When God Isn’t Named
Rabbi Daniel Reifman
The book of Esther is famously distinctive for being only one of two biblical books which do not contain the name of God (Shir haShirim being the other). Commentators have often struggled with this curious phenomenon: How can we relate to Esther as a religious text if God is never mentioned? One approach has been to “find” God in the story at junctures where events seem to be guided by an unseen force, suggesting the divine hand at work. Foremost among these is the opening scene of chapter 6, where a suspicious series of coincidences, beginning with King Achashverosh’s bout of insomnia, results in Haman being forced to honor Mordechai on the very day he had intended to execute him.
The rabbis of the Midrash (roughly 3rd-6th c. CE) often take a different approach to the absence of divine references in Esther: they proactively insert God into the story in creative and often provocative ways. An intriguing example is the Midrash’s comment on Esther 1:8, which describes Achashverosh’s party as so decadent that he ordered his servants “to comply with each and every person’s wishes” (la’asot kirtzon ish va’ish):
God said to [Achashverosh], “Even I do not satisfy the needs of all my creations, and you presume to comply with the wishes (retzon) of each and every person [ish va’ish]?! In the way of the world, when two men court the same woman, can she marry them both? [She can wed only] one or the other! So, too, when two ships enter a harbor, one wanting a northerly wind and the other a southerly wind, can a single wind propel both of them at once? [It can drive only] one or the other! Tomorrow two individuals will come before you for judgment, “a Jewish man” [ish yehudi (Esther 2:5)] and “an adversary and enemy” [ish tzar ve’oyev (7:6)]. You will assume that you can satisfy both of them, but you will end up elevating one and impaling the other.”
Rav Huna said in the name of Rabbi Binyamin bar Levi: For in this world, when there is a northerly wind, there cannot be a southerly wind, and when there is a southerly wind, there cannot be a northerly wind. But, says God, in the future, during the ingathering of exiles, I will bring an argestes wind to the world, which involves two [opposing] winds. This is the meaning of that which it says, “I will say to the north wind, ‘Give back!,’ and to the south wind, ‘Do not withhold! Bring My sons from afar, and My daughters from the end of the earth'” (Isaiah 43:6). Who is the one who can comply with the wishes of [all] those that fear him? This is God, about Whom it says, “He fulfills the wishes (retzon) of those who fear Him; He hears their cry and delivers them” (Psalms 145:19).
Esther Rabbah 2:14
This passage casts God as a sort of play-by-play commentator, who cynically pierces the bubble of Achashverosh’s bombast. The ultimate expression of Achashverosh’s munificence is his command to satisfy the desires of every guest, but God seizes the opportunity to underscore the essential difference between human and divine power: regardless of how many resources a human being can amass, ultimately, they will be faced with mutually incompatible concerns that force them to choose one path or another. Only God can supersede the constraints inherent in the physical universe, like the wind blowing in opposite directions at once.
The Midrash also emphasizes divine omniscience by having God foreshadow the central conflict of the entire book – the competition between Haman and Mordechai for Achashverosh’s favor. Using typical midrashic wordplay, the Midrash reinterprets the phrase ish va’ish – “of each and every person” – as referring to two specific people – “of this man and that man,” exploiting the fact that the word ish (“man”) is used to refer to both Mordechai (2:5) and Haman (7:6).
This passage demonstrates one way the rabbis address the lack of divine references in Esther: they interpret Achashverosh not merely as a foil for God but as a sort of photo negative. The religiously-minded reader of Esther comes away with an enhanced understanding of God via association and distinction with Achashverosh’s character: God is everything that Achashverosh is not, such that He is manifest within the book precisely through His absence. In this case, God’s omnipotence emerges through a contrast with the most powerful monarch the world had known until that point. Even the opulence of Achashverosh’s most magnificent banquet, with its seemingly limitless fulfillment of desire, pales in comparison to the boundlessness of God’s power and benevolence.
This approach acquires additional significance when we consider the historical context in which the rabbis of the Midrash were writing. The centuries following the destruction of the Second Temple and the Roman exile were a time of terrible persecution and suffering; anxious speculation about the ultimate redemption is a major theme in rabbinic theology and historiography. Given that Esther is set in the aftermath of the destruction of the First Temple and the Babylonian exile, it was natural for the rabbis to see it as parallel to their own predicament, and the Midrash on Esther constantly links the plight of the Jews of Persia to that calamitous national tragedy. From this perspective, the absence of divine references in the story could be seen as a disturbing indication that God had withdrawn from an active role in history.
Hence it is particularly telling that the second section of this passage cites examples that relate to redemption: Rabbi Binyamin bar Levi explains that God’s ability to do all that Achashverosh cannot – to fulfill each person’s desires, to marshal mutually conflicting forces – is manifest precisely in His deliverance of Israel. The paradoxical image of opposite winds blowing at the same time is found in Isaiah’s depiction of the redemption, where God summons both the north and south winds – apparently simultaneously – to gather Jews from exile. Likewise, the psalmist refers to God fulfilling “the wishes of those who fear Him” through the act of delivering them from oppression. If the book of Esther conveys a sense of God’s omnipresence specifically by never mentioning him, then it also argues for God’s continued role in Jewish history even when His presence is least apparent.
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