Today was Ta’anit Esther, the fast that precedes Purim. It is a good time to reflect on the meaning of Megillat Esther, its place in the Bible, and the lessons it offers beyond the salvation of the People of Israel...no less.
Megillat Esther is part of Ketuvim, the final section of the Tanakh. It is the only book in which God is not explicitly mentioned. And yet, it was included in the biblical canon—the compilation that determined which books would form part of the Tanakh, the Hebrew Bible—because it reveals hidden Hashgacha Pratit (Divine Providence): God does not act in an overtly visible way, but He is present in history through events, decisions, and, above all, human actions.
Purim is celebrated on the 14th of Adar. However, if you live in Jerusalem, in the city of Shushan (where the Purim story took place), or in any walled city, Purim is observed on the 15th of Adar. This alternate celebration is called Shushan Purim.
This peculiarity stems from a small detail in the Purim story as told in the Book of Esther: Haman conspired to have the Jews of Persia annihilated on the 13th of Adar. However, after Mordechai and Esther exposed his plot, the king ordered Haman’s execution and issued a new decree allowing the Jews to defend themselves on that day. It was not only Haman’s death but also the Jewish people rising up—with the king’s permission—to punish those who had supported his plan to destroy the People of Israel. It is no surprise that the Jews were able to overcome their enemies.
Queen Esther then established Purim as a festival to be observed on the day following the Jews’ permitted self-defense. This distinction is crucial: Purim does not celebrate a military victory, but rather the day of joy and feasting that followed. That is why Purim is celebrated on the 14th of Adar, not the 13th.
The text tells us that in Shushan, the capital, the king allowed the Jews to continue defending themselves for one more day. They fought their enemies on both the 13th and 14th of Adar. The Book of Esther carefully explains that Purim could not be celebrated in Shushan until the 15th. On that day, the Jews of the capital followed the example of the Jews in the unwalled cities of the kingdom by "sending gifts to one another” (Esther 9:12-19).
This is why Purim is still celebrated one day later in Shushan, Jerusalem, and any walled city. Today, Jews in Jerusalem read the Megillah with its blessings and exchange mishloach manot, gifts of food, with friends.
Shushan Purim carries an important lesson. We must be clear about why we celebrate. The date of the holiday was adjusted to prevent even the appearance that we are rejoicing over the downfall of our enemies.
True joy is not about triumphalism. We do not rejoice in Haman’s death. Rather, our greatest celebrations are always rooted in gratitude. We wait one day after our temporary victory and then rejoice. We celebrate by laying down our weapons and delivering a bag of cookies to our neighbors' homes.
But this joy is not a carnival. Unlike festivals where costumes, revelry, and uninhibited behavior serve to hide one’s identity, Purim is about reaffirming it. It is not about losing oneself, but about recognizing that things are not always as they seem. Purim teaches us that what is hidden can be just as powerful as what is revealed.
The women in the story illustrate this tension between the concealed and the exposed. Vashti is punished for refusing to reveal herself. Esther, on the other hand, hides her identity until the right moment to reveal it. Her story teaches us that the power of action does not always lie in what is visible, but in strategy and timing.
Now, how can we celebrate at this moment, when 59 hostages remain in the hands of Hamas? How can we speak of joy when families are still waiting? Purim confronts us with this dilemma. That is why we celebrate even when those who have fallen are the ones who pursued our destruction. The story of the Megillah does not deny tragedy—it acknowledges it. It tells us that the Jewish people have faced existential threats before, and despite everything, we have persevered. We celebrate because we still exist, because we are still here, and because joy, even in dark times, is an act of resistance.
It is no coincidence that Haman, the enemy in the Purim story, is a descendant of Agag, king of Amalek. Amalek represents irrational hatred—the kind of persecution that exists for no reason other than the annihilation of the Jewish people. Today, Hamas embodies that same hatred. Purim teaches us that memory is not only about recalling the past, but about remaining vigilant in the present.
The Megillah conveys a clear message: salvation does not arrive by miracle. The concealment of HaKadosh Baruch Hu does not mean He is absent; it means that we are responsible for changing our destiny, for making miracles happen. Miracles occur when people take action, when they refuse to surrender, when they, like Esther, understand that they are in this world "for such a time as this."
But, it is not just about Purim.
We are reading this Shabbat Parshat Ki-Tisá. It confronts us with one of the most heartbreaking moments in the history of our People's formation and consolidation after the exodus from Egypt: the breaking of the Tablets of the Law.
When Moses descends from Mount Sinai and sees the people worshiping the Golden Calf, he shatters the tablets.I believe he does so not only out of anger but because he understands that, at that very moment, the covenant itself is broken.
The shattered tablets symbolize a fractured relationship, a betrayed trust, and a definitive before and after with no way back.
Moses, however, does not remain in the ruins of what once was. He climbs the mountain once again, pleads, fights, and descends with a second set of tablets.
They are not the same, but they carry the same essence. They are proof that even in the midst of rupture, there is a possibility for reconstruction.
We are not the same. We carry memory, pain, and hope.
Perhaps today, celebration feels difficult, but we do not surrender. Like Moses, we continue carving our history upon the stone of resilience.
This year, Purim challenges us. It compels us to find meaning in our celebration, to remember, to honor, and to move forward.
May we transform memory into action and action into the future.
May we raise our voices, stand up, and inspire those who have not yet found the courage to act and create change, making this world a better place.
Once again, Tikkun Olam.
Rabbi Geier