Purim is a time of joy, feasting, and celebration. But if we stop at the surface, we miss its deeper meaning. Purim is not just about survival—it is about identity. It is about knowing who we are, standing tall as Jews, and refusing to forget what truly matters.
The Megillah tells us, “Lo yichra v’lo yishtachaveh”—“He would not bow and would not prostrate himself” (Esther 3:2). The words are in the future tense. Mordechai was not afraid. He was a Jew in exile, living under the rule of a powerful empire that sought to erase Jewish identity. When everyone bowed to Haman, Mordechai stood tall. Not because it was convenient. Not because it was safe. But because he knew who he was. This was not just a one-time decision. It was a lifelong stance. Mordechai knew that a Jew bends only to Hashem, not to fear, not to pressure, and certainly not to those who seek to erase our identity.
And that is why Haman hated him. Haman could not tolerate a Jew who was proud. A Jew who refused to be absorbed into the empire, to play the game, to blend in. And so, he sought to destroy him and his people.
This is our story, not just then, but now. We live in a world where being an open, proud Jew is not always easy. The pressure to conform, to hide our values, to bow to the culture around us is strong. Sometimes, it feels safer to keep our Jewishness quiet, to fit in, to not make waves.
But Purim teaches us: That is not the Jewish way.
Mordechai did not survive because he bowed. He survived because he stood tall. The Jewish people did not earn their salvation by hiding. They were saved when Esther declared, “Uv’chein avo el hamelech asher lo k’dat”—“I will go to the king, even though it is against the law” (Esther 4:16). She took the risk of standing up for her people. And we must do the same.
The entire Purim story takes place in exile. The Jews of Persia had built lives there. They had homes, businesses, and status. But they were still not home. The greatest proof? They were at the mercy of a single decree. One stroke of the king’s pen, and everything they had built could be taken away.
That is the reality of exile. No matter how comfortable it seems, it is not permanent. No matter how much we invest in other lands, they are not our own. The Jews of Persia learned this in the hardest way possible: one day, they were loyal citizens; the next, they were marked for death.
We must never forget this. Wherever we live, whatever successes we achieve, we have only one home. Eretz Yisrael is not just a place—it is our destiny. It is the center of our identity, the heart of our nation.
Purim is not just a holiday of the past. It is a message for today. Never compromise your Jewish pride. Never bow to fear. Never hide who you are. Stand up for your people, even when it is hard. And no matter where you are in the world, always keep your heart directed toward Jerusalem.
We do not just celebrate Purim—we live it. Every time we wear our Jewish identity with pride, every time we speak up for our people, every time we keep our eyes on the dream of returning to our land, we are fulfilling the message of Purim.
May we see the day when we no longer need to celebrate Jewish survival in exile, but instead, rejoice together in a rebuilt Jerusalem, with the final redemption speedily in our days.
Chag Purim Sameach!
