Here is something you have probably never thought of about the Purim story. The first chapter of the Book of Esther, traditionally read from a scroll (megillah) on the holiday of Purim, describes possibly the most high-profile divorce in all of Jewish canon. Achashverosh and Vashti begin the story as the king and queen of Persia who rule from their palace in the ancient city of Shushan. By the end of the dramatic first chapter, their relationship is over, the crown taken from Vashti’s head and her royalty removed. The final decree, codified into law, is her banishment. Vashti is never to step foot in the palace again. In the space of one chapter, the megillah describes a highly public, irreparable separation at the top of the royal family.
Does the megillah explicitly utilize the Hebrew terminology 
“divorce” to describe what’s going on here? It does not. But although the scene of her removal is described in political language, the fracture of their partnership highlights the end of a relationship, the reshaping of an iconic family. Sounds a lot like divorce.
Whenever I tell someone about this famous biblical “divorce,” the typical response is, “Wow, I never thought about it like that.” Sometimes there is pushback, which comes in two different forms: The first is that the Sages resisted categorizing Vashti’s new status as divorced because they didn’t want to compare Jewish civil law to ancient Persian law, as they understood that it did not make sense to bind Achashverosh to Halakha (Jewish law). In fact, the Megillah avoids marital language altogether for both Vashti and Esther. The second form of pushback is that it’s not a divorce; Achashverosh had her killed. “Not so fast,” I reply. While it is true that some rabbis of the Midrash (Esther Rabbah 3:14) speculate that Vashti was killed at the hands of her former King, there is nothing in the actual megillah to substantiate this, and no mention of Vashti’s death. But the assertion of her murder is telling, as if it were easier to kill her off than to reckon with the concept of a “former queen to Achashverosh.” Which leads to the real question: What is the significance of Vashti’s status at the end of chapter one? As a minor character in the story, why is it so important to mention the couple’s break?
As it turns out, her shift was critical. Without Vashti’s separation from Achashverosh and the royal throne, there would be no more story. No beauty contest for a new queen of Persia and no Esther, no Jewish queen to save the Jewish people from Haman the Wicked. Vashti’s bold refusal to appear naked before her King and her subsequent divorce, or whatever you want to call it, is the catalyst for the entire Purim story. Vashti and Achashverosh’s split puts the entire story in motion. That’s why it’s the most visible divorce in Jewish history.
Yet, that transformation of Vashti and Achashverosh’s relationship is rarely named as such. With divorce as common as it is in 2026, why is that highly relatable experience for such a huge segment of the population so often muted?
Surprisingly, this type of negation actually fits into the Purim experience.
From a spiritual perspective, much of the megillah and the way we celebrate Purim is mystically represented through the motif of “revealing the hidden.” Most famously, Esther hides her Jewish identity until Haman threatens to murder the Jews and she has to make the difficult choice to reveal her Jewish identity in order to save them. This is the main reason for the tradition of wearing costumes and masks on the holiday. For one day of the year, we make space for a new inner reality, previously hidden, to emerge to the forefront. Through the various Purim customs, we are encouraged to negate the everyday version of ourselves, so that some deeper truth of who we are can be revealed.
Jewish texts and our ancient stories work their magic when we can see parts of our own stories embedded within them. If you ever wondered why divorce can be such an isolating experience for so many people today, consider the denial within communal frameworks. When is the last time you heard of divorce support services offered in a religious institution, or even mentioned aloud in a public way? Relegated as simply an individual problem, divorce lives below our collective radar, even though it cuts across religions and denominations. While it doesn’t impact everyone, you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who doesn’t have a close friend or a family member who’s been divorced. Although the percentage of divorce has skyrocketed in the past fifty years, getting divorced is not a new idea. The concept of legally ending a marriage is an ancient phenomenon, including within Judaism. Yet divorce seems to operate in the shadows of our society today—similar to the Purim story! Vashti’s banishment is in full view, but her divorce from Achashverosh is hidden in plain sight.
In the spirit of Purim, may we find a way to reveal this hidden reality within our communities so that we can support more people going through divorce.