Purim matters so much this year. It tells a never ending story. We were threatened with destruction. We responded by finding ways to combat the threat. We did not capitulate. We called out evil as it was. We celebrated our survival by emphasizing charity, friendship, and gratitude, strengthening our communities — by building, not destroying. We did not rejoice in needless pain or seeing others suffer.

Purim makes another point — that another reaction to evil is to laugh at it. There are many ways of fighting evil. Just think of Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator, and Mel Brooks’ The Producers. These works can often be as effective as serious analysis.

Humor runs through the Megillah, as well as darkness. The story is supposed to have happened some 2,500 years ago in the Persian Empire. Perhaps Mordechai and Esther were not real people, but they may have been symbols based on Marduk and Astarte, Babylonian gods. Historians will argue about whether Purim is historically accurate or not.

Who was Achashverosh? Could this inebriated, credulous, short-tempered, lovesick monarch be a great emperor who invaded Greece? Was this why he needed money and taxes? The Talmud itself enjoyed light-hearted speculations. Was Esther Mordechai’s wife, or adopted daughter? What did Esther eat in the Palace? Was it treif, supervised kosher food, or just vegetarian? What were Vashti’s motives for refusing to appear before the king? Was she the precursor of feminism? Haman gets a chamber pot poured over him. His wife abandons him. Advisors contradict each other.

Humor is important, and religion in particular — which often takes itself so seriously — needs to be able to laugh at itself sometimes. Life is tough. One of the functions of religious ritual is to help us enjoy life, as well as to reign in our selfish egos a little, and make us more aware of other people and other standards.  We are surrounded by suffering, anxiety, uncertainty, and concern for the future. How should we respond? By becoming depressed and suicidal? No, religion is often seen as stern and moralizing, boring and dull. Yet during many holidays, we are exposed to powerful human themes and experiences of the senses, and asked to reflect on them and then celebrate with festivity, good food, wine, family, and friends. This is what can make religion fun, as well as educational, uplifting, and comforting.

I fully understand the right of the Palestinians to have their narrative as much as I am committed to my Jewish-Israeli narrative. And I deeply regret that two people who share the same home have not been able to negotiate a peaceful settlement. Both sides blame each other, and believe they are right.

We must remember those who are and have suffered and perished — those still in danger and the hostages who are being subjected to daily sexual abuse and torture. But we must also keep our spirits up, and not forget we owe it to all those martyrs who have perished to fight for our survival. We are all survivors (in a manner of speaking). And that is why we must allow ourselves to enjoy the fun of Purim, good food, good wine, and good cheer, with masks, and focus on being good people even as we have to fight.

Happy Purim to all Israel. Am Yisrael Chai.

The author is a writer and rabbi, currently based in New York.

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