There is a phrase at the heart of the Purim story: nahafokh hu, “it was turned upside down.” The very moment when destruction seemed certain became the moment of redemption. Everything reversed, inside became outside, and the hidden became revealed.
These days, we don’t have to stretch our imaginations far to feel the resonance of this theme — we can simply turn on the news. In our country and our world, so much feels inside out and upside down. Nahafokh hu— we know this feeling.
And yet, the story of Purim has some ancient and hard-won wisdom for us on finding joy and choosing life even when forces of chaos swirl around us.
Consider Queen Esther: she lives inside the palace of a volatile King, hiding her identity, navigating a world of power and danger. The wicked Haman has decreed the destruction of her people, and Mordechai tells us she must go before the king uninvited, an act punishable by death, to plead for their lives.
Esther hesitates, and Morchedai says to her, “U’mi yodea im l’eit kazot higa’at l’malkhut?”— “and who knows whether it was for such a time as this that you attained your royal position?” (Esther 4:14).
Who knows? Maybe you were made for this moment.
Hard times create a doorway into a deeper sense of courage and purpose that comfortable times simply do not require of us. Esther could have stayed silent to protect herself. Instead, she fasted for three days, gathered her strength, and stepped forward into her purpose. Perhaps the moments where we feel most tempted to hide are precisely the moments we were placed here to meet.
On a deeper level, Esther’s story is one about a human response to the experience of divine concealment. One of the most interesting things about the Book of Esther is that God’s name does not appear in it. The very name Esther is understood by the rabbis as connected to the Hebrew word hester — hiddenness. Hester panim, the hiding of God’s face.
And yet our tradition teaches that within this hiddenness, the divine is even more present. Perhaps this is because when God’s face is hidden, the opportunity is created for us to bring sanctity into the world, to intervene in profound acts of courage and love, and to create miracles among ourselves. In hard times, when the presence of God is difficult to perceive, we must find love and goodness within ourselves and share it with one another. We become the revelation.
This is why the mitzvot of Purim are so deeply relational. Mishloach manot— sending gifts of food to friends and neighbors. Matanot l’evyonim— giving gifts to those in need. These practices are the spiritual core of this holiday. When the world turns upside down, we take care of one another. We affirm that we are in this together.
And we affirm that life’s preciousness is worth protecting. As Shabbat departs each week, in the bittersweet moment of havdallah, we sing a line drawn from the Megillah itself: “LaYehudim haitah orah v’simcha v’sasson vikar” — “For the Jews there was light and gladness, joy and honor” (Esther 8:16). We sing these words as a reminder — even as the holiness of Shabbat seems to slip away, even as we return to the ordinary and sometimes painful world, these realities have not disappeared. They are still available to us. Light, gladness, joy, and honor are prophecies of a coming future. They are qualities we can invoke and embody right now.
To invoke light, gladness and joy in times of fear is not denial. It is courageous and sacred. When we feel plunged into distortion and chaos, when we feel that everything is upside down and inside out — let us remember this line. Let us remember the future. Let us open to the embrace of the wisdom traditions that have rooted and carried our people though many moments of chaos and upheaval — and will continue to do so.
This Adar, may we find our inner Esther. May we remember the presence of hidden holiness, and the importance of joy in resilience and resistance. May we take care of ourselves and one another with open hearts and hands. And may we have the courage to step forward into the purpose for which we were made.