Light From Within Concealment 1
They speak of Purim only in superlatives. Its kedushah is
unparalleled; it equals that of Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year.
Its contribution to Tanach – Megilas Esther – is claimed to be endlessly
current. (Rav Baruch of Mezhbozh explicated the Mishnah’s instruction
concerning the proper reading of the Megilah: “One who reads it
lemafreiya - out of order - does not fulfill his obligation.” [2]
This means, he said, reading it and believing that it applies to an
earlier time period, and not recognizing that it very much refers to the
moment.)
As great as the day is, its special character remains elusive. We
understand its message. But we know that each special day of the year
conveys its own spiritual gift. That gift determines its avodah,
which is to do what we must to best receive that gift. Just what is it
that we are supposed to take away from Purim?
It really is not so difficult. In a word, the purpose of each of the
Yomim Tovim is that each person “should appear before Hashem.” [3]
Each of these days affords an opportunity to encounter Hashem and be
elevated thereby. Yom Kippur stands out among them, as allowing the
greatest growth, propelling a person to the greatest heights.
Paradoxically, Purim takes note of our greatest deficiencies – and turns
them around into elevation! The Torah’s allusion to Esther is through the
word hester, or hiddenness. In a word, Purim changes the elements
of greatest Divine hiddenness in our lives into spiritual elevation.
The Megilah is all about bottoming out. Its backdrop is a generation that
in wholesale manner has given up on itself, to the extent that it
participated in Achashverosh’s meal that celebrated his subjugation of the
Jewish people. The leaders of the people were so devoid of confidence and
self-worth, that to a man – with the sole exception of Mordechai – they
bowed and prostrated themselves to their nemesis, Haman. Even Esther, when
accepting the mission of intervention for her brothers and sisters, spoke
in abject resignation: “And if I will be lost, I will be lost.” [4] The
doubling of the word “lost” enlarges its meaning to include body and soul
together.
This state of affairs repeats itself often, as periods of Divine
hiddenness that take hold of us as individuals or as a community. This,
then, is the essence of our avodah on Purim – fully realizing the
potential to find great elevation at times of spiritual doldrums. Because
Hashem’s purpose, as it were, in creating the world was to find a suitable
space for His Presence in the lower worlds, the theme of Purim is eternal.
The notion of creating greatness in a place of lowliness is inherent in
Creation. Purim, leading us from the abyss to the heights, is forever.
We cannot escape the conclusion that Purim has special relevance in our
troubled times. We lost one third of our people in the Holocaust, six
million souls including the greater portion of our tzadikim
and geonim, through cruelty never seen before in our history as a
people. This was followed by spiritual darkness that none could have
predicted, whereby the yetzer hora grasps even the talmidei
chachamim with two arms – one a coolness in emunah, and the
other the heat of passion for evil lusts and desires.
The lives of many individuals also follow a predictable trajectory. So
long as a Jew retains the fullness of his spirit, he is capable of
enduring all suffering that comes his way. But when it is decreed from
Above that a person must endure the concealment of Hashem’s face from him,
he is tested thereby with the spiritual suffering that comes from Hashem
appearing distant to him. Afflicted thusly in body and in soul, a person
comes to the conclusion that “it is because there is no G-d in my midst
that all these evils have befallen me.” [5] Inexorably, what follow is “I
will hasteir astir - certainly hide my Face on that day.” [6]
The hiddenness is a double one, entailing both a dulled emunah
and an impassioned pursuit of pleasure. (The Jewish soul is sourced in the
upper world of pleasure, and therefore needs pleasure to thrive. When it
cannot find permissible pleasures, it takes pleasure where it can, even
from what is forbidden.)
These two factors taken together amount to Amalek, whose numerical
equivalent is safek – doubt. When a Jew lives in the shadow of
Divine concealment, when he ceases to feel closeness to Hashem, he begins
to imagine a barrier between himself and G-d, and he starts to doubt the
presence of Hashem in our midst. This doubt plunges him into the clutches
of Amalek, which brings the damping of his emunah and the
explosion of his lusts.
How do we begin the climb from bleakness to elevation? The Megilah not
only shows that it can be done, but how to do it. “Mordechai cried a
great and bitter cry.” [7] Crying out to Hashem is the beginning of
redemption. Such a cry parts all the veils, smashes all the barriers
between a person and his Creator. A cry that emanates from the soul of any
Jew is more potent than all the forces of evil, stronger than the poison
of Amalek and the designs of Haman. The cry may remain within, unheard by
any person. It may come at a time that a person finds himself mired in
defeat. (Consider the example of Esther. Chazal tell us that when she
entered the room in which Achashverosh stored the royal idols, she felt
the Shechinah suddenly bolt from her, and felt utterly alone and
vulnerable. She therefore called out, “My G-d! My G-d! Why have You
abandoned me?”) Crying out to Hashem is effective in all circumstances and
at every level. It worked for our ancestors in Egypt; it worked for Moshe
in defeating Amalek; it worked for Esther. Nothing stands in its path,
although its effectiveness is linked to just how great and bitter it
happens to be.
The cry and its potency are alluded to and invoked by the nexus of
Parshas Zachor, the reading about Amalek on Purim day, and the
reading of the Megilah. It is effective as well against the Amalek that
dwells within us.
Beyond the cry that initiates the climb out of the pit, other Purim
practices hint at the measures that take us yet higher. The Megilah calls
the days of Purim days of happiness. Indeed, happiness is both possible
and important even to the person for whom concealment of the Divine has
been decreed. A person can find satisfaction with the Will of Hashem, and
with the lot that is given him by that Will, even when on the face of
things, that lot does not seem attractive. This is true of both material
and spiritual aspects of his life.
Realizing that HKBH remains present despite His concealment is fundamental
to this happiness and joy. Chazal allude to this when they tell us [8]
that a person must read the Megilah at night and repeat it by day. The
constant, dependable presence of G-d is with us always, whether at times
that His light shines through, or whether at times that it is concealed
and we live in darkness.
(We do not mean to say that recognizing His presence in the darkness of
night is the sole challenge. Reacting appropriately to His presence in
the brightness of the day is also an avodah. Bais Avrohom tell us
that Yaakov’s reciting the Shema [9] at the precise moment that he was
reunited with Yosef after so many years of longing and sadness was his way
of taking his happiness and redirecting it to HKBH. Similarly, when
Mordechai’s plight was turned into triumph, and he was led through the
city by Haman in a regal procession, he also recited the Shema. Here too,
he focused his joy on his relationship with Hashem. He did not simply
accept Hashem’s gift to him with thanks, but insisted upon immediately
putting it to good use.)
Seeing the presence of Hashem under all circumstances is ultimately the
meaning of Chazal’s directive [10] to us to drink on Purim until we do not
know the difference between “blessed is Mordechai” and “cursed is Haman.”
We must rejoice on Purim till we no longer feel the difference between the
Mordechai periods of our lives, when we merit insight and enlightenment,
and the Haman periods, in which we find His presence concealed.
The mitzvos of mashloach manos and gifts to the poor allude to a
second measure we must take in pulling ourselves up from the depths.
Chazal direct us not to be evil to ourselves, in our own eyes. We can
detect in this another meaning as well. Even if we are evil, we should be
that way by ourselves. Attaching ourselves to others will be greatly
beneficial in addressing our shortcomings.
We show our commitment to others in two ways, representing two different
levels of cherishing others. On one level, we value our friends, those who
are close to us by choice. We evidence that friendship in mashloach
manos. A higher level of appreciation of others is shown by our gifts
to the poor. Through this we show our ahavas Yisrael, our
commitment to the Jewish people as a whole, including those we do not know
at all.
On either level, we will gain from our involvement with others. It should
not be surprising, then, that as we plod along in this period of
ikvesa de-meshicha, when the concealment of Hashem’s light is
greatest, that even our relationships with friends have become strained
and difficult. The closeness between chaverim that was such an
important part of even the recent past has been targeted by the yetzer
hora. Diminishing it is one more method of the yetzer to
plunge us into even greater darkness.
We are fortunate, indeed, that HKBH provides us the ohr of Purim once a
year to turn the darkness of galus into light, and Chazal have
mapped out the mitzvos that bring us to a destination of the achdus
we need to see it.
1. Based on Nesivos Shalom, Purim pgs 17-21
2. Megilah 17A. The word connotes reverting to an earlier time
3. Devarim 16:16
4. Esther 4:16
5. Devarim 31:17
6. Devarim 31:18
7. Esther 4:1
8. Megilah 4A
9. Rashi, Bereishis 46:29
10. Megilah 7B
11. Avos 2:13
Text Copyright © 2009 by Rabbi Yitzchok Adlerstein and Torah.org
