text: Behind the fun of Purim are serious messages, teachings for life. Stuart Crown, Ahavat Olam’s treasurer, reminded me of one this morning. Esther has to face herself. She is the queen, elevated to a position of great ease and comfort in the palace, far from want or worry. To get along, all she needs is to go along. Keep her head down. Not rock the boat. But suddenly, she is called upon to put everything at risk to take a chance – and only a chance — at saving her people. We each are called to face ourselves, possibly every single day. Not as dramatically as risking our own lives to stop a genocide, but we are confronted with moral choices every day. What are we willing to risk? How much of our comfort? Our position? Esther and Mordechai’s dynamics are instructive. At first, Esther objects that the risk is too great. Insecure, afraid to jeopardize her privilege, “Not me,” she implies. Mordechai assures her that if not through her, the salvation will come another way. What must happen will happen. He is sure. But, if she does not step up and do what she must, then she will indeed perish. Perhaps it is precisely for this purpose that Esther has been elevated to such a position. Esther gets it and takes on the task. Knowing she needs support, she calls on her people to fast with her for three days of deep spiritual preparation and then she goes and does what she must. Here’s what resonates for me: How am I willing to use my position and my privilege to be an ally and advocate for those who are not so advantaged. How much will I protect my apparent position by staying compliant, not using the opportunity my position affords me? May I learn from Esther . .
  Megillat Esther is a flamboyant, even farcical tale of good and evil. Its characters are caricatures of human virtue and vice. Haman is the ultimate villain, Achashverosh a fool; Mordechai is an unassailable tzaddik, Esther a paragon of virtue and beauty. As children, we are captivated by these characters in all their unambiguous glory. We try on their personae and imagine ourselves as absolutely courageous or cowardly, beautiful or ugly, good or bad. As adults, we learn to laugh at the absurdity of such absolutes, which leave little room for the subtleties and uncertainties of the world as we know it. Yet, a closer look at the megillah reveals shades of gray that illuminate our own struggles to act with hope, courage and moral responsibility in a complex and often terrifying world.
  I have come to believe that the most important verse in the entire megillah—the verse that represents the pivotal turning point in the Purim story—comes near the end of chapter four, when Mordechai sends a message to Esther, urging her to reveal her identity to King Achashverosh and plead on behalf of the Jewish people.
  These are the words that set Esther in motion, that inspire her to take action in spite of her own resistance, in spite of her fears about her own fate, in spite of her doubts about her own position and power in the king’s court.
  “Who knows?” This is hardly the kind of message we look for to motivate us to act with courage in a crisis. We generally look for a message that inspires a little more confidence: “This is precisely why you became queen! Your actions will make all the difference! This is why God put you in this position. Nothing happens without a purpose.”