we concoct for ourselves a farcical revenge fantasy ; but I think the point is not the revenge , but rather the oppression . The story is a catharsis – a technique for dealing with the trauma of persecution and isolation . And if we can read that out of the text – if we can perform a magnanimous act of “ venahafoch hu ” – if we can translate the response to oppression that soaks the ending of the story in blood into an empathy with other people ’ s oppression , subjugation , and isolation , then perhaps we wouldn ’ t be tempted to read chapter nine in a hushed voice , but rather to shout it through a megaphone :
“ Look at what happens when oppression goes unchecked – humanity evaporates , morality disappears , and people act on their basest impulses , like wild animals .
Chapter nine , then , should perhaps be seen not as an horrific descent into barbarity , but as a crucial cautionary tale . Leviticus , which we always begin reading shortly after Purim , asks us to imagine a better world : one where the Israelite is commanded to care for the stranger “ for [ we ] were strangers in the land of Egypt ”; one where principles of justice , kindness , and righteousness are presented as a foil to the corrupt , violent , and amoral place that God took us out of ; one where we are called upon to be holy , like God .
I happen to be signed up to read chapter nine this year . I intend to read it in full voice , not proudly , but consciously , and I will focus my kavana – my intention – on one thing : with my people in such a terrible , impossible bind , with our spiritual core so grievously wounded , I will be thinking : please God , on this eve of Purim , venahafoch hu – let the opposite happen .
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