Purim 5782
Eli Stefansky may be the most popular Maggid Shiur on the planet. He delivers a daily Daf Yomi shiur to a live audience near his home in Ramat Beit Shemesh, Israel, that is simultaneously broadcast over Zoom and recorded for viewing and listening across a host of video and audio platforms. At present, Reb Eli’s Youtube channel boasts 12.1 thousand subscribers. It wasn’t always that way.
The Midrash (Bereishis Rabbah 30:8) comments that a group of people scattered across the pages of Tanach witnessed the dawn of a new world. Among them was Mordechai, who witnessed a complete about-face in the Persian government’s policy towards the Jews at large and towards him personally. Mordechai is part of a group that includes Noach, Yosef, Moshe, and Iyov, each of whom witnessed a climactic shift in the functioning of either the physical world or of society. The word that identifies every member of this select group is striking in its banality: “היה—it was.”
But what appears pedestrian on the surface actually bears far greater depth. Throughout the story of Megillas Esther, Mordechai maintains a steady stream of activity, always calculating his and Esther’s best next move. Even when things seem utterly hopeless—a genocidal decree against the Jews signed by a king completely indifferent to their cause—Mordechai doesn’t lose hope. He remains outside the palace, certain that something can be done to right the ship.
For Mordechai, “היה” is not only a word that frames the time period of a given pasuk, it was an entire philosophy. What happened in the past would not cast a long shadow over the future. Change can occur, realities can shift. What has already transpired does not dictate what yet can occur. Mordechai insists this is so and finds himself at the right place at the right time, helping direct the future along a far more promising trajectory. Had Mordechai’s response to Haman’s decree been to dejectedly lock himself in a room and simply give up, he’d never have the impact that he ultimately did. Because he could turn the page on the past, he availed himself of the opportunity to direct the future.
When Eli Stefansky first started giving a Daf Yomi shiur, it was attended by 5-6 people. Someone in his position could easily have said, “I’ve tried the Daf Yomi thing, and it’s just not happening.” Past experiences have a way of seeping into the future and coloring perspective of what’s possible. If something great was going to happen, wouldn’t it have happened by now? By looking at a dearth of attendees as “היה—it was”, Reb Eli could build an incredible future without being saddled by the past. He developed his style, honed his skills, built an audience. And that audience is now many hundreds of times larger than what once was—היה.
Living by such a credo is no simple feat. Yesterday’s baggage weighs us down and it’s a real challenge to drop it and keep a bright-eyed view of the future. Perhaps what allows Mordechai to do so is captured in one of the best-known quotes from all of Megilas Esther:
כִּי אִם־הַחֲרֵשׁ תַּחֲרִישִׁי בָּעֵת הַזֹּאת רֶוַח וְהַצָּלָה יַעֲמוֹד לַיְּהוּדִים מִמָּקוֹם אַחֵר וְאַתְּ וּבֵית־אָבִיךְ תֹּאבֵדוּ וּמִי יוֹדֵעַ אִם־לְעֵת כָּזֹאת הִגַּעַתְּ לַמַּלְכוּת׃
(אסתר ד:יד)
If you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will come to the Jews from somewhere else, while you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows, if perhaps you have attained your royal position for just such a moment.
(Esther 4:14)
Responding to her fear of approaching Achashveirosh uninvited, Mordechai assures Esther of the need to bear the responsibility of the Jewish People upon her shoulders. But not because she is their only hope. Indeed, if Hashem intends to save the Jewish People, there is nothing Esther can do to torpedo that Divine plan. But if she cannot bring herself to approach Achashveirosh, she will be missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime—the chance to partner with Hashem to help bring the salvation to fruition.
We bring past failures into the future because we come to identify ourselves and our abilities by them. If we’ve failed before, we’ll do so again. But Mordechai has a different perspective—what we do and don’t do is less about our own abilities and more about Hashem’s interests. If Hashem wills it, future success is limitless, irrespective of what past failures suggest.
What if we lived life that way? Yes, I’ve struggled in the past—earning a living, maintaining Shalom Bayis, understanding what I was learning. And yes, if future success was predicated on my own efforts alone, my past record would indicate more trouble ahead. But if I can see Hashem behind all that transpires, the possibilities for future success remain limitless.
Faith in ourselves begins with faith in Hashem. And Purim more than any time of year reminds us to seek out Hashem’s presence even where it’s not readily apparent. If Hashem is in control, no failure of the past should serve as a curb against the future. What happened yesterday is היה, it was, and has no bearing on what can be achieved tomorrow.