Last night began the Jewish holiday of Purim. This is a celebration of the book of Esther. The last time I celebrated it was when I was still a member of a Messianic Jewish congregation two years ago, before I came out as an atheist, long before I came out as polyamorous. It was even before all the private drama that separated me from my religious community. But not before my doubts: I had doubts about Purim even then.

But this year, I’m getting closer to the point where I want to be. I miss Purim.

Oh, once there was a wicked, wicked man And Haman was his name sir, He would have murdered all the Jews, Though they were not to blame sir

Oh today, we'll merry, merry be Oh today, we'll merry, merry be Oh today, we'll merry, merry be And nosh some hamantashen.

I posted a link to this classic children’s Purim song, earlier this week.

The first challenging thought that forces itself on me: What makes us think that Haman was “wicked”? I’ve written before about Haman’s humanity. There, but the for the grace of God…

When I first met Jeffrey Tanner, fictional costar of my short story “The Widow’s Granddaughter," he told me, “Nice guys finish last.”

I didn’t believe him then, and I still think he was seriously misguided. Fortunately, that character discovered that there is much more to life than alpha-male-ism.

What an appropriate memory for the days around Purim, which fell this year on this past Sunday. Purim is the Jewish celebration of the story of Esther, in which the nice guys actually saved the day, and the get-ahead-no-matter-what villain got what he had coming to him. What goes around comes around, as they say. And there’s some truth to that, despite our base instincts to the contrary.

(If you’re not familiar with the tale, you can read the story of Esther in any Bible or Jewish Tanakh.)

And what originally brought this thought to the forefront, a frustrating, transforming experience last Wednesday, which really brought this principle into focus.

This past Saturday night began the Jewish holiday of Purim. Since Saturday was also the Sabbath, after morning services and lunch at our synagogue, we had games for the kids, crafts, a class on the book of Esther, a Jewish folk dancing class, pizza. Then we had evening services, followed by reading the story of Esther. This year, the kids also did an “Esther Reloaded” Purim play, parodied on Star Wars. Lots of laughs.

It’s tradition in Jewish synagogues to dress up in costumes on Purim, and we had plenty of them. The Little One dressed up as a cat. One boy was Indiana Jones. And one of my friends was a bar of ivory soap. But I think the best Purim costumes I ever saw still go to D and his wife S, back when S was still pregnant with their little boy. She came as an oven, with a loaf of bread baking inside. (A “bun” in the oven, get it?) And he was the chef. Ba dum bum.

We also had lots of Hamentashen, filled cookies folded in the shape of a three-cornered hat, such as that which Haman is said to have worn. In the story of Esther, Haman told Xerxes that the Jews were a terrorist threat and persuaded him have all the Jewish people in the land executed, before they caused national chaos. Haman did this because—quite frankly—a certain Jew ticked him off, and so naturally he resorted to mass genocide.

(I imagine him a petty, little man, not of the short-and-noble kind, but of the kind who stands strong and important and fat and is very insecure about his size.)