In maseches Chulin 139b the gemora asks, "Where
do we find Esther mentioned in the Torah?"
The question itself is unsettling. What do our sages want to
know? Surely there isn't anyone who doesn't know that the
whole story of Purim occurred long after the Moshe Rabbenu
completed the Torah and Yehoshua had settled the Chosen
People in the Promised Land. It was only very much later
that, when we strayed from the commandments of the Torah, we
were exiled to distant Babylon and then to Persia where one
of the remnants of the exile, a descendant of King Shaul, was
put in a situation such that he had to allow his adopted
daughter, who was also his wife, to share the crown of a
stupid and evil king.
On the other hand, perhaps the question doesn't stun us any
more. We have heard about "Torah Codes" and computer scans
and we know and expect that every event and even the most
minor personal affairs are hinted to in our sacred Torah.
However, that does not seem to be what Chazal were talking
about. The gemora in Chulin answers by citing
the posuk (Devorim 39:18), "I will surely hide
myself," which is play on the name "Esther" as well as an apt
description of the events in the capital of Shushan.
It seems apparent that we are dealing with an underlying
assumption that all of Jewish history must be contained or
foreshadowed in the Torah. The fact is that Achashverosh did
not just happen to give his famous ring to Homon. On the
contrary, every single detail of the Megilloh must be
a revelation of Divine will or, more precisely, the
embodiment of Torah.
*
The gemora in maseches Shabbos (88b) tells us
that based on their acceptance of the Torah at Sinai the
acceptance by Bnei Yisroel of the Torah was
incomplete. But then, "under Achashverosh they found renewed
resolve and undertook the yoke of Torah once again."
For generations, our commentators worked to explain why
Hashem's threat to bury Klal Yisroel under Har Sinai
had they refused to accept the Torah either required or made
possible a second acceptance of the Torah at the time of
Mordechai and Esther, when the Jewish people were already in
exile.
The Netziv (R' Naftoli Zvi Yehuda Berlin, who was the
Volozhiner rosh yeshiva) has left us a very wonderful essay
called, "A Clarification of the Miracle of Purim," which is
usually printed along with his commentary on Chumash
known as the Ha'amek Dovor.
He suggests that the Torah is made up of two distinct parts,
Oraisoh and Divrei Sofrim, a revealed and
hidden Torah, given simultaneously on a not-particularly-
topographically-significant mountain in the Sinai Peninsula.
At the time, Klal Yisroel made quite a remarkable
statement. They said, "Na'aseh venishma," meaning
literally, "We will do and we will hear," which in itself
requires some explanation.
Usually "na'aseh venishma" is taken as a declaration
that they would be willing to fulfill any demand that
Hakodosh Boruch Hu might make of them, even though
they were not yet familiar with the Torah.
The Netziv suggests that they made the commitment only with
regard to what they were about to receive in writing. Thus
from Sinai to Shushan the majority of Klal Yisroel
were in fact keeping only the Written Law, though of course
as explained by the Oral Tradition. However they left the
purely derabonon aspects of observance to a minority
who were willing to make the effort to keep Torah in its
entirety.
This somewhat surprising state afforded an opportunity for
yet another, new acceptance of Torah. Dazzled by the glory of
their physical deliverance due to the miracle of Purim, the
Netziv explains that Klal Yisroel attained the new
level of "kiymu vekiblu," as they realized that the
saving power of Torah shebe'al peh is even greater
than that of Torah shebiksav. This will be explained
further below.
Yet the Maharal of Prague in Tiferes Yisroel (Chap.
32) holds quite differently. The Maharal's assumption is that
Klal Yisroel actually did accept the Torah in its
entirety at Sinai. However, he is troubled by the exact
circumstances under which they took on that awesome
commitment. When Hakodosh Boruch Hu threatened Klal
Yisroel with extinction -- kofoh aleihem har
kegiggis -- it was because so much hung in the
balance.
The underlying supposition here is that the world, complex
and beautiful as it is, was created only for the purpose of
enabling man to fulfill the dictates of the Holy Writ. Chazal
express this concept by saying "Hakodosh Boruch Hu
looked into the Torah and created the world." The whole Torah
served as a kind of blueprint for how to make the world. Were
no one willing to keep the Torah, it would obviously be
impossible to justify maintaining the world.
This, the Maharal learns, was the dilemma of Har Sinai --
either Klal Yisroel proves willing to accept the
Torah, or else the universe reverts to the confused state it
was in prior to Creation. As such, this was simply not the
kind of choice that could be presented offhand as a take-it-
or-leave- it offer. Even a correct decision made under
obvious duress would be preferable to the possibility,
however remote, of rejection.
Granted, the option of being buried under a mountain as
opposed to becoming observant Jews, is not much of a free
decision. One can readily understand how, after several
generations, including the fall of Jerusalem and the
Babylonian captivity, the time had come to renew the
relationship that Klal Yisroel had with the sacred
Torah. By creating a situation of total, physical relief at
being saved from certain disaster through the miracle of
Purim, Hashem enabled us to reaccept the Torah on a new
footing.
By willingly adding the mitzvah of Purim to the regular list
of obligations, the Jews now proved themselves willing to
forgo a disclaimer they had always had available previously.
It had always been possible to invoke the argument of
acceptance under duress in order to avoid punishment. But now
their degree of gratitude was such that their self-imposed
duty to keep a new mitzvah of Purim was ratified even in the
Heavenly beis din.
At this point the Netziv's approach requires further
clarification. He offers a very beautiful metaphor to explain
how Klal Yisroel could have made do with only a
partial acceptance of the Torah at Sinai, by likening it to a
ceremonial sword. Only a few generations ago, for royalty and
members of the military, an indispensable part of their dress
was a ceremonial sword in an elaborate case or scabbard. Even
in times of peace the sword enhanced its owner's status and
appearance, though subtly threatening danger. The jeweler's
artistry concealed a vicious weapon, awaiting an opportunity
to be revealed in battle or at any moment requiring its
use.
Note again that there are two aspects. One inspires fear
while the other may well be a source of admiration. As the
Netziv uses it here, the sharp weapon hung at the thigh of
Klal Yisroel is none other than the Oral Tradition as
it has been passed on from generation to generation,
unchanged since Har Sinai.
Plainly, Torah Shebe'al Peh is hidden like that sharp
sword that the Netziv is telling us about. Until the time of
Rebbi Yehuda Hanossi and the redaction of the mishnah,
no published texts were available. From the burnings of the
Talmud by Christians through the Nazi and Bolshevik
confiscations of Jewish libraries, our knowledge has been an
excuse for non-Jews to hate us.
On the other hand, the easy accessibility of the Written Law
allowed Christianity and Islam to claim it as their own.
Such is the attraction, on the one hand, of the visible part
of the Torah -- what the Netziv calls the jeweled scabbard --
and on the other, their fear of the hidden blade of the Oral
Tradition, that they have time and again demanded either our
destruction or that we leave all that we have -- both Jewish
material wealth and spiritual accomplishment through
dedication to mitzvos -- in their hands.
Since the goyim themselves bear witness to the
greatness of divrei sofrim, it is not difficult to
accept the premise that the Oral Tradition is Klal
Yisroel's greatest safeguard.
But what does all of this have to do with Purim?
The gemora's statement, "Kiymu vekiblu beyemei
Achashverosh (Shabbos 81a)," remains enigmatic, as does
the requirement to get drunk, especially considering the
Mishna Berurah's statement that the required degree is
such that one can no longer discern between Mordechai's rise
to power and the fall of Haman, not to mention the failure of
all his evil plans.
The common way of ascertaining whether one is holding at that
level is by attempting to say, "Blessed is Mordechai, cursed
is Haman" -- "boruch Mordechai, orrur Homon" -- and
when one switches boruch with orrur, then he is
considered to have had enough.
There is more here than meets the eye. We are confronting a
point almost overwhelming in its profundity: accepting the
will of Heaven requires foregoing personal preference. If one
can no longer distinguish between goodness and evil, one has
absented himself from his own worldview. By stating, "I and
what I think and feel are of no importance," one has reached
a new level of understanding of what Hakodosh Boruch
Hu offers us in terms of the ultimate test. The fact that
this is my life, my belongings, my family may be totally
unessential to how the world works, except for the basic
trial of our existence.
Hashem, in his great and total goodness, has placed us in
this world to prove ourselves. We are faced with a constant
and repeated choice to either follow the lead of our own
desires and intuitions, or to take the path of Torah and
mitzvos. Each and every time the opportunity to do Hashem's
will arises, we are given another chance to sacrifice a
little bit of ourselves, thereby showing our willingness to
cling to something other than our headlong pursuit of
personal happiness.
A similar situation arises when one has unwittingly made the
mistake of not keeping Shabbos or any of the other mitzvos
that require a sacrifice for atonement. Handing the animal
over to the Cohen and having it brought as an offering
is not enough. One must first repent of having transgressed.
Should he not do that, then Beis Din will beat him
until he makes a declaration of repentance, "Makim oso ad
sheyomar rotzeh ani."
This not just a form of saying "uncle" to get out of a
drubbing. The basic assumption here is that the soul is
willing but that the body is weak. Were it not that this
person was unable to withstand temptation, he would never
have erred in the first place. As such the lashes are a form
of escape through which his true desire to be at peace with
Hashem can be attained by putting the cravings of his
physical will in a position where they are no longer
dominant.
The state of being drunk that is required on Purim is a
little like this. Getting so far past one's normal condition
that he can no longer tell the difference between boruch
Mordecai and orrur Homon means that one has left
his critical faculty. By giving up his own weighing and
balancing, and considering everything that comes across his
path, the believing Jew has opted into a new, and Divine-
dominated reality in which the will of Heaven is his only
real concern.
*
If Purim really is a new form of kabolas haTorah, then
there must be a prerequisite of "ke'ish echod beleiv
echod." At Sinai the Jewish people received the Torah at
a level of unity that was like one man with one heart,
meaning that they were capable of entirely setting aside
personal differences for the sake of getting Divine truth.
Perhaps this is why Chazal chose to have the obligation of
drinking on Purim until one has lost his critical faculties
at a communal meal just like sheva brochos, pidyon
haben, or a siyum maseches. You are not to just go
off into a corner or get drunk in the streets to fulfill
ad delo yoda. You are supposed to sit down at the
table for a Purim seudah with others.
Clearly seudas Esther is a re-creation of the miracle
of Purim. Then, after three days of fasting and prayer, the
Jews of Shushan reached a degree of unity that we can only
try to recall by having a big meal and drinking a lot of wine
in memory of the little, private party Esther made for Homon
and Achashverosh.
Sitting at a seudah together is particularly conducive
to losing oneself to a sense of a group feeling, even though
he is really preoccupied with the very personal aspects of
eating and drinking. Chazal knew very well that this setting
would be the best -- and possibly the only -- way for the
individual to get to a functional mixing of body and
intellect to reach a point which might be called complete
resolution. This state could be very like that of our
forefathers who actually experienced the deliverance of
Purim.
*
And now that we have some clarity as to what Purim actually
is, we can differentiate between it and Pesach. Interestingly
enough, the seder is also a wine feast and also
requires that one see himself as though he personally has
just experienced release from the bondage of Egypt. However,
on Purim one may drink as much as one likes, while on Pesach
he drinks only four cups of wine. Why is it that the two are
different?
From our discussion it would seem that the mitzvah of Purim
is essentially twofold. On one hand, we are clearly making a
seudas hodo'oh for having been physically saved from
the evil machinations of Homon. On the other, we are
rejoicing at having once again been entrusted with the sacred
Torah by putting ourselves in a kind of suspended state where
we are able to embrace all of its mitzvos wholeheartedly.
In hindsight, the diabolical plans of that wicked vizier and
the awesome amounts of fear that they produced were merely a
vehicle for imposing on all of Klal Yisroel what may
have been missing at Har Sinai. Though not a little like the
effect of the original threat of kofoh aleihem har
kegigis, the Purim miracle succeeded in bringing us back
to Hashem through a simple, heartfelt recognition of the
extent of Divine beneficence and how concealed that ultimate
goodness is in actual fact.
Note again that on Purim we are not dealing with rising from
the abyss of emotional slavery to the heights of spiritual
knowledge as in Pesach, but rather with a plot full of real
escape and danger. Thus this bit of history is called
Megillas Esther, literally a "private letter" to each
and every one of us. Its message is that, by internalizing
the contents of that piece of correspondence and by clinging
to Hashem, every Jew's bonds, both spiritual and physical,
will be cut.
Look closely, see how the essence of the miracle has been
concealed and encoded - - only learning and experiencing can
reveal it. Learning, itself, the essence of divrei
sofrim, is in fact the greatest source of deliverance for
Klal Yisroel. And the greater the secret, the more
carefully it will have to be kept.
