Hiddenness is the theme that runs through so much of our understanding of Megillat Esther, In the piece that follows, our member Rabbi Paul Bloom pulls aside the curtain and offers us a glimpse of that which lies just out of normal sight.
The Gemara in Talmud Bavli asks a striking question: Why do we not
recite Hallel on Purim? After all, we recite Hallel on Yom Tov. True, Purim is
not a biblical festival like Pesach or Sukkot — but neither is Hanukkah, and
yet we recite Hallel then. Why? Because we were redeemed from persecution. If
redemption warrants Hallel, then Purim — when annihilation was decreed against
the Jewish people — should certainly require it.
The Gemara offers three answers.
Three Answers — and One
Halachic Conclusion
1. The Megillah Is Hallel
The first answer is revolutionary: There is Hallel on Purim — the
reading of the Megillah is its Hallel. According to this view, the
public reading of Book of Esther fulfills the mitzvah of praise. We do not say
the standard Hallel psalms because Purim has its own unique form of
thanksgiving. The Meiri takes this position very literally. He writes: if
someone is stranded without a Megillah but has a siddur, he should recite
Hallel with a berachah — because Purim fundamentally requires praise,
and if the Megillah is unavailable, regular Hallel substitutes for it. However,
the Mishnah Berurah rules otherwise. The Megillah is not merely a
substitute — it is the exclusive Hallel of Purim. If one cannot read the
Megillah, one does not replace it with standard Hallel. Why?
2. Rav Hutner: Open
Miracle, Open Praise — Hidden Miracle, Hidden Praise
Rav Yitzchak Hutner explains with extraordinary depth: Hallel must
mirror the nature of the redemption. There are two types of miracles:
● Nes Nigleh — open, supernatural miracle
● Nes Nistar — hidden, concealed miracle
The redemption of Passover was filled with open wonders: the Ten
Plagues, the splitting of the Red Sea, supernatural intervention that shattered
nature itself. Such an open miracle demands open praise — the full-throated
declaration of Hallel.
Purim is different. Not a single supernatural event appears in the
entire Megillah. Everything can be explained politically or psychologically:
● Vashti is executed — royal intrigue.
● Esther is chosen — palace politics.
● Mordechai overhears a plot — coincidence.
● Haman rises — ambition.
● Haman falls — miscalculation.
Even Esther’s name means concealment. Her birth name was Hadassah;
“Esther” evokes hiddenness. The name of Hashem does not appear explicitly even
once in the Megillah. And yet — when the pieces are viewed together — the
hidden Hand becomes unmistakable. Purim is the paradigm of Nes Nistar.
A hidden miracle requires hidden
praise. Thus, the Hallel of Purim is not an open psalm of praise — it is the
telling of a story in which God is never mentioned but always present. If you
lack the Megillah, you cannot substitute open Hallel — because Purim’s praise
must reflect concealment.
3. Still in Exile
The Gemara’s third answer deepens the message: Hallel is recited when we
are fully redeemed. After the Exodus, we were no longer Pharaoh’s slaves. But
after Purim?
We were still subjects of Achashverosh. Yes, Haman was defeated. But the exile
remained. In this sense, Purim is the festival of redemption within
exile. And that is why Purim remains eternally relevant — even in modern
Israel. We have sovereignty, but we do not yet have the Beit HaMikdash. We
visit the Kotel — a remnant of a retaining wall — and rejoice, yet we mourn
simultaneously. Purim teaches us to see God in partial redemption, in
unfinished stories, in exile that has not yet lifted.
Ad D’Lo Yada — Beyond the
Surface
The Nefesh HaChaim explains that the Gemara elsewhere states
something astonishing: The removal of Achashverosh’s signet ring — when it was
handed to Haman — accomplished more repentance than the rebuke of 48 prophets
and seven prophetesses. Why? Because fear awakened the people. The decree
itself brought about teshuvah.
We naturally thank Hashem for salvation. But Purim demands something
harder: recognizing that even the decree was part of redemption. Without
Haman’s threat, there would have been no national awakening. Thus “ad d’lo
yada” does not mean moral confusion. It means reaching a level where one
recognizes that even what appears as “cursed” was ultimately woven into Divine
good. This is not gratitude to Haman, but gratitude to Hashem for both the cure
and the illness that led to growth.
The Downfall of Amalek — Outside and Within
The second internal Amalek is division. Sinat chinam,
polarization, hatred among Jews. When Jews are divided, Amalek thrives. The
mitzvot of Purim directly address this:
● Mishloach Manot — creating bonds of
friendship
● Matanot La’Evyonim — compassion and
responsibility
● Se’udat Purim — shared joy
● Kabbalat HaTorah Me’Ahavah — reaccepting Torah out of
love
The Gemara teaches that at Sinai we accepted the Torah under coercion —
“He held the mountain over us.” But on Purim, we re-accepted it willingly.
Love replaces fear. Enthusiasm replaces coldness.That is the eradication
of inner Amalek.
Hiddenness Is Not Absence
Purim sustains us in dark times. Hiddenness is not abandonment. Like a
parent watching a child from behind a curtain — unseen but fully present — so
too Hashem “peeks through the lattice,” as described in Shir HaShirim. The
miracle is concealed — but the love is not.
Even in the most painful chapters of Jewish history, we have witnessed
souls rise to unimaginable spiritual heights under duress. Not because
suffering is good — but because within suffering lies the potential for
greatness that comfort might never awaken. Purim teaches us to see beyond the
surface of events — to detect Divine choreography in what appears ordinary,
political, or even tragic.
The Work of Purim
Purim is joyous. But it is also sacred. It calls us to:
● See God when He is hidden.
● Thank Him for redemption — and for the process that led to it.
● Replace coldness with passion.
● Replace division with unity.
● Accept Torah not from fear, but from love.
If we eradicate the Amalek within — the complacency, the indifference,
the hatred — then Hashem protects us from the Amalek without.
Purim is not merely a celebration of survival. It is the annual training
of Jewish vision
to see light inside concealment, purpose inside chaos, and redemption unfolding
even when history looks ordinary.
And that vision — more than open miracles — is what sustains us in exile until the final redemption is no longer hidden at all.
