by Rav Sha'ul Yisraeli, of saintly blessed memory, member of Israeli Chief Rabbinate, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.
The Talmud states: "The Jewish nation accepted the Torah for a second time in the days of King Achashverosh, as is written: "The Jews fulfilled and accepted" (Esther 9,27) – they fulfilled what they accepted before."
The first time the Jews accepted the Torah was at Mt. Sinai, accompanied by thunder and lightning and resounding shofar blasts. And even so, it was actually against their will; the Sages derive from the Torah's words "They stood at the bottom of the mountain" (Sh'mot 19,17) that G-d threatened them with the mountain itself if they did not accept the Torah.
Quite remarkable. Even after all the wonders of the Exodus and the splitting of the Red Sea, with pillars of cloud and fire walking before them, with water pouring out of a rock and bread falling from the sky, miracles every day and every hour – all this seemed not to be enough. Because when the test came and Bnei Yisrael stood at Mt. Sinai, they were not totally ready, and the mountain had to be turned atop them so that they would accept it.
Compare this to what occurred precisely 960 years later. The Jews were living in a far-off, foreign land, subservient to Achashverosh, given to the whims of every little villain who happened to rise to power, under the thumb of a drunken king awash in debauchery and physical pleasures – and suddenly, just a royal signet seal away from total destruction.
And yet there, under these impossible conditions, in which G-d purposely concealed His presence, and where even the miracles He wrought were enwrapped and hidden in a complex but wondrous plot that only a sensitive eye could see through and locate the Divine hand pulling the strings behind the screen of natural law – precisely there and then, they "fulfilled and accepted" willingly the Torah that they accepted long before somewhat less happily.
Wonder of wonders, is this not?
To review: After 400 years of enslavement in Egypt, they leave as a free people. Their eyes are peeled towards the Promised Land, towards independence, towards self-determination. No longer slaves of Pharaoh, they will now decide their own fate. The Torah describes them at this point as leaving in triumph (Sh'mot 14,8), well-armed (13,18), and with great confidence.
They were free, like all other nations, with a flag of their own, with judges, with a kingdom and royal ceremonies. What was still lacking was a Constitution – but there was still time for that. Their hearts were not yet ready to formulate one; they felt they could wait until the circumstances would be ripe, and when they would know their precise situation and its needs. They didn't know yet what type of society they would form, how to regulate relations between citizens, and how to interact with their as-yet unknown neighboring countries. After all, they wouldn't want to act differently and stand out…
Yes, there were miracles – but "who needs miracles now? Let's just live natural lives. Torah from the Heavens? Sounds unnecessary; let's just suffice with a Torah that we ourselves will fashion, not from the Heavens, but from the earth!"
Yet, soon things changed. Not that they had had no relationship with G-d, but it wasn't sufficiently stable and strong. Exile came, and the rivers of Babylon. At first, this seemed catastrophic. "How can we sing the Lord's song on foreign land?" (Psalms 137,4) But little by little, they began to adapt to the new reality – and it didn't seem so terrible. "Exile? On the contrary, the people around us are very pleasant, they grant us equal rights, and even "Mordechai sits by the king's gate" (Esther 2,21). No one treats us differently, we're invited to the king's feast just like everyone else… True, the festivities commemorate the completion of 70 years of the destruction of Jerusalem, with the Holy Temple's utensils on display for all to mock – but what of it? Shushan is a great place to live!"
Then came the wake-up call. In a most enigmatic manner, a long-unknown, pompous villain rises to power, and actually gets the liberal king to agree to his seemingly absurd plan to commit genocide against an entire people. "The king removed his signet ring" (Esther 3,10), signing the royal decree of destruction without hesitation.
What happened to all the universal humanistic values? To where disappeared to the principle of equal rights for everyone? Was there no longer any appreciation of a hard-working people that was able to integrate successfully and contribute in every area to the entire kingdom? "It is not worth the king's while to retain them" (3,8), the villain explained simply.
And the Jews in Shushan (9,18, and see also 4,16) look around with disbelief. What happened to all their friends? From every corner, people point at them in disdain, harass them, silence them, attack them. "Get out of here, we don't need you, you have no place in this world."
This, then, is the wake-up call. Once again, the Jews realize that they are different from everyone else – and that if they want to survive and thrive, they had better grasp again on to their spiritual fortress, that which was granted them even before they were an independent nation on their own land. They understand that they had better renew the ancient, eternal covenant that their forefathers Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov forged with the G-d of life, the King of the universe.
Suddenly they understand that it is the Torah of G-d that grants them true life. And they say the same words – "We will [follow the Torah] and we will listen" (Sh'mot 24,7) – that they said long ago at Sinai without understanding their true significance. This time, however, they fully comprehend the words' depth and significance.
On Purim, "they fulfilled and accepted," fulfilling that which they had accepted once before.
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