When in a popular Purim song we sing “Hava narishah-rash, rash, rash,” “Wind your noisemakers,” all that "rashing" does momentarily make the darkness go away. But in what direction do we turn as we step into the light?

It’s not that the sound is supposed to

It was not until I joined my synagogue’s religious education committee that I learned that many American Jews do not celebrate Halloween. From the time I could trick-or-treat, I knew the basics of Halloween: There were witches and goblins, I went trick-or-treating and got candy, and later in life, we collected money for UNICEF. As far as I was concerned, religion had nothing to do with Halloween.

Perhaps the real reason Purim is so popular here is that it takes place somewhere else, in the Diaspora – a place with which we Israelis have a love–hate relationship.

We laughed so hard - at Cantor Doug Cotler's cleverly funny songs, at Rabbi Julia Weisz's ridiculously hysterical costumes, at my inappropriate yet Purimly-acceptable riffs on Megillat Esther, the story of Purim. We laughed out loud, belly laughed. And in between, we reflected on lessons of transcendent importance. We adults, we did.

The festival of Purim, with all of its frivolity, can also be understood as a lesson about the masks we wear. We all have them, those masks.

This somewhat famous passage from the Talmud has often been interpreted as a Rabbinic injunction, that a person’s obligation on Purim is to get so drunk on wine that they lose regular consciousness. In an age where more of us are enlightened about drinking responsibly the advice of Rabba does not necessarily fit our current culture.

This year, we celebrate the beginning of the month of Adar between “Shabbat Shekalim” and the Shabbat when we read the Torah portion “Truma” (donation).

"When Adar enters, joy increases!" So says the wisdom of our tradition (B. Ta'anit 29a.) Why? The simplest answer is that the month of Adar contains the festival of Purim, and Purim is a festival of rejoicing.

Although Purim can seem, on the surface, like a

A few years ago, I found myself in a bit of a Purim predicament specifically pertaining to the “to tell or not to tell” dilemma regarding Vashti, one of the oft forgotten players in our Purim tale.