As we celebrate Purim, war is once again raging in the land once known as Persia – the very land where Haman sought to annihilate the Jewish people, and where Queen Esther saved us. Not through force. Not through conquest. But through wisdom, and moral clarity.
We are living in a moment when vulnerability feels close to Jewish consciousness. Headlines are heavy. And yet Purim whispers something different: that what appears irreversible can reverse. That darkness does not have the final word. That courage, timing, and unity can alter the course of history.
Perhaps – just perhaps – there is light ahead.
(Entrance to the Esther and Mordechai Mausoleum)
Standing at the mausoleum traditionally identified as the resting place of Esther and Mordechai in Hamadan, one feels the weight of continuity. It is a quiet, unassuming place. Yet it anchors more than 2,500 years of Jewish presence in this land. This is not a myth suspended in imagination; it is memory grounded in geography.
(Me, visiting the Esther and Mordechai Mausoleum)
Iran remains home to one of the world’s oldest continuous Jewish communities – larger, in fact, than the current Jewish populations of many European countries today. Jewish history here is not incidental. It is foundational.
The Tomb of Esther and Mordechai in Hamadan, the traditional Tomb of Daniel in Susa, the Tomb of Habakkuk, and historic synagogues in Tehran, Shiraz, and Isfahan are not relics of a vanished world. They are markers of endurance.
When peace returns, travel to Iran will not be about politics. It will be about memory – about standing in the geography of the Book of Esther and recognizing that Jewish life in Persia did not end with one chapter of crisis. It continued.
Visiting Iran in a future time of stability will not be an act of nostalgia. It will be an act of historical continuity – a reminder that Jewish civilization in Persia has spanned empires, dynasties, and regimes.
(Shiraz Synagogue)
Beyond its Jewish heritage, Iran is a country of extraordinary cultural depth:
The poetic spirit of Shiraz and the nearby monumental ruins of Persepolis.
The refined Islamic architecture of Qom, Mashhad, and Isfahan.
The desert city of Yazd, home to the ancient Zoroastrian fire temples.
And a population widely known for its warmth and hospitality. Persian civilization long predates contemporary politics.
When it is safe and responsible to do so, I look forward to once again personally escorting our “Jews of Persia” program – walking through these layered landscapes with travelers who seek understanding rather than headlines.
(Detail from Persepolis)
Purim ends with celebration – not because danger never existed, but because the story did not end in vulnerability. That remains its enduring lesson.
May we see calmer days ahead. And may we continue to explore our shared history with dignity, curiosity, and respect.
(Members of the Tehran Ashkenazi synagogue)