Post-Purim Revelations (JW-First Person Singular)
by Esther D. Kustanowitz

Ten chapters of royal mayhem, megalomania, attempted genocide and ultimately, feasting and triumph, and still, in the entire Book of Esther, there’s no direct mention of God. Any yeshiva kid can tell you that there’s one indirect mention — when Mordechai tells his queenly niece that if she doesn’t redeem the condemned Jewish people, “salvation will have to come from another place.” Many would render those last two words, “Another Place,” with capital letters to indicate the divine subtext, which they believe the phrase indicates: Makom Acher, another Makom, meaning both “place” and a name that is commonly used to refer to God.

Why is finding God in the words of the Megillah so important? If the overt mention is not there, then an implied, subtextual reference helps to qualify the book as holy and justify its inclusion in the canon. By looking for God between the lines, the rabbis are hoping to forge a stronger connection with the text, even if it requires going beyond the words themselves. But this isn’t manipulation; it’s human nature.

In the Megillah and in life, we often find ourselves wanting more than we’re given by other people. We spend hours speculating as to the intent of the words of others; we read between the lines of context and subtext, looking for something deeper, or more resonant. But what do we expect to find in the unexpressed that is not present in the account we’ve been given? How far can we take nuance and word choice? Is there any time at which we can trust a statement — in a Megillah, or from another person — at face value? When a close analysis of a text or person yields an enhanced meaning, can we trust it as truth? Is that found subtext divine, or invented by a hopeful heart?

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