A Shape of Joy: A Blessing for the Month of Adar

Hospitality is not merely ornamental: it is practical, strategic, relational.

The word “joy” gets tossed around freely in the Hebrew month of Adar, meant both to soothe and inspire. This full moon, as we inch towards spring, we’ll celebrate the topsy-turvy holiday of Purim with costumes, revelry, good food, and flowing drink. Jewish communities around the world will read the story of Esther, the queen who reverses a deathly decree against the Jewish people, embracing a narrative that blends existential thriller with royal farce. The joy of miraculous survival, the psychological freedom of sheer historical unpredictability — these twin themes feel at once transcendently timeless and pointedly timely today.

In a tale replete with pivotal moments — a story whose plot is built explicitly on reversals — the most intimate and impactful twist emerges from a conversation between husband and wife. Queen Esther approaches the king without being summoned and invites him to a private feast. This is the first step of a plan to butter him up, so to speak, and save the Jewish people. While her success in extending a dinner invitation may seem like the predictable outcome of a healthy partnership, so great was Esther’s uncertainty that she fasted for three days before visiting the throne and even went so far as to accept the possibility of execution for her boldly unsolicited speech.

Where does this leave us today? To state the obvious, nobody reading this message, I assume, has the platform to invite one of the world’s reigning monarchs or would-be monarchs to a private meal. In a time when the world feels unstable, where power seems to consolidate in troubling ways, we may feel more like the Jews of the outer provinces, hoping for some kind of divine intervention, heroic human bravery, or both. We may identify with the people who track palace news from beyond the gates, alerting each other to threatening developments and sparks of progress alike.

But while our social networks are likely based a bit closer to earth, Esther’s playbook for effective change is widely applicable. We may not find ourselves in the position to prevent state-sanctioned military action over a meal, but perhaps you're nursing a realistic hope to save something close to home — a passion project, a friendship, a family dynamic, a local organizing call. Whatever the context, it seems striking that Esther’s salvific choreography is so intentionally paced:

• First, she invites the king to a private dinner,

• Then, at the dinner, she invites him to a second dinner —

• And only at this second meal does she make her real request.

In this story, hospitality is not merely ornamental: it is practical, strategic, relational. This may seem like a trivial takeaway for a tale of such high drama and sweeping scope. But there’s a reason lavish meals are a key idiom of diplomacy, from Game of Thrones to White House state dinners. Our own lives may be more modest, but the shape of human heart-to-hearts remains the same at any scale.

So as we try to capture some of the seasonal joy being pumped into the air this month — joy framed as opportunity, resistance, and tradition — may we be blessed with the kind of sustainable, transformative wellbeing that emerges from the ground of our relationships. Especially when the stakes are high and celebration feels hard, may we soften into the simple pleasures of life and there find the change we seek.

As Adar moves us towards spring, may we protect and honor what is precious in our lives, accepting the risk that comes even with the best-laid plans — and may those plans triumph royally in the end. May we build bridges to a future replete with festivals, forged with memories we’ll be grateful to look back on when that future comes.

Hodesh tov — wishing you and yours a good month,

Yaakov Ginsberg-Schreck Founder & Executive Director