From Doubt to Discovery: Alon's Purim Journey Through Jewish History

When Alon attended the annual “Yesh Atid” youth conference on Purim night, his mind was absorbed in Jewish history. And then it happened.

Alon, a high school student from Herzliya enrolled in a law preparatory program, joined other young members of the Yesh Atid party to show his support. He was seen as a rising figure, especially as the son of someone prominent. When he arrived at the packed Purim conference, the room was buzzing with excitement. Costumed characters filled the hall, many dressed as intense and even scary movie figures rather than lighthearted ones. Alon, uninterested in dressing up, sat among the more serious crowd, those concerned about the future of the country. He was filled with pride as he looked up at the stage. Prominent left-wing politicians sat alongside senior judges, figures he rarely saw in real life. Alon admired them deeply, grateful for their efforts to preserve what he believed were enlightened values. In his eyes, they were the ones protecting the country from “darkness”, namely, traditional Judaism, which he saw as backward and threatening. He felt lucky to be on what he believed was the right side. He was ready to fight for democracy and equality for all citizens. He simply couldn’t understand how anyone still clung to outdated traditions.

More than anything, he couldn’t grasp how the “blacks”, as he derogatorily referred to the Haredim (ultra-Orthodox Jews), who didn’t serve in the army or hold jobs, could live off others while remaining stuck in ancient customs. To Alon, their rituals felt like idolatry.

Alon saw himself as a thinker. He didn’t speak lightly. He sincerely wanted to understand the connection between the Judaism he grew up with and the shtetl Jews who insisted on living as if they were still in the Middle Ages. It saddened him. If history could be rewritten, he imagined Moses staying in Pharaoh’s palace, ruling Egypt as a prince, instead of leading the Jews through the desert for forty years and receiving a Torah interpreted, he believed by extremists. He wished that Matityahu the Hasmonean had embraced Greek ideals, becoming a strong athlete instead of a bearded zealot. If only Ezra the Scribe hadn’t broken up intermarried couples, maybe antisemitism would have disappeared, and Jews would’ve become enlightened long ago.

Lost in thought, Alon barely listened to the speaker. His head slouched, spinning with ideas, imagining all the turning points in Jewish history where things, in his opinion, had gone wrong. Even Rambam, Maimonides, the brilliant doctor and philosopher ended up, to his disappointment, on the traditional side. Why, Alon wondered, hadn’t modern, liberal Jewish leaders emerged two thousand years ago?

To his left, the bar table overflowed with drinks. As the alcohol flowed, Alon’s thoughts drifted even further back in time. Purim, he mused, could have been such a refined holiday. What if the Book of Esther had portrayed Jews in a more cultured way? Why didn’t they give Haman a lawyer? Why did they punish his sons too? Killing thousands of Persians, how barbaric. Didn’t anyone value free speech and individual rights back then?

“Why resort to violence?” said a voice behind him.

Startled, Alon turned around. An elderly man stood nearby, his long white beard flowing over his clothes, his eyes gentle yet piercing. He wore a white cloak and a large yarmulke that covered most of his head. Was this a costume?

“Who are you?” Alon asked.

“I heard your thoughts,” the man said kindly. “You wanted to understand. So I came to take you on a journey through Jewish history. To help you see where you come from, who your people are, and most importantly, to lift the veil of confusion and pride that blocks your heart from seeing the truth.”

Before Alon could reply, he suddenly found himself standing among Jews enslaved in Egypt. Harsh Egyptian guards towered over them. Alon’s heart ached at the sight of the suffering, the scars from whips, the hopelessness. Idols filled the streets, true idol worship.

“Moses fled to Midian,” the guide explained. “It was Hashem’s plan to shape him into a leader. If he had stayed as Pharaoh’s prince, as you suggested, he wouldn’t have led the Jews to freedom. Had that happened, your ancestors might still be slaves in Egypt.”

Alon shivered.

“But the world outlawed slavery 150 years ago,” Alon protested.

“You may not know this,” the guide replied, “but before the Exodus, no slave had ever escaped Egypt. The black slaves in America were freed because the world had already learned from the Torah. The moral code of humanity was shaped by the Torah your people received at Sinai. Democracy, justice, human rights, all these values all began with the Torah.”

“But what does that have to do with me?”

“Everything. You were raised on crumbs from the cake. You value freedom, but you don’t see the Torah itself, the whole cake beneath layers of falsehood you’ve been taught. Your teachers didn’t want you to find it. Because in the Torah lies Hashem, the Creator, and with Him come obligations. They feared you’d return to your roots. You called mitzvot, commandments, idolatry. But they are true freedom.”

“But Haredim live by rituals—”

“And without them, you wouldn’t be Jewish. There would be no Jewish people. No Jewish state. You wouldn’t even have anyone to disagree with. You think you’re free, but you're enslaved to time, to money, to the media, to society. You don’t even realize you’ve never seen true light. You were born in a dark cave and believe that’s all there is. But there is sunlight and it’s been hidden from you.”

“So I’m the one in darkness?”

“Yes,” said the old man. “As long as you keep asking but don’t seek the answers, you’ll stay lost in that darkness.”

“Okay, I don’t even know why I’m talking to you anymore,” Alon snapped. “Just take me back to the party.”

“No. You still haven’t gotten your answer about the Book of Esther. First, you need to meet the Greeks.”

Suddenly, Alon stood in a massive stadium, packed with spectators. He watched in horror as prisoners were thrown to lions while the crowd cheered. Even respectable women applauded the gruesome spectacle. Alon fled outside, only to find people fighting in the streets, some to the death.

“Where are the wise Greeks?” Alon asked, shocked.

“You just saw them,” the old man said.

“But they were philosophers, scholars!”

“Yes. A few were wise. But knowledge doesn’t mean morality. You can be brilliant and still be evil.”

“But you can’t deny their intelligence.”

“They took their wisdom from the Torah. King Ptolemy forced seventy Jewish sages to translate the Torah into Greek. Many nations picked up crumbs of wisdom from us. Even Christianity and Islam are distorted offshoots of the Torah.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“If Matityahu had embraced Greek culture, as you wished, you'd be Greek or Turkish today, not Jewish. You wouldn’t be wrestling with any of these questions.”

“Okay,” Alon sighed. “I need to think. This is a lot.”

“One last thing,” the old man said. “You asked about the deaths of Haman’s followers in the Megillah.”

“Please don’t take me there too. My head is spinning.”

“I won’t. But let me ask you, do you believe the Nazis deserved the death penalty?”

“Of course. The Nuremberg Trials were justice. They hanged the ten leaders who planned the Holocaust. They got what they deserved.”

“Then you have your answer. The men killed by Esther’s decree were no different. They were eager to carry out genocide. Justice was done.”

The old man placed his hand on Alon’s back.

“Ouch!” Alon cried and suddenly woke up.

His friend was shaking him.

“Alon! You’ve been asleep for ten minutes. Too much wine, maybe? You should come watch the skit, they're dressed as ultra-Orthodox Jews with funny masks. It’s hilarious!”

“No,” Alon said quietly, rising to his feet. “I need to take off the mask I’m wearing first.”

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” his friend laughed.

But Alon was already walking away.