A word of Torah:

           This week we celebrate Purim when we read the story of Esther, Mordecai and Haman. We are told we must lose our sense of judgment through drinking or just plain silliness until ad de-lo yada--we do not know the difference between Mordecai (a hero of the story) and Haman (a villain). (Tractate Megillah 7b). On Purim, we are to let go and become silly fools. We shout out loud to drown out Haman. We put on skits that make fun of ourselves and even that which we usually hold in respect, the Torah. 

           The story is told as a farce with ridiculous coincidences that put its characters in just the right or wrong place—Mordecai just happens to overhear the plot against the king or Haman decides to visit the king in the middle of the night just as the king is deciding to reward Mordecai. The story is extremely implausible. The height of its absurdity occurs when, in response to Queen Vashti’s “recalcitrance,” the king and his advisors proclaim a decree that all wives need to respect their husbands. Making such a decree just proves the cluelessness of these powerful men who actually have no power. After all the book is called the Book of Esther not Mordecai.

           Yet, the truth is there is always a danger that someone will use their beliefs to disparage others, persecute or even kill the people with whom they disagree. Calling upon us to not see the difference between Mordecai and Haman helps prevent us from idealizing and even idolizing that which we hold sacred. It points out how easy it is to change from Mordecai into Haman, from a crusader for justice into simply a crusader.
           In the world of ad de-lo yada, rules and inhibitions are overturned (within reason, of course). Everything is topsy-turvy. Poking fun at ourselves and those things we hold dear gives us a better perspective on life. Both for the sake of Torah and ourselves, we need Purim to laugh at what we value and thus paradoxically gain a clearer context to live by the values we cherish.

          On Purim we laugh at our self-righteousness. We make fun of the tradition and text, the Torah that we treat with such respect every other day of the year. In that mockery, we prevent the Torah from becoming an idol frozen in stone. In order to better value the Torah, we need to laugh at it and ourselves one day a year. 

When all the other festivals will be abolished (in the messianic future), Purim will remain.
                                                                           Midrash Mishle 9:2