Amplifying the Light: A Purim Reflection on Power and Responsibility
Tomorrow night, we step into Purim. And while we might be tempted to let go, to revel in the absurdity of the Megillah’s twists and turns, we must remain anchored in the world around us. Because Purim is not just a story from long ago — it is the story we are living right now.
I cannot separate Purim from history, nor from this very moment. Three years ago today, I stood with a group of rabbis on the border of Ukraine and Poland, witnessing the unbearable pain of exile and displacement. We carried medical supplies collected by AFYA, we listened to the stories of those who had lost everything, and we bore witness to resilience in the face of destruction.
This past week, UJA hosted a Solidarity Summit for Ukraine, gathering voices from the ground who reminded us that the suffering is ongoing, the need for support never-ending. How, then, can we speak of Purim without speaking of this? Without grounding ourselves in the urgency of now?
Purim is a paradox. It is the one book in our sacred canon where God is never mentioned, yet it is impossible to read the story without sensing the presence of something greater. It is a tale of coincidences so implausible that they must be miracles, of reversals so radical they force us to question the very nature of reality.
A queen who refuses. A king who is manipulated. A villain who rises. A nation condemned. A decree that cannot be rescinded. A people who defend themselves. And in the end, survival. Victory. Celebration.
But what of the cost? What of the 75,000 lives lost in the Jewish battle for self-defense? What of the fear that drove so many to conversion? Is this the only way? Must we wield power to survive? The Book of Esther offers no easy answers, only piercing questions.
And yet, in the midst of the chaos, there is a verse. A single verse we recite at the end of every Shabbat, drawn from this very Megillah:
“LaYehudim hayta orah v’simcha v’sason v’yikar. Ken tihyeh lanu. — For the Jews, there was light and joy, gladness and honor. So may it be for us. (Esther 8:16)”
Not just for some of us. For all of us. For those still trapped in darkness, in tunnels of despair, in places where war and hatred seem to reign supreme. Purim is not just about laughter and feasting — it is a charge. A call to amplify the light in a world that feels as fragile and chaotic as the one described in the Megillah.
Friends, each of us carries within us a fraction of the Divine. A fraction of infinity (Heschel). And a fraction of infinity is still infinite. So let us shine. Let us hold fast to our traditions, to our joy, and to our responsibility to each other. Let us be the hidden hands of God in a world that so desperately needs them.
Chag Purim Sameach. And may the light of Esther’s courage, of our ancestors’ resilience, and of our unwavering hope shine ever brighter in the days to come.
