It’s Purim all over again — and we stand with G-d

Every year, as the festival of Purim approaches, you hear people reminding one another of the Torah’s allusion to the fact that Purim is even greater than Yom Kippur: The Torah calls Yom Kippur “Yom Kippurim,” which can be understood as “a day like Purim”; Yom Kippur is holy and important, sort of “like” Purim, but not quite there.

Why would we say that the boisterous, fun Purim holiday outranks the solemn and sublime day of Yom Kippur? How could that possibly be?

Yom Kippur, in addition to being the universally familiar day of atonement for sins, has historic significance as well. Yom Kippur is the day G-d signed off on His forgiveness for our having worshipped a golden calf 40 days after the revelation at Mount Sinai. After months of repentance and prayer, we finally received a full, joyful, Divine pardon on Yom Kippur, and along with it, a fresh set of Ten Commandments. (And that is why Yom Kippur became the ultimate and eternal day of atonement.)

Get The Jewish Chronicle Weekly Edition by email and never miss our top stories Free Sign Up

Seen this way, Yom Kippur is the final paragraph in the final chapter of the story of G-d giving us the Torah at Mount Sinai. What’s unique about that grand tale of awesome revelation is that it was largely one-sided. G-d did all the work. He brought us out of Egypt, He ran us through the sea, He gave us provisions in the wilderness, He ushered us to the foot of Mount Sinai, He told us He wanted to give the Torah, He revealed Himself to us, He proclaimed the Ten Commandments, and He chose us, in grand, dramatic fashion!

And we just stood there, blinking in disbelief, completely overwhelmed by the fact the Creator Himself had swooped in, lifted us off the trash heap of Egyptian slavery culture, cleaned us off, and assigned us royal status by declaring us His chosen ones for all time. One can imagine that when G-d asked us, amid all the drama, if we were in agreement and willing to become His People, it probably took us a moment to even realize He was talking to us, that He was asking us something and waiting for our answer. Still amazed by all the attention, we replied, “Naaseh V’Nishma!” — which literally means we’ll do and study whatever you say,” and also sounds something like, “Are you kidding us? Yes, of course!”

Suffice it to say we were swept off our collective feet. And therefore the unspoken question lingered: How would we do when the shock wore off, when the honeymoon ended, so to speak? When the thunder died down and the lightning faded out, when the drama ended, when we came back to earth, the manna stopped falling and the miracles ran out one by one — how would we feel then about being His chosen ones?

And then, when things really go south, when things don’t just go from extraordinary to ordinary, but from ordinary to horrific, how would we feel then about being His chosen ones?

When being chosen no longer means free rides on the wings of eagles but instead open season on Jews, how would we feel then about our chosen status?

As Jewish history unfolded, the first real test of that great question was the story of Purim. When Jerusalem fell and Israel was in exile far from home, and the mighty king happily signed the evil Haman’s Jewish extinction order, when no help was in sight and no hope was to be had, the question was asked, and the Jews would now respond. How did we feel then about being Jewish, about being G-d’s chosen ones?

With the way we defied Haman and pushed back on his decree, and with the way we united around Mordechai and Esther, rediscovering our smoldering Jewish sparks of faith and pride, we showed that we felt fine about being G-d’s. With nothing to gain by being Jewish and everything to lose, not a single Jew crossed over to Haman’s side throughout all 11 months from the start of his decree until its demise.

It was a monumental test, one that would either make or break the validity of our ancient pledge of allegiance at Mount Sinai, and we passed with flying colors.

G-d started it at Mount Sinai and we completed it at Purim. Whatever questions remained after the ecstasies and agonies of the Sinaic revelation, the fall and the recovery, the crime and the pardon — Purim answered them all. Whatever remained untested after Yom Kippur was tested and proven on Purim. What Yom Kippur could not attest to, Purim did.

As we celebrate the second Purim after Oct. 7, 2023, we proved ourselves once again. The might and faith of the hostages who describe growing closer to G-d and their own Judaism while in captivity — they proved it for all of us. They proved once again that we were never in it for the benefits — we were in it for Him. The bliss of Mount Sinai was wonderful, but that’s not what we were betting on. We pledged ourselves to G-d for the same reason He pledged Himself to us: love.

And if that means we have a giant target on our backs, so be it. It’s worth it. We choose Him, come hell or high water. Haters gonna hate; we’re going to be Jewish. We stand with G-d because we are His partners, and we will not walk away from Him, even in Gaza, even in hell. It’s Purim all over again. And all over again, we have validated the commitments and vows of our ancestors. About 3,300 years ago they said we would stick to it no matter what, and in our generation, we are doing just that.

Happy Purim! PJC

Rabbi Moishe Mayir Vogel is executive director of The Aleph Institute – North East Region. This column is a service of the Vaad Harabonim of Greater Pittsburgh.