Monday evening, March 2nd, will mark the evening of Purim. The streets will be filled with children and adults in costumes, and families preparing mishloach manot, food gifts sent to one another in fulfillment of what we read in Esther, “days of feasting and rejoicing, and sending portions of food to one another” (Esther 9:22). The Scroll of Esther will be read aloud once again.
As I reflect on the remarkable story found in the Book of Esther, I am struck by how certain realities have not changed. The characters may change, but the spirit behind them does not. The evil that operated in the past continues to surface in the present. And in the same way, the call to stand against that spirit remains. The boldness it requires has not diminished. The opportunities to take a stand for God and for His people are still before us.
The issue in Esther was not territory. It was not borders. It was not policy. It was existence.
The problem, in Haman’s eyes, was not what the Jews had done. It was their existence.
That distinction matters.
When the issue is policy, there can be negotiation. When the issue is territory, there can be compromise. When the issue is borders, lines can be redrawn.
But when the issue is existence, there is nothing to negotiate.
The decree in Esther was not corrective. It was eliminative:
“to destroy, to kill, and to annihilate all the Jews, young and old, women and children, in one day…” (Esther 3:13).
Totality was the point.
And that is why Purim forces us to think carefully about the nature of opposition in every generation. When the issue is something you did, there is room for response.
When the issue is that you exist, the intention is different.
In Persia, it was framed as governance. A people “scattered and dispersed among the peoples… and their laws are different from those of all other people” (Esther 3:8). Difference became justification.
We have heard this argument before. The language may change, but the accusation is familiar. Today, when leaders in Iran speak not merely of opposing policies but of eliminating the Jewish state, the pattern is not new. Again, the issue is not a specific decision. It is not a particular border nor it is not a temporary government. It is about existence.
And that is why the response in Esther matters. Mordechai did not compromise. He did not adjust himself to make the moment easier. He simply would not bow.
Esther faced something different. She had access and influence. She could have remained quiet and survived. Instead, she realized that her position was not accidental:
And who knows whether you have not attained royalty for such a time as this? Esther 4:14, NASB
That question was not about destiny. It was about responsibility.
Her answer was simple and resolute:
And if I perish, I perish.
Esther 4:16, NASB
Purim does not hide the threat. The decree was real. The danger was real. The fear was real. Jewish families heard that edict and understood exactly what it meant. And yet, here we are, still reading the same Scroll. We are still sending food baskets to one another, still celebrating!
Yes, the spirit of Haman has not disappeared. It surfaces in different generations. It adopts new language. It presents itself as justice, resistance, or theology. But at its core, it remains what it always was a refusal to accept Jewish existence.
We see it today. We hear it openly. We do not need to exaggerate it.
But there is something else that has not changed. The same God who overturned that decree in Persia has not changed. The same God who preserved His people in exile has not changed. The same covenant that sustained the Jewish people when they were scattered among the nations has not expired.
We are not reading the Scroll of Esther as a vulnerable minority in someone else’s empire. We are reading it in a sovereign Jewish state. We are reading it in the land promised to our fathers. The mere fact that we are here, speaking Hebrew again, raising children again, celebrating Purim again , is not a political accident. It is covenant continuity.
Empires have risen and fallen since Persia. Decrees have been signed. Enemies have declared their intentions. And yet, the Jewish people remain. We remain not because the spirit of Haman weakened; we remain because the God of Israel did not.
Purim is joyful not only because we survived then. It is joyful because the covenant has proven stronger than every attempt to erase it. And the fact that we stand in this land, telling this story once again, is itself testimony.
His story.