So, this cultural reflection is coming late, but there wasn’t a holiday until March 16-17th. (And yes – these dates meant that Purim shared part of its celebration date with St. Patrick’s Day.) Purim is my favorite holiday for none of the reasons you’d expect: it was the first one I ever got to celebrate properly. I started my journey with Judaism shortly before lockdown in 2020, and one of the things that drew me to Judaism – its sense of community – was of course impacted by the lack of ability to gather in person for services and holidays.
Purim celebrates the story of Esther, the wife of a Persian king who hid the fact she was Jewish. The story goes like this: Esther is crowned King Ahasuerus’ queen after winning a beauty contest. She is advised by her uncle, Mordecai, to not reveal that she is Jewish to her husband. He discovers a plot to kill the king and thwarts it, granting him the king’s favor. Haman, the king’s vizier, has a run in with Mordecai and then seeks to destroy all Jews. Haman puts this plan in place, and Mordecai begs Esther to entreat the king for her people, citing Haman as the mastermind of the scheme. The king grants Esther’s request; Haman dies, and his forces are used to kill those who were going to kill Jews.
Now, when looking at it historically, we can see that there probably wasn’t a genocide of Persians, and it’s likely just a fable meant to teach us a lesson, which adds some levity to the story. It’s also much lighter when you look at the celebrations for Purim; the notion that everything is upside-down is very much a part of the tradition. You make hamantaschen, a triangular butter cookie that is said to be shaped that way due to Haman’s extremely large ears (pictured below, with fig jam!). You dress in costumes and masks to hide your identity. You tell the story of Purim, often in the form of a group story, play, or song, and every time the name “Haman” is said, people shout and make noise to cover up his name. And in the theme of the topsy-turvy holiday, another tradition is to drink to the point where “you cannot tell the difference between Haman and Mordechai”, because all people have a bit of both in them.
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