Revealing the Hidden

The tradition of wearing costumes on Purim is based on one of the central themes of the biblical book of Esther, namely, revealing that which is hidden. Various instances of unmasking occur throughout the story: The original queen, Vashti, reveals her inner strength by refusing to be put on display at the king’s banquet. Mordechai reveals the identity of two men who were conspiring to assassinate the king. Queen Esther reveals her true identity as a Jewish woman, in the process unmasking Haman as an evil “adversary and enemy,” rather than the wise and trustworthy adviser the king had believed him to be (Esther 7:6). King Ahasuerus, consequently, is revealed not to be a shrewd sovereign, but a buffoon, susceptible to manipulation and bribery. The Jews of Persia, presumed to be vulnerable to annihilation, are revealed to possess the power to defend themselves. And, according to tradition, God, though unseen (God’s name is famously never mentioned in the book of Esther), is revealed to be present with and for the oppressed. Indeed, even the Hebrew term for the book – Megillat Esther, literally the Scroll of Esther – attests to this theme: the name Esther comes from the Hebrew word for hidden, hester, and the term Megillah, is connected to the Hebrew word for revealing, megaleh. In other words, we don’t read the “Scroll of Esther” on Purim; we read the book of “Revealing the Hidden.”

The act of unmasking is spiritually and morally significant. Only when we know the true nature of a thing can we understand our relationship with it and discern how to engage with it. We can’t appreciate what we don’t truly see, and we can’t fix what we don’t face. 

“But wait,” you might say. “What about Shabbat? Isn’t Shabbat about escaping the world – rife as it is with pressures of school and stress of work, mundane irritations and systemic injustices, disquiet of domestic politics and global affairs? Isn’t Shabbat basically a requirement to turn away from uncomfortable aspects of reality and ignore our problems?” It is true that, according to tradition, Shabbat is considered to be m’ein olam ha-ba, a taste of heaven. We step out of our world and experience Heaven on Earth, embracing the calming quiet, the perfect peace, of doing nothing but spending time with friends, family, and community. 

But we do this not to escape the world as it is, but rather to expose it for what it is. The glimpse of heaven that Shabbat provides confronts us with the contrast between our real world and an ideal one, a world free from wandering and want. That act of unmasking is meant to unsettle us, reminding us of what we have yet to fix that is broken in our world, and energizing us to busy ourselves the rest of the week with our obligation to repair the world. On Shabbat, we enter a “sanctuary in time” not as escape, but rather as inspiration – to dedicate ourselves, once we depart, to bridge the gap between the ideal and the real.

Through its theme of unmasking the truth, Purim highlights the weekly practice of revealing the hidden that’s at the heart of Shabbat. And this year, with Purim starting as Shabbat ends, the two celebrations come as close as possible to coinciding on the calendar, reinforcing their important shared message, that while it is understandable not to want to honestly confront painful truths, it is the only way to overcome our obstacles in the present and flourish in the future. This year, as we put on our Purim masks by the light of the havdalah candle, let us commit to pursuing the truth and repairing all that is revealed to be broken.