Friday, February 27, 2026

Purimfest 1946 and Beyond: Villains, Heroes and Revealing the Courage Within

Nazis on trial in Nuremberg 1946 & freed Israeli hostage Alon Ohel as a 6-year-old

Purim is neither simple nor superficial. 

Beyond the noise of the groggers and behind the masks of celebration lies a profound Jewish struggle: How do we make sense of Jewish history marked by suffering, resilience, and improbable survival? 

The answer lies not in easy explanations or metaphysical certainties, but in Megillat Esther itself. It is more than a Biblical book; it Is a scroll that reveals how meaning is found in the most hidden places. The very name Megillat Esther captures this experience. Megillah - a scroll that also means to reveal. Esther - a name with the root hester, concealment. God’s name is absent from the narrative, yet divine presence peeks through in human courage and timing. The Purim story does not give us a doctrine of history.

Megillat Esther teaches us how to read history as a story of revelation amidst concealment.

One of the most striking “Megillah” encounters between ancient and modern history occurred right after the Holocaust. As Julius Streicher, a principal architect of Nazi antisemitic propaganda, marched to the gallows at Nuremberg on October 16, 1946, he cried out, “Purimfest 1946!” That phrase struck a chord with Jewish memory because it suggests that even the villains of history sense the power of the Purim narrative. Streicher had pored over books about Purim, marked passages about Haman, and twisted the ancient story into propaganda. At his death, his cry revealed not triumph, but the haunting recognition that Jewish history would not be extinguished.

“Purimfest 1946” invites us to read Jewish history like a Megillah. We see villains in every generation: Haman in Shushan, Nazis in Europe, Hamas today. They are the enemies we dread, the forces that seek to end Jewish life and memory. Yet, like Haman, their downfall becomes part of our story, a painful but undeniable pattern of survival.

Rabbinical commentators found coded allusions to future judgment and justice in the Megillah. The small letters taf, shin, and zayin are written in the scroll within the names of Haman’s ten sons being hung. These letters have the numerical value corresponding to the year Streicher was executed – 5707/1946. A coincidence or a connection between the Haman’s ten sons and ten Nazis hanged two millennia later.

Certainly, we are justified in drawing parallels. But Purim does not reduce history to symbols or secret codes. The real lesson of Megillat Esther is that patterns in history do not replace human responsibility; they invite us to find meaning while resisting simplification.

The Purim story is not only about villains. It is equally about heroes whose courage and moral clarity reveal something hidden in history.

U.S. Army Master Sergeant Roddie Edmonds will be awarded the Medal of Honor this coming Monday, Purim Eve, for protecting Jewish soldiers in a German POW camp during World War II. When commanded by a Nazi officer to separate the Jewish prisoners from the others, Edmonds refused, declaring, “We are all Jews here.” He stood between evil and the vulnerable, saving countless lives at great personal risk. Edmonds is a Purim hero, a modern-day Mordecai. He did not seek honor; he acted with steadfast righteousness.

Roddie Edmonds’ courage reveals something essential. Heroes in the Jewish story often emerge not from extraordinary power, but from ordinary people who choose moral courage over cowardice. Our age, too, produces its own Purim heroes - not only on battlefields but ordinary people facing down extraordinary situations. 

Last year, musician John Ondrasik, best known as Five for Fighting, released a new version of his hit song "Superman" dedicated to the Israeli hostages who were then still being held in Gaza. He wanted to bring more global attention to their ordeal. Ondrasik said the inspiration for the project came from the parallels between the October 7 Hamas attacks in Israel and the trauma Americans experienced on 9/11. "It became very clear that ‘Superman’ should be the song," he said. "With the history of 9/11, and the fact that, for Israel, October 7 is their 9/11."

When reworking the song, Ondrasik said one image stood out: a childhood photo of hostage Alon Ohel wearing Superman pajamas. "Seeing the picture of him in his Superman jammies as a toddler made it very clear," Ondrasik said. The hostage families’ strength and perseverance over months of unimaginable torment and devastation, often seems superhuman. 

"One does not have to be Jewish to support Idit, her family, Israel. One merely needs to be human, have a heart, have a soul." Ondrasik says he dreamed of being able to play the song with Alon at his side. This Monday, he got his chance. At AIPAC’s Congressional Summit in Washington, Alon accompanied John on the piano to sing “Superman” in front of thousands of incredibly moved pro-Israel activists. 

Ordinary people doing extraordinary things. It’s a modern Purimfest anthem: not a celebration of might, but of human heart, resilience, and solidarity.

The Superman of comic lore is a figure of power, but the Jewish heroes of our day - like Roddie Edmonds or the men and women who risk everything for others - are symbols of power rooted in compassion and in choosing to move forward through the fear. That is the true spirit of Purim: not merely victory, but meaningful victory shaped by courage and covenant.

Purim does not offer a neat theology of history; it invites us into a lifelong pursuit of interpretation, purpose, and action. We celebrate a God Who remains hidden, yet Whose presence is discernible in the courage of the righteous and the survival of the Jewish people against all odds.

Enemies will rise. Villains will plot. History will hurt. But courageous acts - acts of kindness, defiance, and moral clarity - reveal glimpses of divine purpose. That is the hidden meaning we seek in the Megillah. That is why we celebrate Purim not simply as a story of ancient reversal, but as a living tradition that teaches us to read history as a narrative of concealment and revelation, to recognize both the villains and the heroes, and to find in every generation its own Purimfest of ora, v'simcha, v'sasone, vi'yekar  - light, joy, jubilation, and courage. Kein tihye lanu - So may it be for all of us!

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