Reflections on the Megillat Esther this Purim
Megillat Esther on Sexism and “Who is a Jew?”
If you really paid attention to the Megillat Esther this Purim, they would have noticed a few important things about it. First is the fact that the work is extremely pro-Woman. The text literally mocks sexism at every turn. The sexist King is depicted as viewing women as objects for his gratification as well as sexual and egotistic satisfaction. When Queen Esther approaches him, it is always with great trepidation, always bearing in mind the fate of poor Vashti before her. She approaches the King, always with exaggerative respect, always repeating over and over phrases like “if it pleases the King” and such ad absurdum. Related to this pro-Woman position of the Megillah, we find a striking anti-materialism stance that even mocks the Persian obsession with cosmetics, saying that young virgins had make-up applied for no less than half a year (2.12) before being presented to the King!
The Megillat Esther furthermore demolishes the misguided and unhalakhic notion that Jewishness is a race. It points out (as the Talmud teaches from it) that a Benyamini (אִישׁ יְמִינִי, Ish Yamini) Mordecai was a Jew (יְהוּדִי) or Yehudi (2.5). It says this over and over and over, calling him “Mordecai the Jew” and “the Jew Mordecai” so many times that it starts to sound ridiculous. This makes it clear that even though he was not ancestrally of the Tribe of Judah, he was a Yehudi because he was a true “Praiser of Yah”.
The Torah tells us that “Yahadut” (the real Hebrew term for “Judaism” is not an “ism” or schism) is linguistically a form “Yehudah” (יְהוּדָה) the son of Israel and that this name came from “Praise” (odeh אודה) and God, or “YHVH” (יהוה), or simply “Yah” (יה). A “Yehudi” is “One who praises Yah.” The Talmud teaches that this refers not to an ism-schism, but to pure monotheism that anyone in the world can become.
Furthermore, it says that in one day, “many Persians” simply “became Jews” (מִתְיַהֲדִים, mityahadim). Some have tried to translate this “pretended to be Jews” as it can also literally be rendered “acted Jewish” as much as it can be rendered “became Jews.” The reality is that the Talmud says mityahadim means they became self-converted proselyte Jews. So confusion only arrises if we disregard the teachings of the ancient sages.
We further know that the sages were correct because the very next chapter begins right after by saying that the Jews suddenly had become a formidable force against the mobs that were coming after them (composed of both men and women, not unlike the mobs of Krystalnacht). But the tables had turned precisely because of this mass of giyurim (“conversions” but literally “naturalizations” into Jewry) by “many Persians” (8.17) We also find in this a linguistic lesson, that to “act Jewish” is to “become Jews”; perfectly in accordance with what the Talmud teaches on this matter.
Later rabbis too agreed that this was in fact a mass-conversion of the Persian people, just as the Talmud teaches and as the plain, grammatical reading of the Megillah indicates. Rabbi Moshe Isserles, the Rama (1530 – 1572) writes:
Fear of the Jews had fallen upon them (8.17) or, “that which the Jews feared fell upon them ” [means that] the awe of Heaven experienced by the Jews was of such intensity that it infused even their countrymen, inspiring them to convert.
That is not, however, then end of this subject. The Talmud, tractate Shabbat tells us an important detail. This was not simply an addition to the Jewish people, this was the beginning of the resurrection of Yahadut. The infusion of new life and new blood into the Jewish people literally revived it.
The Jews established and accepted (9.27) Before giving the Jews the Torah, Ha’Shem held the Mountain over them like a vat and said to them, “If you accept the Torah, fine; if not, your burial place will be there.” But they accepted it again [voluntarily and reviving what had been dormant] in the days of Achashverosh, as it says, “The Jews established and accepted” [meaning that] they established in the days of Achashverosh what they had already accepted at Sinai. (Shabbat 88a)
The question this obviously raises is, when Judaism seems to have withered, and when we noticed exclusive attitudes prevailing in some communities, and even racism in others, might these two phenomenons be linked? The Talmud is clean on the authentic Jewish position here.
Megillat Esther and Dynamic Halakhah?
The Megillat Esther tells us that at the banquet in Shoshan (1.6), there were fine hangings of mixed linen and wool. Rabbi `Ovadyah Maimuni, the grandson of the Rambam tells us that in fact the Torah’s prohibition on mixing linen and wool was because this was a custom of the idolatry amongst the nations (Al-Maqalat al-Chawdiyyah, Chapter 7). From what we see in the Megillat Esther, we can deduces that this was more specifically idolatry tied up with royalty. Perhaps even, we might extrapolate, that this was the idolatry of royalty; of believing one is above another. We do see, in fact, that Rabbi `Ovadyah Maimuni uses the Judeo-Arabic term shirk that was used in just such a way by the Sufis.
This kilayim shatnez was an extravagance that we were to avoid and it was thus prohibited to us by the Torah. The story tells us that “There were hangings of white, fine cotton, and tekhelet (תְּכֵלֶת, “blue”), bordered with cords of fine linen and purple wool (אַרְגָּמָן), upon silver rods and pillars of marble; the couches were of gold and silver, upon a pavement of green, and white, and shell, and onyx marble.”
What does this sound like? It is clearly very much like a tallit and the four corners of tzitziyot, minus the dyed purple argaman (אַרְגָּמָן) wool. It would seem that Rabbi `Ovadyah Maimuni was on to something, as to the prohibition in the Torah against mixing linen and wool in one garment.
Speak unto the Children of Israel, and instruct them that they make them throughout their generations tzitzit (צִיצִת) fringes in the corners of their [four-cornered] garments, and that they put with the fringe of each corner a thread of tekhelet (תְּכֵלֶת, “blue”). (Bamidbar/Numbers 15.38)
Additionally, Vayiqra’ tells us “You will not mix kilayim shatnez (hybrid) garments [of wool and linen]” (וּבֶגֶד כִּלְאַיִם שַׁעַטְנֵז, לֹא יַעֲלֶה עָלֶיךָ) (Leviticus 19.19) and Devarim says: “Do not wear hybrid garments of wool and linen together.” (לֹא תִלְבַּשׁ שַׁעַטְנֵז, צֶמֶר וּפִשְׁתִּים יַחְדָּו) (Devarim 22.11). As we have seen from Esther (1.6), the opulence of royalty was epitomized in the kilayim shatnez. But this is not all that the Megillat Esther has to say about this issue. A surprising twist to the story tells us of the elevation of Mordecai to authority, replacing the evil Haman.
And Mordecai went forth from the presence of the king in royal apparel of blue and white, and with a great crown of gold, and with a robe of fine linen and purple wool; and the city of Shushan shouted and was glad. (8.15)
In Bava Metziah we see that the term for purple, argamon (אַרְגָּמָן) is defined as purple wool. We see then that Rabbi `Ovadyah Maimuni was absolutely right about the reason for this prohibition, and we also see that the reason for the wearing of tzitzit was to remind us that in the sight of Ha’Shem, those who fulfill the mitzvot are in fact royalty. Thus we read “All the Children of Israel are like sons of kings” (Shabbat 111a). We then have the “royal apparel of blue and white” as well as, ideally in the historical context, the color of tekhelet as one string in each tzitzit. But the kilayim shatnez was a sign of opulence which we were forbidden outside of the context of Temple service. So why then do we read here, in the very story that acknowledges this, that towards its conclusion Mordecai wore a royal garment that was mixed with wool and linen?
What we then can note is that Esther too was in a position where her actions were not ideal – not the standard that one should live up to in terms of who one should marry – but she made a judgment call, as did Mordacai, that the lesser violation could contextually be incurred, relative to the situation. Ideally, would Esther have wanted to marry the King? The Megillah paints a pretty ridiculous picture of this feble, sexist and easily swayed man.
The Talmud itself tells us that Esther was already married to her cousin (2.15) Mordecai (Megillah 13a), a common practice in the Middle East and the Ancient world in general. The Megillah then shows at numerous points that Esther was literally being raped under coercion by the King, and that long periods of time would go between her having sex with him. Vashti, after all, was ordered to be killed due to having rejected the King’s advances. The Talmud tells us that Mordecai and Esther would secretly rendezvous between these periods of sexual activity, after Esther had made tevillah in a miqvah.
The Torah tells us that “You shall observe My statutes and My ordinances, which a man shall do and live by them.” (Vayiqra’/Leviticus 18.5) This indicates that we are to thrive by the mitzvot, not perish by them. If they become a threat to us, we are under no obligation to keep them while the threat is imminent, but we may chose to do so and become martyred. There is no obligation to be martyred, and it seems that Mordecai saw the Hand of God at work even in this grievous oppression, when he says: “Who knows, maybe you were put into this situation for just this reason” (4.14) of using it to manipulate the King and liberate the Jewish people. Had she chosen death instead of life, she would have caused the death of the Jewish people of Persia and possibly spelled the end of the Jewish people altogether!
Thus, we should consider a possibility regarding the attire of Mordecai towards the conclusion of the story. Would Mordecai have gone out and purchased such royal attire himself? If it was indeed shatnez, then no, clearly not. How do we know? Because we are earlier told of his ascetic behavior; that he dressed in sackcloth and smeared ashes on his body almost as one might see an Indian Sadhu withdrawing into a meditative samhadi retreat covered in ashes still today (4.1).
In Mordecai”s context, he was moved into a high position where he could now protect the Jewish people, and this meant choosing his battles; it very well might have meant conceding to wear linen and wool together in a single garment, understanding the reason for the prohibition, but also understanding that he was not wearing it for the sake of opulence, but for the sake of not alienating a people who was finally starting to rise in prominence, after almost having been massacred. Though later rabbis would attempt to explain this, their interpretations varied with one another and the text itself is not clear either way that the materials were in separate fabrics or in one garment.
It is possible that the royal attire was the pride of Persia and to reject it at such an occasion, when it was not a mitzvah preventing anyone from harm, but one of keeping one humble (and understanding that spirit), he made a judgment call, and contextualized the mitzvah of prohibiting these mixed materials. He wore them anyway. Does this mean that we should mix linen and wool? Only if we find ourselves in a position like Mordecai. But why this was interwoven into the story was to teach us that the mitzvot were made for us, we were not made for the mitzvot. Again, the Torah tells us to live by the mitzvot, not to die by them. Indeed, Devarim says “I have set life and death before you… chose life.”
The Garments of the Kohenim in the Temple and How It Ties In
Rashi reflects on Niddah (61b) and Megillat Esther (15) that Mordechai wore a “[woolen] purple tunic with white [linen] woven in the center” which were woven, but not spun, together. The pasuq relates: “Mordecai left the king’s presence clad in royal apparel of turquoise and white with a large gold crown and atakhrikh (תַכְרִיךְ, robe) of fine linen and purple wool”. This word takhrikh, we read, implies that the linen and purple wool were wrapped one around the other but were not woven together. Is this the case? As mentioned, the Rishonim were not in agreement. While the term takhrikh is used, and implies a shroud, the passage seems to indicate that the shroud itself was composed of both materials.
We might, however, look now at a deeper issue, besides trying to look at his actions and see them as not having been the obvious. The Torah itself does not outrightly prohibit mixing these materials. Within the context of the Temple priesthood, we are told that the Kohenim must mix them for Temple garments (Tractate Zebachim. 18b; Tractate Yoma 12b; in explaining Sh’mot/Exodus 28.6).
Could the Megillat Esther have been making a statement, a commentary on the nature of Mordecai’s activity? Could it have in fact have being saying that Mordecai had been elevated not only in terms of physical, temporal status, but also in terms of spiritual status? Does the Torah not say “And you shall be to Me a Kingdom of Kohenim (כֹּהֲנִים), and a Goy Qodesh (גוֹי קָדוֹש, Holy Nation).” (Exodus/Sh’mot 19.4)?
This discussion leads us to reopen the annals of history, of Jewish history. Many of us do not know much, some do not know anything, about the Jewish philosophies of the Second Temple Era. Why must we know about them? Isn’t the past just in the past? We must know about these philosophies because with the Galut, many of the less-successful memes joined with the dominant approach of the Beyt Hillel. The Council of Yavneh did not make Essenism (who the Talmud calls the Chassidim Rishonim) disappear, nor Sadduceeism disappear. We must then seek to unravel the interweaving of Sadduceeism from our Jewish tapestry. We must look at the debate between this group that dominated the Temple cult and the Essenes, both claiming to be the true priesthood. We must reexamine what this meant, historically, for the Jewish people who Ha’Shem said would be a Kingdom of Kohenim. Finally, we must ask ourselves what this means for the Jewish people as we move towards the Messianic Era.
Purim Sameach / (“פורים שמח / سعيد المساخر عيد (“مقترعين