Unmasked

Has Purim replaced Passover as the best holiday vehicle for expressing individual Jewish identity?

In the cosmology of Jewish holidays, Passover has traditionally been the celebration whose readings and rituals inspire worshipers to question the nature of their own Jewish values and beliefs. For decades, Jews of all persuasions have fashioned their own Seders, some adding a cup for the prophetess Miriam in celebration of Jewish women, others supplementing the Haggadah with a prayer for Darfur—all an affirmation of the celebrants’ core beliefs and of Hebrew heterodoxy.

In recent years, however, another holiday has started eclipsing Passover’s status as Jewish identity’s vastest playground. Sanctioning a host of transgressive behaviors—from drunkenness to masquerading in costume—and commemorating a tale of Jewish valor that culminates in the slaughter of 75,000 Persians more than 2,000 years ago, Purim is increasingly providing Jews of all backgrounds and ages with an opportunity to engage with whatever concerns them personally and politically.

In a way, this shouldn't come as a surprise. The Book of Esther, Purim’s ur-text, is one of only two biblical books that omit any mention of God, focusing instead on individuals and the consequences of their actions. Purim is also a holiday traditionally observed not in the synagogue (Megillah readings aside) or even around the family table, but on the street and in nightclubs, surrounded by friends. Add to that the playful tradition of masquerading, and Purim comes as close as possible to that rarest bird, a Jewish holiday that transcends the communal and allow revelers to focus instead on the personal.

Emily Nepon, a writer, performer, and activist, has come to see Purim as an opportunity to reconcile her Jewish and queer identities. In 2004, she helped organize “Suck My Treyf Gender,” an evening of progressive-themed performances inspired by the Purimspiel, the ancient tradition of staging rowdy bits of theater loosely based on the holiday’s story.

“There was something incredibly powerful about the overlap of the Jewish cultural norms of Purim and the queer cultural otherness,” she said. “When we put them together, we were shocked by how much they magnified each other. We were moved by it.”

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