01/17/2026
Last night I opened the Scroll of Esther, Megillat Esther.
I wasn’t planning to read it deeply. It just happened. One of those moments where a familiar story suddenly stops being history and starts speaking in the present tense.
And somewhere between the lines, I realised something.
She’s still here.
Not as a character. Not as a symbol frozen in time. But as a voice. An energy. A moral presence that never left. All we have to do is remember her, and listen.
That realisation stayed with me, because the world right now feels profoundly confused. We keep asking how we got here. How, in the name of compassion and morality, we became less compassionate, less moral, and far more cruel.
Something sacred has been hijacked.
Compassion, ethics, and humanity are still spoken about, but they are no longer practiced honestly. They are dressed up to look noble while underneath them sit fear, hatred, convenience, and often payment. We say we must not intervene, must not help, must not speak, must not get involved, unless it suits our narrative, unless it is safe, unless it is fashionable, unless someone is paying us to do it.
That is what now passes for morality.
We call it compassion when we stay silent. We call it ethics when we look away. And we call it bravery when people shout slogans in places where nothing will happen to them.
Look carefully at the contrast.
In the West, crowds marched for “Free Palestine” with police protection, social approval, and zero personal risk. No one was shooting at them. No one was dragging them from their homes. No one was threatening prison, torture, or death. Many were funded. Many were incentivised. For many, it was an opportunity to belong, to vent hatred, to feel righteous without paying a price.
Ask a simple question.
Would they have marched if bullets were fired at them?
Would they have marched if prison awaited them?
Would they have marched if no one applauded, no one paid, no one protected them?
The answer is obvious.
That was not courage. It was performance.
Now look at Iran.
Women and men standing in the streets with nothing in their hands but their voices. Knowing they might be beaten, imprisoned, or killed. No protection. No applause. No safety. That is courage.
Look at Gaza itself, at Palestinians who dared to protest against Hamas. They were shot. They were killed. They were silenced. Those people were brave. Not the Western crowds chanting on their behalf from a safe distance.
And this is exactly where the story of Queen Esther cuts through the noise.
Esther was both Jewish and Persian. She belongs to both worlds that are bleeding today.
She was not paid. She was not sponsored. She was not following a trend. She did not act because it was popular or safe. She acted because people were about to be destroyed, and silence would make her complicit.
She lived under absolute power. When she approached the king uninvited, she was effectively standing in front of a loaded weapon. He could have killed her instantly. She knew it.
And still, she stepped forward.
She dressed herself not to seduce, not to manipulate, but to be seen clearly. Her clothing became a declaration. She dressed compassion in courage. She wrapped morality in strength. She carried truth into a room where it could cost her life.
That is exactly what Iranian women are doing today.
They are not shouting from safety. They are not protected by slogans. They are standing, exposed, knowing the price. Just like Esther did.
This is the difference the world refuses to face.
Real compassion involves risk.
Real morality has consequences.
Real courage does not need applause.
What we are witnessing now is not an excess of compassion. It is the collapse of it. A substitution of performance for principle. Noise for courage. Hatred dressed up as ethics.
We were given compassion as a tool, not a costume.
And it was meant to be worn with courage.
If Esther stood today in the court of the world, I don’t think she would be impressed by our marches or our slogans.
I think she would ask one question.
Are you brave enough to speak when it can cost you something? One more thought that stayed with me from the Scroll of Esther, and it feels especially relevant to Iranian women today.
Before Esther, there was Vashti, the first queen.
The king ordered her to appear naked so he could display her body to his guests. She refused, knowing it could cost her life. She covered herself, and in doing so, she exposed something far more dangerous than skin. Dignity. Sovereignty. Courage.
Then came Queen Esther.
She did the opposite move, and the same act. She dressed herself beautifully and stepped forward, knowing that approaching power could also mean death. But she wasn’t exposing her body. She was exposing courage, responsibility, and truth.
Vashti covered herself and revealed courage.
Esther dressed herself and revealed courage.
Two women. Two paths. Same risk. Same defiance.
And this is exactly what Iranian women are showing us today.
Whether forced to cover or brave enough to uncover, the courage is not in the cloth. It is in the refusal to be erased. The refusal to be reduced. The refusal to let power decide their humanity.
And this is something I deeply love about my Jewish faith.
From the very beginning, women are not side characters in our story. They are its moral spine. We speak through them. We are born into our faith through them. They carry conscience when power becomes corrupt, and courage when silence feels safer.
Yehuda Meitav
