The Serious Lesson of Purim
A Message from Rabbi Bauman
The Shofar: Spring 2025
Dear Touro Synagogue Family,
It was a joy to see so many of you during the Carnival season. Whether this has been a personally joyous or challenging season for you, I hope you have found shelter and purpose within this synagogue community. In what is a time of tremendous turmoil for us as Americans and as Jews, it is always my hope that the culture we build within Touro is a port in a storm and a source of inspiration.
It is hard to believe that we are entering the spring holiday season and anticipating the end of the school year and the start of summer. The Festival of Purim begins on March 13th, and its full moon reminds us that Passover is only one month away. And Passover launches us into the introspective period of Counting the Omer, culminating with Shavuot seven weeks later, commemorating the receiving of the Torah.
On Purim Eve, we will gather at Touro in costumes and playfully engage with the story of Esther and the triumph of the Jews of Shushan over the Wicked Haman and their revenge upon all who would harm them, our graggers and laughter drowning out the evil of Haman’s actions and emphasizing our delight at his demise. The revelry of Purim’s observance ironically masks a story filled with these most solemn of themes: sexual coercion, antisemitism, attempted genocide, and an often overlooked part of the Megillah, the brutality of vengeance.
By the time Passover comes, the mask is removed, and we are reminded in the strongest of terms that we may not rejoice over the death of our enemies. In the Midrash, God is disgusted with the angels’ celebration at the shores of the Red Sea upon the drowning of the Egyptians. God says, “My creations are drowning… how dare you sing songs of celebration?!” The drops of wine we remove from the second cup to remember those who lost their lives for our freedom is our moral instruction, a reminder that we must value all human life, even that of our enemies.
Purim, true to form, delivers the same chastisement as Pesach does but on its head, by granting us one day and one day only to boo Haman and cheer for his execution and that of his sons and followers. The medium of Purim’s absurdity is the message, that visiting the most gruesome revenge upon one’s enemies is not permitted in Judaism, and the most permissive our tradition can be is to grant us one day a year to fantasize about such a revenge. We are never to forget that this day stands apart and is the opposite of what is expected of us at other times.
Purim and Passover’s lesson, that we must not embody the moral rot we find so abhorrent in our enemies, has been on my mind so much throughout recent weeks and months. It is moral to strive for survival and to fight for safety and self-preservation. But identifying the line between a righteous struggle to protect ourselves and the indulgence in self-aggrandizement and vengeance is not always easy and is absolutely essential.
We see this struggle playing out in real time all around us. Only a few weeks ago, we learned of the horrific deaths of Ariel and Kfir Bibas, the youngest Israeli hostages, along with their mother Shiri and several other innocents whose bodies were returned to Israel in a horrific and obscene celebration in Gaza. So many of these hostages’ families are crying out, “Release, not revenge!” They hope and pray and work to preserve the fragile ceasefire so that more loved ones can return home. The impulse for vengeance is strong among all those who have lost so much, and the fate of Israel, Gaza, and the entire region rests upon the question: Can the lesson of Purim transcend? Can continued vengeance be relegated to the world of fantasy, and can those who cherish life center a reality based upon what can be built, not destroyed?
Under the Trump administration, America’s presence and legacy on the international stage is changing dramatically. The courage of our parents and grandparents’ generations to fight against fascist dictators in previous eras was a rejection of the Hamans of the world and their reigns of terror. It was a moral claim that opportunistic material gain was not as important as democratic values and human rights. But their commitment and sacrifice is being diminished by the implementation of a new vision that valorizes not American values but American power and might. Who are we if we cannot even properly identify who today’s Hamans are? And who will we be if we turn our back on our history, abandoning our closest allies and our commitment to aid for the most vulnerable of the world for the sake of a dark and distrustful world order?
And so very close to home, our Governor is planning to resume executions in Louisiana, now by the method of nitrogen gassing. As you likely know, there is a coalition in place called Jews Against Gassing, convened and led by many Touro congregants and leaders that is urging the governor to change course and is working together with other coalitions to achieve that goal. Our system of justice must not indulge in acts of vengeance by allowing the implementation of this slow and painful method of execution, even upon those who have made the gravest of mistakes. Our humanity depends on whether we can dispense justice without cruelty.
In closing, I will share with you my words to that effect offered at a press conference on the steps of Touro Synagogue a few weeks ago. To me, this time of year offers us a chance to remember that we are called to be principled and compassionate, even as we are called to be strong, courageous, and active for the sake of our own protection. May we have the wisdom to do both and never to sacrifice one for the other.
Looking forward to celebrating these special days with you and to continuing to learn and grow together along the way.
L’Shalom,
Rabbi Katie Bauman
Jews Against Gassing Press Conference
Words by Rabbi Katie Bauman
Delivered Monday, February 17, 2025
Our gathering represents a statewide coalition called “Jews Against Gassing,” Jewish community members seeking the removal of the recently approved use of gassing as a method of execution from the laws of the State of Louisiana.
This method, called nitrogen hypoxia, forces a person to breathe pure nitrogen gas through a mask, eventually causing organ failure and suffocation. Witnesses to gassing report observing a horrifically lengthy and painful death. Some of those in this coalition are opposed to the death penalty in all its forms; others are not. But despite such differences of opinion, we are united in our belief that gassing is uniquely abhorrent, and we object in the strongest of terms to its inclusion in the laws of our state. While gassing has only been used a few times in the United States, it was used thousands of times by the Nazi regime to methodically exterminate millions of our ancestors.
And so we have come here today to say that our Jewish history — as a people whom a democratically elected government tried to gas to death and very nearly succeeded – this history matters here and now. Let the State of Louisiana have nothing in common with the Nazi regime of Germany. Let us not allow our efforts at a principled system of justice, however flawed, to be sullied by relying on an execution method associated with mass murder.
Governments have been punishing people by execution for the entirety of human history. But modern, ethical, humane administrations no longer subject people to burning at the stake…to drawing and quartering… to stoning…to crucifixion… because we reject the brutality of these methods. Gassing belongs in that category.
For the sake of our ancestors who died in the gas chambers, and for the sake of all those people of faith who strive to do the right thing in hard situations and to fulfill God’s will here on earth, we must pray and we must mobilize to avert the grotesque moral failure that the inclusion of gassing as a form of execution represents for the good people of our state.