From the Rabbi’s Study
Purim: Life Needs Farce and Fantasy
The Scroll of Esther (M’gilat Ester) contains a melodramatic tale of court intrigue, not unlike what one might find in the Arabian Nights. The outlines of its story are well-known, but in reading the tale, questions abound.
- Why does Vashti refuse to come before King Achash-vei-rosh?
- Why is Esther told to keep her identity a secret?
- Why is Mordecai not immediately rewarded for saving the king’s life?
- Why does Mordecai alone refuse to bow down to Haman?
The literary answer is that without these contrivances the plot (apparently) would not reach its grand conclusion. The Scroll, then, may be best read as a comedy, a great farcical fantasy.
So in the opening chapter the king and his advisers decided that they have to get rid of Queen Vashti in order to keep all the wives in Persia obedient to their husbands. Really? Mutually agreed upon legal arrangements on structuring family life were not considered in pre-feminist Persia. So what could be more farcical than a group of men issuing a decree that their wives must obey them!
King Achash-vei-rosh chooses his new queen through a beauty contest that lasts well over a year. Today we might think of the power of media and advertising to turn modern elections into popularity contests more than thoughtful national discussions of policy and governance. Yet, what could be more savagely funny, even sardonic, than imagining a king using a beauty contest as the forum to choose Queen Vashti’s successor.
Even the idea of dressing up for Purim receives “sanction” in the Scroll of Esther. Esther the orphan, lowest on the social hierarchy, dresses up like a queen; Mordechai the Jew dons royal garb. See Jews dressing up like Persian royalty! What could be more fantastic!
The late biblical scholar H.L. Ginsberg, of blessed memory, surmised that the name of G!d nowhere appears in the Book of Esther–and in some places it is shockingly odd that it does not–because it would be irreverent to mention G!d in such a comic, carnivalesque, setting. He surmises that the story did not lead to the creation of the holiday, but, rather, the holiday led to the creation of the story! An early celebration of Purim, Dr. Ginsberg asserts, induced someone to write the story. If so, the Scroll of Esther was the first of a genre of Jewish literature, the Purim parody, written for what was perhaps the first Purimspiel.
It is certainly true that Jews have traditionally read the Scroll in a Mardi Gras-like context. Religious Jews have always taken the book and the holiday as fun, farce, and fantasy (even though until modern times some have supposed some historical background to it).
Jews have suffered the cruel caprice of and persecution by Gentiles time after time. On Purim we have permitted ourselves the fantasy of imagining ourselves in the Gentile role and the Gentiles in the Jewish role. Rather than our enemies attacking us, in the Megillah, we get the better of them. As Mordechai replaces Haman in the Persian administration, we replace a culture of antisemitism, with a realm of justice and equity. This role-reversal of a fantasy is part of a long line of literature. [We have most recently seen it in Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds.]
So rather than historical reporting, the Scroll of Esther–and the entire holiday of Purim–is designed to help us laugh at the pain in our lives. The dressing up and the mockery are immensely important to a healthful, religious spirit. We get a better hold of ourselves by venting our anxieties and harmlessly airing our fantasies. We can then take a deep breath and start again the day following Purim with refreshed spirit, affirming that bright are the moments of redemption and victory–however few–that we experience along the way.
So it’s time to pick out your costume, feel good, kick back, let loose; a time to masquerade, a time to imagine. Farce and fantasy, Purim promotes, help cleanse the soul.
Hag Purim samei-ach! A joyful, farcical, redemptive Purim!
Rabbi J.B. Sacks