Purim is the holiday of great happiness. In fact, because of Purim, the entire month of Adar is considered joyful: “Mishenichnas Adar marbim b’simcha” (When Adar begins, our joy increases). Yet unlike other holidays, we do not recite Hallel on Purim.
The Talmud famously gives at least two explanations for this: the miracle of Purim happened in the Diaspora rather than in the Land of Israel, and the reading of Megillat Esther serves as a stand-in for Hallel. Both of these answers point to a weak spot found in Purim. Other holidays, including Sukkot, Shavuot, Pesach and Hanukkah, have dedicated Torah readings alongside Hallel, not as a substitute. The absence of Hallel on Purim and the fact that this matter is raised by the Talmud requires reflection and may be better understood in light of our own ongoing national struggles and tragedies.
The story of Esther and Mordechai and how the Jewish people come together is inspiring and certainly a reason for great celebration. Defeating Haman saved our people and countless lives and the heroes of this story, through their bravery and leadership, demonstrate the role of human agency alongside the hidden hand of G-d; after all, G-d is not mentioned explicitly in the text.
In our celebration of Purim, we often overlook the fact that the defeat of Haman was not a complete defeat of evil itself; it was a temporary victory. Haman was defeated because of the cunning and creative activities of Esther and Mordechai as well as the visible insecurities of King Achashverosh.
This underlines that the Talmud is not giving two distinct answers to why Hallel is not recited but rather two complementary ideas highlighting the same theme: We don’t recite Hallel because on Purim the entire issue of evil was not solved. Evil was not obliterated, it was just forced underground. Although the Purim experience caused antisemitism to be muted, it was still there, right below the surface. The reading of the Megillah reminds us of that reality, another reason why G-d’s name is not mentioned, highlighting that the experience didn’t end with complete redemption, the Jews moving to Israel. Unlike the miracle of Yetziat Mitzrayim, which happened before we entered the Land; the miracle of Purim occurred after Am Yisrael had lost their sovereignty in Israel – and yet, most Jews at the time were not inspired enough by the Purim victory to return.
The wearing of costumes and masks also speaks to this incomplete redemption. We need to cloak ourselves in a false reality in order to remind ourselves that this redemption was incomplete. We create a drunken and masked sense of reality, ignoring the painful truth that evil still persists in the world. Rambam suggests (Hilchot Megillah 2:18) that Purim will only see its complete celebration in the Messianic era when the world is rid of evil. When that day comes, our emphasis on Purim will be more pronounced.
This incomplete redemption is also reflected in the first story of Yaakov and his children who live as a people in the diaspora – the story of Yaakov, Yosef and his brothers. There are multiple parallels. Some are found in the language and some in the storyline. Like Esther, who was known for her physical beauty, Yosef, too, was admired for his physical looks. In both stories, the good deeds of the heroes, Mordechai and Yosef, are forgotten. In Pharaoh’s case he has nightmares; in Achashverosh’s case, he is an insomniac. Both stories’ turning points occur at large meals. In the Yosef story, it is food that is gathered from across the kingdom; in the Megillah story, it is women that are gathered from across the empire to replace a queen. The verb used to collect them is the same. And, critically, in both stories, the Jewish people are saved for a short period of time.
We still live in this precarious reality. We do have a State of Israel, which allows for the possibility of a complete redemption, but at the same time, we still have hostages in Gaza; many fallen soldiers and fellow Israeli civilians; and our modern-day enemies – from Hamas to the Houthis to Iran – continue to threaten us. What can we learn from the Purim story that can help us navigate living with this partial redemption? How do we move to a paradigm of complete redemption?
First of all, we must embrace standing up against oppression and injustice, like Esther and Mordechai did. This applies not just to injustices and threats against Israelis or Jews, but to any persecution based on one’s identity or background. This is part of being a light unto the nations and of repairing the world.
At the same time, we can only fulfill this role when we engage with our fellow Jews in a respectful and productive manner. The mitzvot of Purim reflect this message: the seudah, mishloach manot and matanot l’evyonim are all focused on engaging with each other – those near and far, both similar to and different from us. It is only through standing together against injustice that we can move toward the erasure of all evil and the ultimate redemption. Amid our Purim celebrations this year, the absence of Hallel should serve as a call to action – an inspiration to work together and continue the pursuit of bringing light to the world.
