As Israel prepares shelters and braces for a possible confrontation with Iran, ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods in Jerusalem are already rehearsing a story of victory.
As Purim approaches – the Jewish holiday in which children and adults dress in costumes to commemorate the Book of Esther – shop windows between Malchei Israel Street and Mea Shearim display outfits that tell a different story about fear, power and survival.
Is Purim in ultra-Orthodox Jerusalem becoming a mental resilience drill?
Even before the holiday begins, small shops along the inner streets of Geula toward Mea Shearim in Jerusalem are filled with boxes of miniature fur hats, golden crowns and crimson velvet robes. On Fishel, Zonnenfeld and Chayei Adam streets, fathers fit artificial beards on their children, turning them into biblical heroes, while mothers choose Queen Esther dresses.
There are no superheroes here and no movie characters. Instead, the costumes come from the ancient story of the Book of Esther, repeated generation after generation.
Not far away, in downtown Jerusalem and the Mahane Yehuda Market, the shelves look completely different. Here, monsters, dancers, police officers, soldiers, comic characters and social media stars dominate. In the ultra-Orthodox street, a child dresses as someone saved from annihilation. In the secular street, a child dresses as someone who wins through force.
How does the Book of Esther shape resilience in the face of Iran?
This contrast reflects two different worldviews. As the world closely follows the possibility of confrontation with Iran and international leaders issue forceful statements, there is one community that feels the scenario is familiar and destined to end in victory.
The story of the Book of Esther took place in ancient Persia – modern-day Iran – in the city of Shushan. It is not merely a religious memory but a psychological template. A total annihilation threat by a powerful empire was overturned. Haman became the archetype of the existential enemy, Mordechai a symbol of steadfastness without military power, and Esther a figure of victory from within. The costume is not an escape from reality, but a way of wearing a story in which fear has already been defeated.
In this sense, ultra-Orthodox Purim is not only a joyful holiday in Jerusalem but an annual exercise in resilience. Children learn to identify not with superheroes who save the world by force, but with figures who lived under real threat and survived. Instead of imagining a fictional future, they reenact a past that promises history can be reversed.
Secular costumes express dreams of strength, speed and control, while ultra-Orthodox costumes offer meaning, continuity and a known ending. Two ways of coping with anxiety, but only one rooted in the narrative of “a complete reversal.”
And so, while analysts examine war scenarios and leaders await images of surrender, some neighborhoods in Jerusalem already hold the trophy of victory.
Perhaps this is why the ultra-Orthodox street appears calmer even when headlines grow dramatic. From its perspective, Iran is not the end of the story but another chapter in a book already read to its final page. Within this sense of victory, there is still room to fulfill the commandment: “One must celebrate until one no longer distinguishes…”.
