They glided in as if on invisible ponies, high heels and gilded gowns whisping across our floor. This was a special enough event to warrant shoes, and even heels, inside our Tokyo home, normally out of the question. (I did give them a wipe for the soles). It was, afterall, Purim. And my two friends were princesses–Esther-adjacent, but in the ethereal feel of a biblical/fairy tale princess, where the marvelous happened. And it does. 

But in that same Purim event, we didn’t just speak about Shushan. Later on, we spoke a bit about Putin and what was happening in the skies and in the cities of Ukraine as they were besieged, then, just three weeks into Putin’s war campaign, March, 2022. The Jewish community in Ukraine had been counted at roughly 43,000 at the start of that war, and they could not stay. It was a scary thing, a real-time war of men and brothers remaining behind to fight, rag-tag, as pharmacists or whatever occupation they were, (not professional soldiers), while women and children fled if they were able. 

And it was also Purim. 

Later, one of those princesses spoke with us, greatly upset, even mad. The fact that we’d brought up war at a Purim party was bad. It was a war outside of the Megilla–-outside of, or in addition to, Haman’s danger that we dodged. We referenced a war with no known closure, and no signaled “happy ever after”. It was going on, though, and it also affected a huge Jewish community. And it was probably mentioned in earshot of the little girls, perhaps hoping to be princesses, children who should only know laughter. (Two of the girls were my daughters). None of this sat well with our friend–an adult, mind you. 

She wanted escapism, maybe, or just enchantment for the little girls present. And I can appreciate that. Children do not need the stress of war, even when it is far away. But we are also a praying community. And one thing that raising Jewish children has taught all of us parents over millennia, is that evil does not simply evaporate when we choose glee or clap for invisible Tinkerbell, agreeing that she is real. We are an alert people, and it doesn’t take much to see evil men who rise up, and surprise, surprise, want to kill us. I mean, Haman wasn’t the first, and he’s not the last. 

But I realized something–and maybe it only applied to her, a gentile celebrating this particular Jewish holiday, but I realized that she’d expected the old quip: “They tried to kill us; they failed/we won; let’s eat.” We couldn’t stay on-script. 

Our concern regarding Russia and Ukraine broke her paradigm when it broke into our focus. Our eyes were not singularly locked into the story and history of the past. 

She was also agitated–where was the Disney princess vibe? She’d even brought a friend (the other glittery princess) and didn’t want that friend’s image of this princess party, Purim, soiled. 

But what, when there are present-day threats? The Jews in Ukraine (and those in Russia threatened by imprisonment if they did not fight) were also supposed to celebrate Purim. Where was their princess party, and where were their tea cakes and berries, only? 

Later on, this friend (we have not made amends after parting ways) and her husband were similarly agitated when we put so much attention on Israeli guests whom we host and the Israeli community at large. They spoke up about it just before Oct. 7th, 2023. What was the danger or the need they might have felt? 

Little did we know that a guest who’d sat at our family’s Shabbat table would later fall in battle. We could also not have known that another guest and now, close friend, would lose his big sister that day. We are a people who know battles and banqueting tables. We are not simply perpetually partying because “they tried to kill us, we won, let’s eat.” We also get hurt. We also lose people we love, even our most beautiful and heroic loves. 

And now, this Purim finds our friends in bomb shelters all across Israel. Our Tokyo guests wonder when flights back to their families will resume, and so their time abroad, in worry, continues. We’ve had so many cancellations from those unable to fly out of Ben Gurion. And it’s Purim. The witch is dead, so the parties should be in full swing, no more danger, right?

Truly, our most modern-day “Haman” is gone. Khomeini, who drove most of the large Persian Jewish community from their lives in Iran, who made Hebrew and even alleged support of Israel a crime punishable by death, is himself dead. The Khomeini power that jailed and shot dissidents, threw acid on women’s faces, whose power raped women and picked them up in morality-police vans for showing a strand of hair or dared singing, is no longer.  Khomeini, the man, whose cruel, tyrannical dictatorship also funded and fueled terror proxies who targeted Jews, Israel, the US, and democracy, is done. 

Purim will always be relevant, and so, too, its real-time connections and implications. Yes, maybe soon, we can eat our triangular cookies in peace and drink sparkly punch or whatever here, and say with confident finality, “He is dead. Every evil Haman, ever, is dead. Let’s eat, muchachos.” 

But even cut-off tentacles of antisemitism/anti-Zionism have survived and resurfaced, growing and swelling to become monsters again. Some US newspapers wrote his obit as if he were everyone’s favorite, most-esteemed professor-uncle, as if he’d been a public servant and a Mr. Rogers Mullah for Iran and the Middle East. Propaganda is effective. 

My friends in Israel tell me over WhatsApp that they want this discomfort to be worth it–to really be rid of this evil and not have Khomeini’s evil plans resurface. They want the people of Iran free and they hope for lasting peace. 

Tragedies from the barrage of Iran’s ballistic missiles have occurred, and they continue.

Maybe we can say, “Ding dong, he’s dead,” and soon not have any of his surviving goons be shooting into celebrating crowds in Tehran. But life as a Jew is filled with real-time events. Our eyes did not close, and the news did not stop the moment Haman was hanged. Antisemitism did not cease after Esther’s plan worked so successfully, and evil empires do not quickly forget their targets.

We are a living people with living threats over long swaths of time. Fortunately, there is also a big picture. We’ll have the happy ending–I’m sure of it. This is, after all, part of our Hagaddah, our Rosh Hashanah feast, and Yom Kippur message and greeting. But opening the door for the real Elijah and being swept off our feet in an eternal shalom without tears doesn’t all happen now. Or maybe it’s around the corner before the next Purim. Who can say? 

Life is complex for us. We can celebrate while in a mamad. We can feel multiple things–elation and fatigue, knowing the story of Purim as an account that meets us here and now. It’s an encouragement–for though your children know the sound of alarms, though they cannot sleep much, though a lot of things, there is something woven in the fabric of our being. It is to “boo” when evil exists. To Fight. Love. Exult in peace. Be a people of hope who sometimes get to wear their shoes inside and drown out the sound of the bad guy’s name. It’s ours. 

To friends who are not Jewish, you get to look at the news and seek to understand nuance and anti-Jewish, anti-Israel propaganda as a human. You get to dig deeper into what media shares and make sure it’s true. You have the perfect chance to stand with us and spot even modern-day players who affect us. Taste each oznei haman flavor and hold noisemakers, too. Go for it. But know that complexity is okay. In our princess stories, danger is real, and so are victories. 

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)