Why is this pasuk so significant in teaching us the main lesson of the Megillah? And what, in fact, is the lesson?

IT

was a memorable Purim, not for what happened, but for what didn’t happen. Spoiler alert: I am not the hero of this story.

It was close to forty years ago, while I was learning in the Chicago kollel. My chavrusa at the time hailed from Cincinnati. Given that Chicago is a four-and-a-half-hour drive away, my friend’s parents would come to visit from time to time, and we got to know each other and develop a warm relationship.

Sadly, after a few years, my friend’s mother became seriously ill and eventually passed away on Taanis Esther. The levayah was to take place in the Queen City on Purim. It was pretty obvious that none of the yungeleit in our kollel would be able to attend, but as I was a chavrusa of the aveil and an acquaintance of the niftar, my heartstrings were pulling at me to make the trip.

Driving was not an option, as I had to hear Megillah leining before I left, which was simply impossible if I wanted to get there before the levayah was over. To fly would have required hearing the Megillah after alos hashachar but before neitz hachamah, rushing to catch a plane, zipping on over to the chapel for the levayah, and heading right back home to barely make it in time for seudas Purim. But what do you not do for a chavrusa, who will be all alone in his grief?

I had all but decided it was the right thing to do, with my wife’s blessings, until I inquired into the plane fare. It was the astronomical sum of $550 (we are talking 1980s here), something that a kollel salary hardly covered. After deliberating back and forth, we decided it was not the right thing to do, as Hashem hadn’t gifted us the Power Ball winning ticket that month, and Go Fund Me wasn’t a thing yet. I would have to stay home after all.

On Shushan Purim, I came to kollel as usual and was promptly greeted by Reb Izzy, a staple of the community and frequent presence in our beis medrash. He took pride in his strong connection with the yungeleit and would occasionally deliver donuts for my children to our apartment. His ever-present freilech appearance took on a more serious look as he approached me.

“I heard you went to the levayah yesterday. I want to have a cheilek in the mitzvah. Please tell me how much you spent so I can reimburse you.”

I couldn’t believe it. I had been second-guessing myself as to whether my decision was the right one or not; was this not a siman min haShamayim that you don’t make cheshbonos when it comes to a mitzvah, especially levayas hameis? Had I squandered a great chance?

I find myself wondering about what lesson I should take from this memory that keeps recurring year after year. With the passage of time, I am still on the fence as to whether fiscal responsibility should have won the day over an act of blind bitachon that we would somehow be able to pay for a flight I couldn’t afford. However, I have come to realize that the real lesson to be learned is from Reb Izzy, who exemplified one of Purim’s core teachings based on Chazal.

TO understand what it is that Chazal want us to take from Purim, it is worth examining a short passage from Maseches Megillah (10b). The Gemara records a number of drashos that were made as an introduction to the main lessons to be learned from Megillas Esther.

One of those drashos is on a pasuk in Koheles (2:26): “Ki l’adam shetov lefanav nasan chochmah v’daas v’simchah.” Simply translated, it means that a person who is pleasing to Hashem will receive wisdom, knowledge, and happiness. The Gemara says this is a reference to Mordechai. The second half of the pasuk, “V’lachotei nasan inyan le’esof v’lichnos,” meaning the sinner gathers and collects wealth. This is referring to Haman. “Laseis l’tov lifnei HaElokim,” the end of the pasuk, alludes to Mordechai and Esther, who wound up being given all that wealth Haman had accumulated.

Why is this pasuk so significant in teaching us the main lesson of the Megillah? And what, in fact, is the lesson?

Let’s turn our attention to Megillas Esther itself, most notably the end. The Megillah anticlimactically signs off with what seems to be trivial information, a postscript of sorts after the miracle and salvation. We are informed that Achashveirosh enacted new taxes on his entire kingdom after the dust had settled and the drama of the Megillah story came to a close.

In contrast, we are also informed that Mordechai became the mishneh lamelech — second to the king, a doresh tov l’amo — seeker of good for his nation, so much so that his contemporaries looked down upon him for abandoning his previous post as the kulo kodesh spiritual leader of the nation whose every moment was dedicated to Torah study.

Why do we need to know all this?

What is even more puzzling is that the Gemara records a dispute as to what parts of the Megillah must absolutely be read to fulfill the mitzvah properly. All of the opinions revolve around what it considered the main feature of the miracle. These last three pesukim would seem to be the most inconsequential ones of the entire Megillah. Yet everyone agrees that these pesukim are an absolute requirement, and if one doesn’t read or hear them, he is not yotzei the mitzvah. What does this teach us?

Rav Yankel Galinsky ztz”l related a conversation he had with the legendary Ponevezher Rav that may shed light on this perplexing question and also teach us all some lessons for life and give us fresh insight.

The Rav had approached a wealthy potential donor for his yeshivah and other organizational activities, and was met with a stern refusal. After attempting to persuade him about the value of the mitzvos he was being offered and the significance of mesirus nefesh, the gentleman had the audacity to ask how he, the renowned Ponevezher Rav, was moser nefesh for Klal Yisrael.

Not one to be outdone, the Rav shared a vort from his rebbi, the venerable Chofetz Chaim. The Rambam writes in his introduction to Peirush Hamishnayos that if not for people who appear crazy (lulei hamishtag’im), the world could not possibly exist. Merchants travel to faraway lands to bring goods back to their neck of the woods at great personal peril and expense. People build entire buildings and neighborhoods, even though they might not even enjoy them for very long. When we think about it, it smacks of meshuga’as. But if not for people like them, we would all be much worse off, and the world as we know it could hardly exist.

By the same token, the Chofetz Chaim added, the kiyum of Torah is also only made possible by those that are mishtag’im as well. This is alluded to in the pasuk from Tehillim we quote in the Rosh Hashanah Musaf, “Teref nasan lireiyav yizkor l’olam briso.” Simply translated, it means that Hashem provides those who fear Him with food and sustenance.

However, the word teref can also allude to losing one’s mind, as we say in Unesaneh Tokef on Yamim Noraim, “Mi yitareif,” which means who will chas v’shalom have no mental stability, as opposed to “mi yishakeit,” who will be calm. Hashem gave those who will ensure the perpetuation of Torah, his yereiyav, the middah of teref; they do seemingly crazy things to guarantee we will have yeshivos, schools, and everything else needed to have a Torah society. Traveling all over the world for funds is one great example.

The Ponevezher Rav told his friend that he was being moser nefesh by doing one of those crazy things, running around wherever he could to collect funds for the yeshivah. With sincere humility, he told this man about his former life as a rav and rosh yeshivah before the war, and the reputation he earned as an outstanding talmid of the Chofetz Chaim.

“I sacrificed the opportunity to become the gadol hador. Don’t you think I too can give shiurim like Rav Shach and Rav Dovid Povarsky? But I gave it all away to support the yeshivah instead! That is my mesirus nefesh.” (I was told by someone who was present that Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz ztz”l made a point of this in his hesped of the Ponevezher Rav, by saying that he gave away his chance to be the Rabi Akiva Eiger of the generation.)

It was not about himself. It was all about what he could do for others. And of course, he came away with a substantial donation for Ponevezh Yeshivah.

Returning to the end of Megillas Esther, we can perhaps suggest the following. The Purim story was an outstanding miracle, as we know in hindsight after reading the Megillah and seeing how all the puzzle pieces produced a neis worthy of saying she’asah nissim la’avoseinu, just like on Chanukah. How does one react to such an incredible event of history, especially when he is one of the main characters of the story?

The Megillah answers the question. The Achashveiroshes of the world see it as yet another opportunity to fill their coffers and load up on shekalim. It is all nothing more than what is described in the history books of Poras and Modai, just as the Megillah references a few pesukim previously. No hashgachah, no nissim, no tefillos or taanis, nothing more than a get-richer-quick scheme. It is all about me and for me.

Then there are the Mordechais out there, to whom the word “self” is nivul peh. One would have perhaps thought that once this miraculous neis had concluded, Mordechai would go back to doing whatever any member of Anshei Knesses Hagedolah would do, learning and spreading Torah to the masses.

But that was not the order of the day. Mordechai knew there was work to be done, flocks of Yidden to attend to, and even being mishtadel in the halls of government when needed. In the eyes of some people, he had turned into an askan instead of becoming gadol hador, and they weren’t so forgiving. But Mordechai knew the role he had been thrust into. It was not about him, but about the people.

He became the template for the likes of the Rebbes of Klausenburg and Satmar, as well as the litvishe gedolim such as Rav Aharon Kotler and the Ponevezher Rav, who after their own miracles of survival devoted their lives to focus on everyone else. It was never about themselves.

Esther taught us the same lesson when Mordechai informed her of the plight of her people and that she had become the person of the hour to beseech Achashveirosh. She didn’t hesitate or focus on herself. Instead, “ka’asher avadti, avadti.” She sacrificed her entire marriage to Mordechai, and her life as she knew it. It was not about her. It was all about the people and what must be done for them.

When the leaders of that generation heeded Esther’s call for kisvuni l’doros, they wanted to make sure that we got the message right. Simply repeating the Purim story wasn’t going to cut it. We must be guided to learn what to take away from it. We must read the end and make sure we walk away from the Megillah different from who we were when we walked into shul.

As Rabbi Berel Wein ztz”l said upon exiting the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., “Instead of asking why so many people died, I must ask why my family was kept alive.”

And now what do I do with my life? Is it about me or is it about them? Achashveirosh had one answer, Mordechai had another. And this is one of the lessons we must take with us from the Megillah going forward. The last three pesukim are required reading. They are the culmination of the story, the lesson to take with us.

IF we glance back at Koheles and the pasuk quoted above that refers to Mordechai as a “tov lefanav,” we will notice what kind of tov Koheles is talking about. Just two pesukim before, the pasuk says, “Ein tov ba’adam sheyochal v’shasah v’herah es nafsho tov ba’amalo.” Rashi and others understand this pasuk to be understood in question form. Isn’t it good for a person who has what to eat and drink to do the proper and righteous thing by sharing it with others? Tov does not mean good for oneself but rather good to others. As the mefarshim there point out, one who is blessed with wealth should understand why he has been so blessed, to give to others. This is tov.

And this was the tov Koheles is using to describe Mordechai two pesukim later. His entire focus was never on himself, but on everyone else, even at tremendous spiritual expense that his contemporaries could not properly appreciate. The entire Purim story could have never happened had Mordechai chosen selfish over selfless, starting by bringing Esther into his home in the first place, our first introduction to him.

Had Esther herself chosen her own self-interest over her mesirus nefesh for her people, we would have no Megillas Esther at all. This is the overriding lesson the Gemara is teaching that we have to take away from the Megillah. It is both the introduction and the very end. And our avodas hayom revolves around benefiting others through gifts of food and matanos l’evyonim, which the Rambam tells us makes us “domeh l’Shechinah.” He is the epitome of tov u’meitiv and we aspire for the same.

Looking back at the missed levayah, I envy and admire the Izzys of the world who see a devar mitzvah and immediately ask themselves what they can do to have a portion in kavod hameis, where others may simply ignore it altogether. He had no personal stake in the matter whatsoever and didn’t even know the woman who had passed away. But it didn’t matter. If he could afford to help, he would reflectively open his hand to do so. He demonstrated tov at its best, even if I can’t say the same about myself. It was even a Purim lesson after all. Reb Izzy, the hero of this story, was doresh tov l’amo.

Our gedolim such as the Ponevezher Rav, who saved hundreds of children through his Batei Avos and was moser nefesh to build his illustrious yeshivah, and Rav Aharon Kotler, who saved multitudes of lives with his unwavering devotion to hatzalah work during and after the war, carried out their mesirus nefesh on an almost unimaginably grand scale. But you don’t need to build major institutions or save communities to apply this lesson.

Every day there are opportunities around us where, if we look beyond ourselves, we will discover how we can do something for others. If we are less absorbed in ourselves the way that Achashveirosh was, but are rather sensitive to the needs of others the way that a doresh tov l’amo such as Mordechai was, we will become alert to these opportunities.

If a balabos is blessed to have the opportunity to have a cheilek in others’ limud haTorah or other divrei mitzvah, ashrei chelko for noticing and doing his part, even when he wasn’t asked to. We should be inspired by the good Jews and nashim tzidkanios who creatively and proactively fill needs they notice without being asked, sometimes before those around them are even aware of the need. Who knows how much hatavah will be taking place all over the world over Purim by our holy nation that prides itself on tzedakah v’chesed like no other? This is why the pasuk of doresh tov l’amo is nonnegotiable.

We have an entire Megillah to teach us the value of what it is to be a true tov u’meitiv. Mordechai and Esther taught us well. May we all merit to learn our lesson and follow their example.

A freilechen Purim.

Rabbi Henoch Plotnik is a talmid of the yeshivos of Philadelphia and Ponevezh and has been active in chinuch and rabbanus for over 30 years. He currently serves as the mashgiach ruchani at the Mesivta of West Bloomfield, Michigan.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1101)