, we spend 110 hours per year scrolling and searching for something to watch.  

If I had invested 110 hours in learning Hebrew, I could have yelled back at every Israeli cab driver, motorist, pedestrian, shawarma stall line cook, waiter, busboy, and government coalition member by now. Instead, I spent that time deciding whether to watch “Twins” or “Sixteen Candles” on Netflix. I don’t know how I will ever explain that one to Esther or Mordechai.

Tabby Refael is an award-winning writer, speaker and weekly columnist for The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Follow her on X and Instagram @TabbyRefael.