Why we are here

Last night I hosted a women’s moon circle for the month of Adar.

We gathered on cushions around fresh flowers, rose petals, fruit, and soft light. A small circle of colored glass candles radiated in the center.

We spoke about Pisces, the water sign that feels deeply, has the capacity to really sit with others in pain, and make meaning from suffering. This part of us viscerally senses everything, can be creative, intuitive, and even mystical, but sometimes hesitates to act.

We passed around a flame, each ignited a candle, and then we discussed the story of Megillat Esther.

When Mordechai went out to the city crying loudly, dressed in sackcloth and ashes, Esther’s attendants came and told her. 

How did Esther respond?

The Megillah says:

"וַתִּתְחַלְחַל הַמַּלְכָּה מְאֹד

וַתִּשְׁלַח בְּגָדִים לְהַלְבִּישׁ אֶת־מָרְדֳּכַי

וּלְהָסִיר שַׂקּוֹ מֵעָלָיו"

“The queen trembled greatly.” 

She was deeply shaken by this news. So what did she do next? 

She sent clothing.

She wanted him to remove the sackcloth.

To restore normalcy.

Something about Esther’s initial response feels a bit passive to me, I shared. Esther didn’t ask any questions. What’s going on? What horrible thing could have led to such a dramatic production? Is there something I can do?

Instead she sent clothing. Almost as if superficially trying to fix the issue from a distance.

I asked my friends:

Where in our lives are we sending clothes, are we smoothing something over instead of asking the deeper questions?

Where in our lives are we distressed… but still passive?

Pisces energy tends to feel everything deeply, but sometimes can mistake awareness for movement. Sometimes we think that because we care, we have acted.

Mordechai refuses the clothing and sends a message. He tells Esther everything about the horrible decree to kill the Jews and asks that she go before the king to beg him to save her people. 

Again, Esther's response is quite passive: If I have not been summoned I will be put to death…. (In our circle, we all agreed that she shouldn’t judge Esther, after all she would be putting her very life on the line!) 

And this is where the story sharpens.

Mordechai responds:

אַל־תְּדַמִּי בְנַפְשֵׁךְ לְהִמָּלֵט בֵּית־הַמֶּלֶךְ מִכָּל־הַיְּהוּדִים

“Do not imagine that you will escape in the king’s palace…”

He removes her illusion of insulation. Being in the palace does not make her separate from her people.

But what is most striking to me is what Mordechai says next:

כִּי אִם־הַחֲרֵשׁ תַּחֲרִישִׁי בָּעֵת הַזֹּאת

רֶוַח וְהַצָּלָה יַעֲמוֹד לַיְּהוּדִים מִמָּקוֹם אַחֵר

“For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place…”

He does not say, “Without you, we are doomed.”

He does not put the weight of the entire Jewish future on her shoulders.

He appeals to something deeper within her. Her sense of purpose and meaning. 

The story of the Jewish people will continue, he reassures. 

Redemption will come. 

History is larger than just one person.

But just think:

"מִי יוֹדֵעַ אִם־לְעֵת כָּזֹאת הִגַּעַתְּ לַמַּלְכוּת"

“Who knows if it was for just such a time as this that you attained royalty?”

No pressure Esther, salvation doesn’t need to come through you. The Jewish people will be just fine, God will take care of us.

But maybe, just maybe you were put in this position for a reason.

Maybe the position you find yourself in is not accidental but curated by Something Larger than yourself.  

The Jewish story will continue, dear Esther. The question is merely whether or not your name will be written into it.

…

We sat with that.

We journaled.We shared.

Some of us shared about roles we feel quietly called to step into, and the hesitation that still lingers. Others shared about difficult situations in their lives and wondered aloud whether there might be more meaning there than they had first imagined. 

…

And then I took out my guitar and shared something personal.

A few weeks ago, there was an important conversation I knew I needed to have. Just thinking about the conversation was anxiety-provoking. The weight of the conversation was heavy on me and I had been putting off having it for a very very long long time… 

The week before I finally had it, my mind kept replaying the Berdichever’s niggun. I was listening to it on Spotify, playing it on my guitar, and humming it while washing dishes. (Ishay Ribo’s version is my favorite!) 

And then one day as I was playing this melody on my guitar, tears started streaming down my face. 

What am I grieving? I kept asking myself. 

And then I realized that there was a loss.

A loss of the identity I had before.

A loss of the way this person used to see me.

A loss of a role I had played in this person’s life and what that role had given me.

There was a version of myself that needed to be mourned before I could step into the next version.

I wasn’t avoiding action because I was lazy or indifferent.

I was avoiding it because I hadn’t let myself grieve…

Following Mordechai’s call to action, this is exactly Esther’s next move. 

Esther acts powerfully, but she does not storm into the palace. 

Rather, she fasts.

She gathers the women.

She processes.

Before courage, and before action, there is often grief.

I invited everyone to think about whether there is something they haven’t fully grieved, picked up my guitar, and together we sang the Berdichever’s niggun. 

Maybe we need to grieve a dream or a role. Perhaps a relationship, a previous self, or a story about who we are supposed to be.

Because sometimes what keeps us passive is not fear of action, but unwept tears.

… 

Adar is the month of hiddenness and reversal.

"וְנַהֲפוֹךְ הוּא"

“It was turned.”

Joy in this month is not denial or superficial positivity. It is what becomes possible after we mourn, act honestly, and step into a higher version of ourselves. 

The Jewish story and the trajectory of history does not depend on any one of us.

But maybe, just maybe,

וּמִי יוֹדֵעַ

אִם־לְעֵת כָּזֹאת

This is exactly why we are here.

Chodesh Tov!