I once got a call from a friend whose husband had just been in an accident. Her preschool-aged son, around the same age as my daughter (I had two kids at the time), had a friend over and she wanted to bring them both to my house so she could join her husband at the hospital.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m embarrassed to say that I hesitated. In that moment of crisis, I froze: Wait, what? Can I handle two more little kids, along with my own, for who knows how long? I don\u2019t know\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n Only when she reacted to my non-reaction, and emphasized the enormity of the situation, was I able to see sense and give the only possible answer: Right, yes, of course, please bring them for as long as you need!<\/em><\/p>\n I like to think my initial reaction isn\u2019t so uncommon. Faced with a new or otherwise frightening situation, one might rally immediately and start identifying and attacking tasks that need to be done \u2013 or one might panic, thinking (at least momentarily) there\u2019s nothing he or she can possibly do. It\u2019s too much, too scary, requires skills we don\u2019t possess\u2026 and maybe we can\u2019t even fathom what \u201cit\u201d is that we might do. Consider the proverbial deer in headlights: Any observer will see that the obvious thing to do is run, but the deer seems to almost forget it has working legs.<\/p>\n Happens to all of us, right?<\/p>\n One might say it happens to three central characters in Megillat Esther.<\/p>\n The most obvious is Esther herself. Mordechai tells her of a terrible royal decree that will destroy the entire Jewish nation, and asks her to plead with the king on their behalf. Seems like the obvious thing to do: she was married to the guy who\u2019d made the decree; who better to tackle the task? But Esther hesitated, and while I\u2019ve suggested there was more going on behind her hesitation<\/strong><\/a>, on a basic level we might read her reaction as a simple case of freezing in crisis. What do you mean? Go to the king? But he didn\u2019t call me; I could be killed for that!<\/em> Only once Mordechai pointed out the flaw in her logic \u2013 Do you think you won\u2019t<\/strong> be killed if you don\u2019t<\/strong> do it?<\/em> \u2013 did Esther wake up and gather her strength to do what obviously had to be done.<\/p>\n And then \u2013 Mordechai himself, according to one midrashic reading, had a similar moment when Esther told him to declare a communal three-day fast on Pesach \u2013 when one is not allowed to fast. As the Midrash Rabbah (Esther Rabbah 8:7) tells it, Mordechai challenged Esther much like she challenged his original charge to go to the king: Wait, what? We\u2019re not allowed to fast on Pesach!<\/em> And then Esther shakes some sense into him, much like he did for her: Elder of Israel, why is it Pesach<\/em>? The midrash then tells us that \u201cimmediately, Mordechai heard and agreed to her words.\u201d<\/p>\n I used to understand Esther\u2019s response as sarcastic, suggesting that Mordechai wasn\u2019t being very bright if he thought they would continue to have Pesach at all if they didn\u2019t take drastic measures, such as declaring a fast even to override the holiday. (Like we say in cases of life-threatening danger on Shabbos: break this one Shabbos so the person will live to observe Shabbos for years to come!)<\/p>\n Recently, though, I saw a different reading of this midrash that I like better. The way the Torah Temimah (on Esther 4:16) explains this pasuk, Esther is being perfectly straight: Mordechai, you are an elder of Israel. Declaring a fast to override a holiday is something you<\/strong>, of all people, have the power to do!<\/em><\/p>\n Just as Mordechai pointed out to Esther that she was the one best suited to go plead with the king \u2013 Esther pointed out to Mordechai that he was perfectly suited to declare a communal fast day.<\/p>\n Sometimes, in a moment of crisis, we forget our own capabilities and even responsibilities. And sometimes, it takes a nudge from someone else to help us see \u2013 or \u201chear\u201d \u2013 reality clearly enough to move<\/em>, to \u201cimmediately agree.\u201d Of course I will! <\/em><\/p>\n And the third example? I have long been troubled by Achashverosh\u2019s response when, once Haman is out of the way, Esther brings him back to the core issue: \u201cLet it be written to take back the scrolls\u2026 that Haman wrote to destroy the Jews\u2026\u201d (8:5) A natural request \u2013 but what does the king say? He can\u2019t do it; his hands are tied. A royal decree can\u2019t be taken back (v. 8).<\/p>\n This pasuk<\/em> always makes me think of the Disney movie, Aladdin<\/em>. For most of the movie, the princess is stuck: she has to marry a prince. Her father is sympathetic, but the law is the law \u2013 until the end, when he gathers himself and declares, \u201cWell, am I Sultan or am I Sultan? From this day forth, the princess can marry whomever she deems worthy.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019ve always wondered why Achashverosh couldn\u2019t do the same. Is he king of 127 provinces, or is he not? (And of course, there are other parallels between the Megillah and Aladdin<\/em> \u2013 like Jafar\u2019s obvious resemblance to Haman.)<\/p>\n What\u2019s interesting here \u2013 and different from the cases above of Esther and Mordechai \u2013 is that apparently, the king\u2019s hands really were tied. With all the analysis of his decisions and debates about his character at other points in the story, and debates about whether he\u2019s foolish or clever, the commentaries I\u2019ve seen all seem to either accept that there really was a law preventing him from undoing his own decree, or understand that doing so wasn\u2019t a viable option because of the effect it would have on his reputation.<\/p>\n Sometimes, in a crisis, we\u2019re right that we can\u2019t do it \u2013 even when it seems to outsiders that we are perfectly suited for the job. Sometimes the deer really won\u2019t be able to run fast enough.<\/p>\n Oddly enough, this king \u2013 though he may or may not have been stupid and\/or wicked \u2013 teaches us something here. Maybe two things.<\/p>\n First, he reminds us that sometimes there are real issues. There are lots of reasons someone might say \u201cno\u201d to a friend with an emergency \u2013 anything from not being home to having the flu to anything else we can (or can\u2019t) imagine. And sometimes we know their reasons, but sometimes we don\u2019t. Even when it seems obvious that someone should be able to help out, or do some job \u2013 we don\u2019t always know the person\u2019s whole story or the reasons behind their refusal. It might be perfectly legitimate; their hands might really be tied. And we may as well give them the benefit of that doubt, especially since most of us are neither stupid nor wicked.<\/p>\n And second \u2013 note that I misrepresented Achashverosh as an example of freezing in a crisis. Whatever else we might say about him, he didn\u2019t really freeze; what he actually did was offer a different solution. Earlier in that same pasuk,<\/em> even before offering excuses about why he can\u2019t take back the decree, Achashverosh says, \u201cYou, write as is good in your eyes, in the king\u2019s name, and seal with the king\u2019s ring.\u201d<\/p>\n Before crushing their hopes by telling them he can\u2019t do as they asked, the king points out there are other ways. Maybe they couldn\u2019t see the other ways themselves at first; maybe they were still in panicked crisis mode. But Achashverosh, a step removed from the panic (it wasn\u2019t his <\/em>nation being threatened!), points out that there are other solutions possible. And once he points that out, they find one, writing a decree allowing the Jews to defend themselves \u2013 a decree that, in the end, does the job.<\/p>\n It\u2019s easy, in crisis mode, to become fixated either on the danger, the obstacles to a solution, or the illusion that there\u2019s only one solution. But if we can take a step back, whether internally or with the help of a more objective outsider, we might be better able to see the door leading out of the crisis \u2013 yes, of course I can! <\/em>Or to see how we might open a door that seemed locked \u2013 yes, I have the ability to change this! <\/em>Or we might realize that one door really is off-limits, but that we can still open another one.<\/p>\n Sarah C. Rudolph is a Jewish educator and freelance writer. She has been sharing her passion for Jewish texts of all kinds for over 15 years, with students of all ages. Sarah\u2019s essays have been published in a variety of internet and print media, including Times of Israel, Kveller,\u00a0Jewish Action<\/a>, The Lehrhaus, TorahMusings, and more. Sarah lives in Cleveland with her husband and four children, but is privileged to learn online with students all over the world through\u00a0www.TorahTutors.org<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0www.WebYeshiva.org<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I once got a call from a friend whose husband had just been in an accident. Her preschool-aged son, around the same age as my daughter (I had two kids at the time), had a friend over and she wanted to bring them both to my house so she could join her husband at the<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":133529,"featured_media":61713,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_cloudinary_featured_overwrite":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[85],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-61712","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-inspiration"],"yoast_head":"\n
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