Hidden Light: Hallel, Amalek, and the Inner Work of Purim

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 Gemara famously teaches that one must drink on Purim until he cannot distinguish between “Cursed is Haman” and “Blessed is Mordechai.” This statement is deeply misunderstood.

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

Haman is called “Haman HaAgagi” — descendant of Agag, king of Amalek. Purim is not only about survival. It is about the defeat of Amalek. But Amalek is not merely an external enemy. Chazal describe Amalek as coldness — “asher karcha baderech.” Amalek cools enthusiasm. Amalek makes mitzvot mechanical. One can keep Torah meticulously — yet coldly. That inner coldness is Amalek 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.

Moral Clarity in an Age of Confusion: Shabbat Zachor 5786

This piece was first posted in Hanassi Highlights, 26 February. You can also read it in Hebrew translation, via ChatGPT, here.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks zt”l once drew attention to a deeply uncomfortable truth: modern Western culture has largely lost the concept of an enemy. We instinctively assume that hostility must be the result of grievance. If someone attacks, there must be something we did to provoke it. Surely hatred must be rational.

Parshat Zachor challenges that assumption.

The Torah commands us: “Remember what Amalek did to you… do not forget.” Amalek attacked Bnei Yisrael in the wilderness without warning, without provocation, targeting the weak and stragglers at the rear. There was no territorial dispute, no prior history, no political grievance. It was aggression for its own sake.

Strikingly, the Torah’s response to Amalek is vividly different from its response to Egypt. The Egyptians enslaved us, oppressed us, and decreed the murder of our children. Yet the Torah instructs: “Do not despise an Egyptian.” Why? Because, as Rabbi Sacks explains, “The Egyptians feared the Israelites because they were strong. The Amalekites attacked the Israelites because they were weak.”

Pharaoh himself said, “The Israelites are becoming too numerous and strong for us.” Their hatred, though immoral and cruel, was rooted in fear and self-preservation.

Amalek was different. They attacked not because they were threatened, but because they encountered vulnerability. That distinction is not merely historical. It is moral and theological. Amalek represents the phenomenon of evil that cannot be reduced to misunderstanding or insecurity. It is the hatred that seeks vulnerability and exploits it. It is the ideology that glories in destruction.

The Rambam explains that the mitzvah to remember Amalek is about sustaining moral clarity: “to remember always his evil deeds and his ambush… to arouse enmity.” The Torah commands us not to forget the existence of such evil. Forgetfulness breeds confusion; confusion breeds danger.

We no longer know who the biological descendants of Amalek are. Since the time of Sancheriv, former national identities have long been blurred. Amalek today is not a genealogical category but a moral one—a  symbol of those forces, in every generation, that seek the destruction of the Jewish people simply because we exist.

As we read Parshat Zachor, its message remains larger than any particular chapter of history. Jewish experience has repeatedly reminded us that not all hatred can be reasoned with, and not all evil can be explained away.

Amalek may symbolize hatred without cause—but Am Yisrael symbolizes covenant without end. On Shabbat Zachor we do not only recall an ancient enemy. We reaffirm our identity as a people sustained by memory and bound to a Divine promise that has outlived every empire that sought to undo it.

Our task is not simply to survive history, but to remain faithful within it -to carry the covenant forward with faith, dignity, and moral courage.

Shabbat Shalom!

When Tetzaveh is also Shabbat Zachor

This piece, from the Destiny Foundation archive, was composed by Rabbi Berel Wein zt’l and published back in 2017.

It is obvious from the context of the earlier readings of the Torah that, when the Torah states “and you shall command”, the “you” referred to is Moshe. Nevertheless, the name of Moshe does not appear in this week's reading. Many explanations, ideas and commentaries have been advanced over the ages as to why his name is absent from this parashah. 

Moshe’s name is so intertwined with the Torah which he transmitted to us that its absence strikes a perplexing and even jarring note. Since there are no mere coincidences or accidents of language and style in the Torah, the absence of the name of Moshe in this week's Torah reading merits our attention and understanding. 

There is an element of Moshe’s phenomenal modesty certainly present here. Moshe strove throughout his life to prevent Jewish belief from becoming the cult of the personality. He always made it clear that he was only the conduit for the transmission of God's word to the people of Israel and that the Torah was of Heavenly origin and not the work of his mind and pen. It would thus be completely in character for him to allow an entire portion of his teachings to Israel to appear without his name being attached to it. The Torah is represented by the great candelabra and the light that emanated from it. The fuel that fed that light—the pure olive oil—came from all of the Jewish people collectively and not from Moshe alone. It is completely understandable that the intrinsic modesty of Moshe would be reflected by the absence of his name being associated with this holy fuel and light. 

This week’s Torah reading coincides with the Shabbat of Zachor, which records that Amalek comes to destroy the Jewish people in their infancy as a nation. There has always been a tendency in the Jewish world to somehow ascribe the hatred of Jews by certain sections of the non-Jewish world to the acts, policies or personalities of the leaders of the Jewish people. In the story of Purim, the Jews of Persia blamed Mordechai for the decrees and enmity of Haman. But Haman certainly is not satisfied with destroying Mordechai alone. He meant to destroy Mordechai’s Jewish critics as well. To our enemies, the hatred is never exclusively personal. To them, a Jew is a Jew, no matter what or whom. 

The fact that this week's parashah coincides with Shabbat Zachor indicates to us that the problem is not Moshe or any other leader or individual Jew. Even when Moshe and his name are absent from the scene, Amalek and its hatred and violence towards Jews, are present and dangerously active. 

There is a tendency in the Jewish world to cast blame upon our leadership—national, organizational and religious—for all of the outside ills that befall us. Our leadership must always be held up to scrutiny and critical standards forpersonal behavior and national policy must be maintained. However, the outside forces that arise in every generation to attempt to destroy us do so even when our leaders are blameless and absent from the scene completely.

Surviving the threat of Amalek

This coming Shabbat is Shabbat Zachor, when we remind ourselves of the ever-present threat of Amalek and the imperative of blotting out this existential threat.  Rabbi Wein's devar Torah on this week's parasha is also posted on The Hanassi Blog, here -- but the words that we reproduce below were composed by Rabbi Wein some years ago. They are as current now as they were when he first wrote them.

The current spate of anti-Semitic media cartoons, op-eds and boycott movements serve to remind us that Amalek is alive and thriving as usual. There was a short period of time a few decades ago when many Jews were lulled into thinking that all this baseless hatred and nastiness was a thing of the past. Even the most naive among us today realize that this is unfortunately not the case. Therefore, remembering Amalek is a relatively easy commandment to fulfill today, One need only read a newspaper, listen to the radio or TV or view the internet to meet Amalek face to face, live and in person. 

How to counteract and deal with Amalek has been a continuing problem throughout Jewish history.  Apparently, no satisfactory permanent solution to the problem has ever been found. Perhaps that in itself is the basic lesson of the commandment of remembering Amalek. We must remember that the problem is unceasing and that it has remained insoluble for millennia. 

We should not be surprised or even overly discouraged by its sinister presence in our lives and world today. We must do everything possible to combat it but we should always remember that it is not given to pat solutions or wishful thinking. It is apparently part of the Jewish condition—our very terms of existence. 

The story of Purim is the story of Amalek contained, but not completely defeated or destroyed. Haman is hydra-headed and has always had disciples and followers. Haman and his sons were thwarted and hanged but that did not prove to be much of a deterrent to all the Hamans who have followed throughout history. 

 In terms of the destruction of Jews, Hitler was far more successful than was Haman, having killed six million Jews in five years of hate and terror. Yet Hitler destroyed Germany completely as well, with far more Germans than Jews being killed in that terrible and tragic war. 

 So again, one would think that the lesson of Amalek would have been learned by now. But the reality of Amalek is that it defies logic, self-interest and history and its lessons. Purim is our only hope in containing Amalek.  Purim is always hidden, unpredictable, surprising and unexpected. Yet it is also a constant in Jewish life and history. 

The survival of the Jewish people remains as the miracle of all history and that miracle is omnipresent in our current world. The existence and accomplishments of the State of Israel are offshoots of this constant and continuing miracle. Israel and its achievements give us a sense of Purim every day of the year. The miracle may not be superficially visible, but it is certainly present and alive. 

The Talmud's statement about the inability to distinguish between Haman and Mordechai is indicative of the mystery of Purim. Purim is not always what it appears to be at first glance. It is the hidden part of Purim that fascinates and confuses us. Our salvation is always unexpected and many times defies any form of human wisdom and expertise. 

Purim tells us never to despair or lose hope regarding our current difficulties and uncertain future. It is easy to fall into a funk when viewing all the difficulties that surround us. Purim preaches to us that such a dark attitude is inconsistent with Jewish faith and Torah values. That is why the rabbis stated that Purim is the only eternal holiday on the Jewish calendar. 

We will always need Purim and its message to continue to function and achieve. For without Purim present and operative, we fall into fearing that Amalek may yet, God forbid, triumph. So let us rejoice in the knowledge that Purim is here with us and all will yet be well for the nation and people of Mordechai and Esther. 

Shabbat shalom, Rabbi Berel Wein