Purim 5765

The gemara in Mesechet Megilah remarks how the Hasaras HaTaba’at did more for Klal Yisrael than 48 Nevi’im ever could, for whenever the Navi would tell the nation to do Teshuva, hardly anyone would listen. The story of Purim truly was a pivotal moment in our history; a special place in time and space where the randomness and chance of the nation’s fate was never more openly evident. And while Mordechai, Esteir, and Haman may have played the primary roles in this historic episode, it is still King Achashveirosh who highlights both the opening and closing parashiot of the Megilah. A king who once killed his wife by the advice of his friend and then killed that friend by the advice of his wife, who could be bribed into overlooking genocide, who could hold neither his sobriety nor his temper, Achashveirosh was perhaps the most dangerously unpredictable king in the history of the world, perhaps the only capable of ever facilitating such a dramatic reversal of fortune.

And yet, Achashveirosh doesn’t really seem to fill the lead role. Haman is the Rashah because he tries to kill the Jews and Mordechai and Esteir are the Tzadik and Tzadekes, but Achashveirosh doesn’t seem to fit into our orderly categorization. Neither hero nor villain, friend nor foe, is Achashveirosh to be labeled an anomaly? Is he to be remembered as HaMelech, nothing more than the tool through which Hashem staged the hidden miracle of Purim? Chazal suggest otherwise, as is indicated by the numerous times they refer to him as Oso HaRashah. The gemara goes so far as to explain the repetition of his name in the opening pasuk of the Megilah to indicate “”he was a Rashah throughout, from beginning to end.” But how can it be? How can a king who saves the entire Jewish nation, whose actions seem no more than the product of his insobriety, be held on a platform no higher than Haman’s or Nevuchadnetzar’s?

For all the certainty Chazal seem to have regarding his Rishus, they cannot seem to reach an agreement regarding his intelligence. Was Achashveirosh a Shoteh or a Pikeiach, stupid or smart, the gemara wonders. His decision to make a party for the faraway states before inviting Shushan becomes the crux of this debate. Normally, a king would be wise to appease the farther nations in order to suppress their contemplations of rebellion, but Achashveirosh’s case may have been different. Rav and Shmuel argue over the meaning of the opening pasuk’s words “Hodu ViAd Kush.” One amora explains the pasuk to describe the vast stretch of Achashveirosh’s kingdom; therefore, Hodu and Kush were countries far away from the capital, Shushan. The other explains that we already know how vast Achashveirosh’s kingdom was since the pasuk says “127 Midinah;” instead, Hodu and Kush were close to Shushan and signify how Achashveirosh had an equally strong control over the faraway states as he did over the neighboring Hodu and Kush. In such a case, Achashveirosh’s greatest concern should have been to appease his capital, for if they ever rebel, he would be left with nothing, and a rebellion was as likely there as it was 127 countries away. Over the duration of the Megilah’s ten-perek tale, one would expect to discover the truth behind Achashveirosh’s intelligence, or lack thereof, yet these amoraim’s ability to argue even in retrospect suggests otherwise! How can Chazal even think to call this man a Rashah if they can’t even decide whether his actions bear any semblance of rationale?!

It seems King Achashveirosh is so hopelessly unpredictable, we can’t tell whether he’s smart or dumb! Nor can we tell whether he loves or hates the Jews. One minute he’s buying them a party with Kosher food, the next minute he’s buying into their genocide. Many mefarshim resolve these self-contradictory actions by taking note of Haman’s 10,000 shekel bribe; perhaps it was worth a little Kosher food to Achashveirosh to make the Jews like him, but it was also worth 10,000 shekalim to give up on them. The problem with this understanding, however, is that it assumes Achashveirosh accepted Haman’s bribe, yet Achashveirosh says quite clearly “HaKesef Nasun Lach ViHa’Am La’Asos Bo KaTov BiEinecha,” keep your money, just get rid of the nation. The gemara explains: What compares to this [dialogue]? Haman and Achashveirosh are like two men, one with a mound of dirt and one with a ditch. The man with the ditch wonders who would sell him a mound, and the one with the mound wonders who would sell him a ditch. In time, they meet, and the ditch owner says, “Sell me your mound of dirt,” to which the mound owner replies, “Please! Take it for free!”

The gemara makes good sense of this pasuk, but before we hastily conclude Achashveirosh must have hated the Jews, let’s consider the story’s progression. Mordechai urgently asks Esteir to entreat the king, “LiHischanein Lo U’Livakeish MiLifanav Al Amah,” but if Achashveirosh hated the Jews as much as Haman, why would Mordechai have any luck appealing to him? Three days later, Achashveirosh is invited to Esteir’s second party, and when she informs him that she and her nation face extermination, he becomes enraged and erupts “Mi Hu Zeh ViEizeh Hu!!!” Was Esteir’s love really worth 10,000 shekalim to Achashveirosh? Perhaps it was, considering that he expresses how much he loves her by lifting the taxes. However, the plot suggests otherwise, for if Achashveirosh’s love for Esteir would have simply outweighed Haman’s money and influence, she could have asked for what she wanted in a very plain manner; instead, the she focuses her plea on the evil of Haman, “Ein HaTzar Shoveh BiNeizek HaMelech.”

The questions thus complete their circle, for if Achashveirosh conspired with Haman to exterminate the Jews, why would Esteir try to spring this fact on the King as if it was news to him? Apparently it was news to him! Why else would he ask “Mi Hu Zeh ViEizeh Hu?” Was Achashveirosh so stupid that he forgot having given up 10,000 shekalim just three days earlier to permit the annihilation of the Jews?

The Megilas Starrim speculates that perhaps Achashveirosh wasn’t entirely informed of Haman’s plans after all. The Megilah uses three different lishonos to describe the annihilation of the Jews: LiHashmid, LaHarog, and LiAbeid. When the Pas’shegen is dispatched, the orders contain all three lishonos, yet when Haman first approaches Achashveirosh, he only uses the word “LiAbidam.” The Megilas Starrim therefore asks why Haman didn’t use the other two lashonos as well within his proposition to the King? Could Haman have possibly been plotting behind Achashveirosh’s back?

If we look at the lashon used when Haman’s rage first inspires him to destroy the nation, the only lashon used is “LiHashmid;” both LaHarog and LiAbeid are curiously absent. If Haman wrote all three lashonos in the Pas’shegen, why did he only think of one from the outset? The Migilas Starrim answers that the Vav in the phrase “LiHashmid, LaHarog U’LiAbeid Es Kol HaYehudim” is a “Vav HaMachlekes” (in other words, it means “or,” not “and”) and that the last two terms of destruction, “LaHarog” and “LiAbeid,” are a description of the two ways of performing “LiHashmid.” Therefore, when Haman thinks “LiHashmid” the Jews, he’s really thinking of all three terms.

The Megilah describes all three words within the Pas’shegen in order to emphasize the kingdom’s option of dealing with the Jews either through Hariga or Aveida. This clarifies Haman’s misinformation of his plan to the King, for the King only knew of the option “LiAbeid.” But what exactly is this option “LiAbeid?” Let’s take another look at Haman’s speech to Achashveirosh, and this time we’ll keep in mind that Haman hides his plans “LaHarog” the Jews: “There is a nation that is spread out among all the other nations, yet they are not assimilating! Why? They are following their own rules and not the King’s. There is no reason or value for the King to tolerate this behavior, so for 10,000 shekalim, I suggest that we establish an expensive campaign with parties and pleasures to ensure that every Jew assimilates into our modern Persian culture. I’ll sponsor the campaign, I have the money.” So Aveida is conversion or assimilation, and when Achashveirosh hears this plan, he is elated. The gemara says that all the Jews attended Achashveirosh’s first party despite Mordechai’s warnings, so Achashveirosh surely believed Haman’s plan would be a complete success, worth every shekel of its cost.

Haman, however, did not have plans for a suggestive campaign. His proposal of a 10,000 shekel sponsorship was only a diversion to convince the King of his good-natured intentions. Instead Haman was planning a much more forceful operation, one that left each Jew with only two choices. “LaHarog,” to die, or “LiAbeid,” to convert; those were the only options.

Thus does the Megilas Starrim explain Mordechai’s urgent message to Esteir. Mordechai tells Hasach about both the Pas’Shegen and the Parashat HaKesef. One would expect him to only talk about the Pas’Shegen, but it was Haman’s proposal of a hefty sponsorship that effectively proved the king was not fully on Haman’s side. Mordechai knew that Achashveirosh was simply misinformed of what was truly written in the Pas’Shegen, and therefore the easiest way to defeat Haman would be to expose his insubordination. That’s why Esteir confronts the King with talks of “Ein HaTzar Shoveh BiNeizek HaMelech,” and that’s why the astonished King responds “Mi Hu Zeh ViEizeh Hu.”

Achashveirosh may have disliked the Jews, but he never actually intended to murder them. Such behavior was beneath him; he was much more interested in making everyone happy, in treating everyone fairly and not forcing his mandate upon anyone. That’s why every letter was sent out “El Midinah U’Midinah KiChsava ViEl Am VaAm KiLshono.” That’s why no person was forced to drink at his party, and why wine and foods from every country were supplied so everyone could find something he liked. In fact, everything Achashveirosh did was “KiRtzon Eesh VaEesh.”

We can now begin to see some consistency within Achashveirosh’s behavior; every action he takes is for the sake of fulfilling each man’s Ratzon. When Vashti doesn’t perform his Ratzon, he becomes enraged, but he certainly doesn’t consider killing her; such action would be incomprehensible to the King. However, Memuchan provides a strong argument. “If Vashti is spared,” he reasons, “then each officer’s wife will stop fulfilling her husband’s Ratzon, which will make each officer displeased, thus creating much more BiZayon and Katzef than already exists.” Memuchan’s larger scale perspective called for Vashti’s immediate execution and a decree “LeHios Kol Eesh Soreir BiVeiso;” naturally, Achashveirosh wasn’t very comfortable with this decision – what greater encroachment on his kingdom could there be than a potential death penalty – so he ends his decree with the instructions “U’Midabeir KiLshon Amo,” as if to say “you still have your freedom.”

The rest of the story progresses quite smoothly, as the King agrees to the expensive assimilation of the Jews, whom “Es Dasei HaMelech Einam Osim,” they don’t fulfill the King’s Ratzon. Ironically, he later discovers that Haman is plotting behind his back and not doing his Ratzon to a far worse degree than the Jews. Like Vashti, the people who promote these Ratzon-endangering edicts are to be put to death. Unlike Vashti, though, Haman consulted his friends instead of acting on his own, and so many people were held responsible for this offense.

Achashveirosh makes significant progress in the Megilah’s story, at first only willing to kill his rebellious wife and two scheming servants, Bigsan and Seresh, but later willing to slay five hundred men in his own capital! It seems his non-violent mentality somehow backfires to the point that he approves of genocide (of Amaleik) in order to maintain peace! It is not necessarily a foolish mentality; Achashveirosh consistently makes the appropriate immediate decision, but he never looks far enough into the future to wonder if he can truly maintain his utopian kingdom. And within a year of the story of Purim, his reign comes to an abrupt end, and the second King Koresh takes over. We come to recognize that Achashveirosh was not that unpredictable after all, nor was he incredibly stupid, nor was he incredibly smart. He just wanted to do “KiRtzon Eesh VaEesh.”

“KiRtzon Eesh VaEesh” requires the fulfillment of two distinct desires. Everyone wants equal treatment, to be no worse than the next person, to be held no lower. Yet everyone wants choice as well, the desire for his own voice to be heard above others’. And as hard as Achashveirosh tried to grant his subjects these two distinct desires, ultimately, he could not. From the very start of his reign, Achashveirosh had to decide how to divvy his control over his kingdom; he could either attempt to rule alone, or he could assign his most loyal officers to each of his 127 countries to maintain order. The former approach, however, encroached upon the equality of his nation, leaving the farther countries more distant from their ruler, more out of touch, more likely to rebel. All of a sudden, parties would be necessary to keep them happy. The latter approach was just as problematic, for the most loyal officers would be selected not by the people, but by the King, thus limiting his subjects’ freedom, the kingdom’s democracy.

Like Rav and Shmuel teach us, it is indeterminable which approach Achashveirosh chose. Neither choice was a stupid choice, nor was either choice a smart choice. Perhaps the 180 day party was a careful calculation, in which case “BaChatzar Geenas Beesan HaMelech” would most likely mean that Achashveirsoh prepared several gardens, intending that every attendant feel comfortable in the environment of his choice. Perhaps the party was a stupid idea, thought up on a whim, in which case “Geenas Beesan HaMelech” reflects Achashveirosh’s poor planning, that he invited everyone into his Chatzeir, and when it overcrowded, he opened up the Geenah, and then the Beesan. Persistently, Achashveirosh tries as hard as he can to do KiRtzon Eesh VaEesh, to let each write and speak KiChsavah and KiLshono, to judge between KaDas and Lo KaDas, to treat his women KiDas HaNashim, and to deal with the Jews KaTov BiEinav; nonetheless, his actions cannot be perfect. They are only “like” perfect actions because as correct as his choices may have been at the immediate moment with the given information, his perspective of any matter was always severely limited.

KiRtzon Eesh VaEesh. (Why “Eesh VaEesh,” why not “KiRtzon Kulam”?) HaKadosh Baruch Hu said to [Achashveirosh], “I do not deviate from the nature of My creation, and you want to fulfill every man’s will?! If two men wish to marry the same woman, can she marry both of them? Alas, she can only marry one. Similarly, if two boats leave a dock, one hoping for a northern wind and one hoping for a southern wind, can the wind blow them both in their respective desired directions? Alas, it can only carry one. Tomorrow, two men will approach you, one man an Eesh Yihudi and one man an Eesh Tzar ViOyeiv, each with a request, and we shall see if you can fulfill both their desires. Alas, you will elevate one but hang the other.”
Midrash Esteir Rabbah, 2:14

The Midrash doesn’t call Achashveirosh a Chacham or a Tipeish, but it suggests that he infuriated Hakadosh Baruch Hu with his party. Achashveirosh’s pursuit for equality and freedom wasn’t only a futile waste of energy; it undermined the very notion that the world could operate on a more objective Ratzon than his own. And what Ratzon, one might ask, is more objective than man’s? Hashem’s Ratzon, of course. It is His Ratzon that we pursue, and His Das that we follow, and we perform that which is Tov BiEinav. All the while, we recognize that while we are granted free choice, we must still operate within the context of our Torah’s restrictions. We recognize that we are not treated equally but rather tested differently, that each individual is created to fulfill a unique piece of Hashem’s ultimate plan, and that one’s unique experiences and unique challenges are to be viewed as the reflection of Hashem’s Ratzon to provide us with opportunities to achieve our Geulah.

There is one “Kaf” in the Megilah that perhaps stands out as the strangest of all the seemingly out of place “Kaf”s. Mordechai, in a moment of dire urgency, persuades Esteir to take action and approach Achashveirosh. He says to her, “U’Mi Yodei’ah Im LaEis KaZos Hi’Ga’at LaMalchus,” who knows if a moment like this is why you have ascended to royalty. If Mordechai is so certain that Esteir should risk her life to speak with the King, he should pronounce “Im LaEis HaZos!” Yet Morchai very carefully chooses his words; had he said “HaZos,” his instructions would imply that he knew Esteir’s purpose as queen was to approach the King at this time. But Mordechai can’t know what Hashem’s true intentions are; he can only speculate with his relatively limited perspective. Instead, Mordechai teaches Esteir a much deeper lesson. “There is no one moment that the Jews can be saved,” Mordechai explains, “there are many moments. But if you do not recognize how this moment might be your opportunity to save the Jews, then you are not searching for Hashem’s Ratzon; you’re only selfishly searching for your own Ratzon, and you will surely not be given another opportunity.”

Purim is all too often remembered as the holiday of Gilui Panim, the time in history when extraordinary coincidences like Esteir’s ascension to royalty, Achashveirosh’s short temper, and other various timely miracles, were just enough to reverse the Jews’ fortune. But how apparent were all these miracles? In reality, they only stood as clear indicators of Hashem’s presence after the nation’s salvation. Perhaps the story of Purim only furthers us into Hesteir Panim, the concealment of Hashem’s presence within every mundane activity, as opposed to the vastly uncommon one-in-a-million coincidences.

Nonetheless, we must struggle to recognize that the lessons of Purim are not only true in times of miraculous coincidence, but even in our modern times. We must strain to accept that the Ratzon of Hashem isn’t always highlighted by incredible circumstance, but rather must be sought after. And if we realize this potential for fulfilling the Ratzon Hashem, then BiMiheirah BiYameinu we will be Zocheh to experience that which is described in the continuation of the same Midrash:

Rav Huna said in the name of Rav Binyamin Bar Levi: In this world, when the northern winds blow, the southern winds cannot. And when the southern winds blow, the northern winds cannot. But in the World To Come, when Hashem gathers His nation from exile, He will bring a supernatural wind that blows in both directions, as the pasuk states “Omeir LiTzafon T’ni, U’LiTeiman Al Tachla’ee. Hevi’i Banai MeiRachok U’B’nosai MiKitzei HaAretz.”

Who can perform the will of all those who fear Him? It is HaKadosh Baruch Hu, as the pasuk says “Ritzon Yirei’av Ya’aseh ViEs Sha’avasam Yishma ViYoshi’eim.”
Midrash Esteir Rabbah, 2:14