As detailed in the biblical Book of Esther, the holiday of Purim celebrates the miraculous salvation of the Jews of ancient Persia from near annihilation. Taking place on the 14th day of the month of Adar (the 15th in Jerusalem; a month before Passover), the joyous celebration is guided by four commandments: night and day attendance at public ceremonial readings of the Book of Esther; donating gifts of charity to the poor; sending gifts of food to friends; and enjoying a late afternoon/evening feast, at which one (at least in principle) drinks enough libations so as to reach the point of ad d’lo yada—that is, so as not to be able to discriminate between the hero and villain of the Purim account: the righteous Mordechai and the evil Haman.

Professor Wiesel refers to the holiday of Purim in a number of lectures, first and foremost in his remarkable searching study of “Esther, a Jewish Queen,” where he notes that “Purim is something so rare, so special, so unique in the annals of our recorded history, that we shall never part with it.” This study is complemented by Talmudic, Hasidic and wartime stories—and Professor Wiesel’s preciously funny personal account of his observing Purim in the (alternating) company of two close friends.

We also include the opening lines from Professor Wiesel’s newly republished poem, The Tale of a Niggun (Schocken, 2020), which lyrically recounts a remarkable incident that took place on Purim during the Holocaust years.

May the two excerpts of Professor Wiesel’s teaching that follow (and the others that can be found within the lectures) further expand and reveal for us the layers of meaning that reside in the holiday of Purim—a festival that “will last as long as exile--and even longer.”

In the Bible: Esther, A Jewish Queen, October 29, 1981
Well, once upon a time, in a land far away, there flourished a great Jewish community which--because of a woman and her innate sense of dignity, and because of a man and his foolish need for vanity, awoke one morning to find itself in danger: all its men and women, and children too, had been condemned to perish, a plan which would get a name centuries and centuries later: genocide.

Luckily, there lived a man, a Just Man in their midst; and luckily he had a beautiful niece. She was so beautiful. And together they managed to revoke the evil decree, and alter the course of history, and thus save their people from a certain massacre.

And so we witnessed triumphs: triumph of faith and prayer over terror and cruelty. Yesterday’s victims emerge as today’s victors. Power and glory have shifted from the haves to the have nots, from the notables to the people.

Everybody likes a happy ending, which explains the universal popularity of Purim, a holiday we are told that will last as long as exile--and longer. Yes, Purim will be celebrated even after the coming of the Messiah--even after the redemption of the Jewish people and all people, all nations, all men. Purim is something so rare, so special, so unique in the annals of our recorded history, that we shall never part with it. We need Purim as much as we need Yom Kippur.

The Tale of a Niggun, 1978/2020
A ghetto,
somewhere in the East,
during the reign of night,
under skies of copper
and fire.
The leaders of the community,
good people all,
courageous all,
fearing God and loving His Law,
came to see
the rabbi
who has cried and cried,
and has searched
darkness
for an answer
with such passion
that he no longer
can see.
It’s urgent,
they tell him,
it’s more than urgent;
it’s a matter
of life or death
for some Jews
and perhaps
all Jews.
Speak,
says the rabbi,
tell me all:
I wish not to be spared.
This is what the enemy demands,
says the oldest
of the old Jews
to the rabbi,
who listens
breathlessly.
The enemy demands
ten Jews,
chosen by us
and handed over to him
before tomorrow evening.
Tomorrow is Purim,
and the enemy,
planning to avenge
Haman’s ten sons,
will hang ten of our own,
says the oldest
of the old Jews.
And he asks:
What are we to do, rabbi?
Tell us what to do.