There are many words associated with Purim. Some of them are simcha, Mattan Torah and hester ponim. Few would add the word “hope” to the list. There were some extremely frightening times in the Megillah, when hopelessness seemed to set in. Yet, not only is the concept of hope or tikvah mentioned prominently, but it is even everlasting hope that rings out from much of Purim and the Megillah. After the night and day readings, we recite or sing heartily in the pizmon of Shoshanas Yaakov, “You have been their eternal salvation and their hope throughout the generations. To make known that all who hope in You will not be shamed.” What exactly is the “hope” of Purim and how can we access it during times when hope seems to be a rare and elusive commodity?

Let us begin with the amazing conclusion of Rav Dovid Cohen, rosh yeshivas Chevron, that the words quoted above prove that “the hope of Klal Yisroel throughout the ages flows from the power of the Purim salvation” (Yemei HaPurim, page 20). He quotes from the beginning of the Yosef Lekach commentary on Megillas Esther that “Megillas Esther is the prototype of all miracles during our long golus that are hidden from us. Hashem is always there to save us, but we often are unworthy of open miracles. It is then that Hashem rescues us in obscure and covert ways.” That, as Chazal (Chulin 139b) teach us, is the essence of the neis Purim. Over the nine long years of the Megillah narrative, many things happened, all of which could have been natural and even the saga of a novel. However, behind the scenes, as hinted at in the Megillah by the word Hamelech and in the many allusions to Hashem’s otherwise absent Name, Hashem was always pulling the strings and totally in charge.

As the rosh yeshiva continues, “The ultimate purpose of the Purim salvation was to convey this fact to future generations that Hashem ‘peers through the cracks’ (Shir Hashirim 2:9; Pachad Yitzchok, Purim 2:6) to secretly save us from our enemies.” He also cites the Ksav Sofer (to Megillas Esther 9:28) that one of the main themes of the Megillah is “that we should always be reminded not to abandon hope no matter how bleak a situation seems to be.” Just as the Megillah teaches us to believe in Hashem no matter how impossible redemption looks, it is also a source for our emunas chachomim, trust in our leaders. Rav Yissochor Dov Rosenberg, a chossid of the Klausenberger Rebbe, was learning in his rebbe’s yeshiva in Union City, New Jersey. In a horrific accident, he fell down several flights in an elevator shaft. In the hospital, the doctors virtually gave up on bringing him back to any semblance of normal life. They predicted that he would have to be tied to his bed for nine months and that he would never again be able to stand on his own feet. However, the rebbe ordered him to be transferred to another hospital, against medical advice. They predicted that he wouldn’t even live through the transfer. Nevertheless, on Purim, when he was wheeled into the rebbe’s home in a wheelchair, the rebbe just smiled. “Okay,” he intoned, “this is a good costume for Purim, but after this, you must get up and walk.” Later, he tried to stand up but fell down several times. By the end of the day, though, he was walking, and by Pesach he was actually running. It turned out later that the rebbe had issued a halachic ruling that was accepted in heaven so that the young man would be healed and completely restored to normal life” (see Umasok Ha’ohr to Purim 2:598). As we heard from the Ksav Sofer and Rav Dovid Cohen, the power of Purim in every generation is to bring about refuos and yeshuos through what appear to be “natural channels.”

This, too, flows from the character of Purim as a day of hope. It is when desperation has set in and all feels forlorn that Purim shines the brightest. It is interesting and not irrelevant that throughout history, when a city or town celebrated a miraculous rescue, it was often called “a Purim,” such as the well-known Purim Saragosa and many others. Purim always represents the triumph of bitachon and emunah against implacable foes. This is especially so when the rest of the world will explain the events away as natural and we know best that they are actually supernatural.

Another aspect of the hope of Purim may be seen in the names of Mordechai and Esther, which both represent the sweet aroma of besamim (see Megillah 10b). My rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner (see Reshimos Lev to Purim, No. 20) explained at his Purim seudah that the connection between besamim and Purim is that spices and the sense of smell in general is associated with something that has already been at least partially destroyed or disintegrated. In other words, since Haman was already in possession of the king’s signet ring and the decree had been issued in heaven, Klal Yisroel had ample reason to be petrified. Yet, we now know for certain that Hashem was there, turning things over (Megillas Esther 9:1). This is a powerful chizuk for our nation that even when evil people seem to be in power and anti-Semitism is rampant, we should not lose hope. We must remember that even — and perhaps especially — when Hashem is hiding His face, geulah is not far away.

It has been pointed out (e.g., Shaarei Purim, page 64) that this quality of Purim is even embedded in our daily Shemoneh Esrei. We recite thrice daily in Modim, “The Beneficent One, for Your compassions were never exhausted and the Compassionate One, for Your kindnesses never ended, we have always put our hope in You.” This may also explain why Klal Yisroel ends the tefillos twice a day from Elul through Sukkos with the words “Hope to Hashem, strengthen yourself and He will give you courage, and hope to Hashem” (“L’Dovid,” Tehillim 27:14). Hope is a circuitous   process. We become hopeful, lose hope, strengthen ourselves, and become hopeful again. It is ultimately the Purims of our lives, not the open miracles that are all too rare, that give us hope that things will improve. It is Mordechai who ends up riding on the horse, while Haman is humiliated and disgraced. That is the reward for our faith when all seemed dark and bleak.

My rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner, offered a parable to understand the eternality of Purim. The Medrash (Mishlei 9) records that “even at a time when all the Yomim Tovim will become obsolete, Purim will not.” The rosh yeshiva likened this to two people who were commanded to recognize individuals at night. One lit a lamp to be able to fulfill his mission, but the other, who had no lamp, trained himself to recognize them by the sound of their voices. The first one had a clearer picture of what these people looked like, but the second had developed a lifetime ability to fend for himself in the darkness. When the sun rose and the bright light of the sun drove away the gloom, the first man was able to extinguish his lamp, for it no longer served any purpose. But the second one had gained a permanent capability to survive in the darkness.

The rosh yeshiva concludes that Klal Yisroel has two ways to declare Anochi, acknowledging the Oneness of Hashem. One is the Anochi of the Aseres Hadibros after the open miracles of Yetzias Mitzrayim and Mattan Torah. The other is the Anochi of “Anochi hasteir astir ponai,” the hiddenness of Hashem in times of darkness. The light of the sun or the lamp are nice because one can see clearly. But the majority of the time, we require our newly acquired skill of getting around in the darkness. That is our present world, where there are few or no open miracles. We navigate today by the talent we gained on Purim to “see” Hashem in the darkness and to discover Him in what others call nature.

To be clear, there was only a short period in history when we “saw the light” and could see the Yad Hashem and His presence. For most of our history, we needed the tools we gained on Purim to retain our hope that Hashem was still with us, guiding us with love, care and constant concern. That is the day of eternal hope, the day when we faced death of the entire nation r”l but were saved in a moment. At first, we saw nothing. The next moment, we saw everything.

May Hashem soon show us the rest of His power in the open and unambiguous world of Moshiach Tzidkeinu bemeheirah beyomeinu. Amein.

A freilichen and lichtigen Purim.