Dear TLS Editor,

With Purim approaching, I would like to share a thought that has been weighing on me, and perhaps it will resonate with others as well.

When we learn the Megillah, it is easy to read the story of Mordechai and view his actions as obvious, even expected. Of course Mordechai refused to participate in the festivities of Achashverosh. Of course he stood firm. Of course he didn’t bend.

But if we try to place ourselves back in that moment, I am not so sure it was so simple.

Imagine the conversation at the time.

“Mordechai, how can you not attend? Achashverosh’s government supports the Jewish community. He allows us to live peacefully. Perhaps he even helped fund our mosdos. The food is kosher! What exactly is the problem? Why make a scene? Why risk everything?”

After all, Chazal tell us that the food at Achashverosh’s party was indeed kosher. On paper, there may have been many justifications to attend. It would have been easy to rationalize participation, to explain it away, to say, “We can be there without being influenced.”

And yet Mordechai refused.

He understood that something deeper was at stake. It wasn’t just about the technical halachos of the food. It was about values, about identity, about the message being sent by participating in a culture that was fundamentally at odds with Torah.

Mordechai saw what others either could not see, or chose not to see.

And perhaps many criticized him. Perhaps they said he was being extreme. Perhaps they argued that he was endangering the community by taking such a hard stance.

But history showed that Mordechai was right.

Which brings me to a question for our generation.

We live in a time of tremendous bracha, where many in our community have achieved significant success and influence. With that success often comes a certain culture — one that sometimes celebrates excess, ostentation, and values that are not aligned with Torah.

There are events, environments, and social norms that, while they may be technically permissible in certain respects, still feel worlds apart from the spirit of Torah.

And again, the justifications are familiar.

“These people support Torah institutions.”
“They give tzedakah.”
“They help our mosdos survive.”
“Why make waves? Why alienate them?”

But I wonder: where is the Mordechai of our time?

Who will be willing to stand up and say that not everything that is technically permissible aligns with Torah values? Who will have the courage to draw a line, even when it is uncomfortable, even when there may be real consequences?

Who will be willing to forgo honor, opportunity, and support in order to stand for what is right?

Purim reminds us that salvation can come from unexpected places, but it also reminds us that it begins with individuals who are willing to stand alone when necessary.

Perhaps the question is not only who will be the Mordechai — but whether we are prepared, in our own way, to follow his example.

A Freilichen Purim to all.

Marty Stein-Balmtimore, MD

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