"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" That haunting opening line of Psalm 22… it's a cry that resonates across millennia. But what if I told you that within it, the ancient Rabbis found sparks of hope, flickers of light in the face of despair?
The Midrash Tehillim, that beautiful collection of interpretations on the Book of Psalms, finds in this verse a connection to moments of salvation in Jewish history. It asks: how can we understand this feeling of abandonment?
The Midrash turns to the prophet Isaiah (10:17): "The Light of Israel will be as a fire, and its Holy One as a flame." Now, who might that refer to? One interpretation suggests Hezekiah, the righteous king, and Esther, the heroine of the Purim story. Hezekiah, who bravely faced Sennacherib, the Assyrian king. Esther, who risked everything to save her people from Haman. "It will burn and devour," the verse continues. The Midrash sees this as the divine fire that consumed Sennacherib's army when they threatened Jerusalem. A fire that ultimately consumed Haman and his evil plot.
But it doesn't stop there. The Midrash offers another layer: "The Light of Israel" can also be seen as Mordechai, Esther’s cousin and adoptive father, and "its Holy One as a flame" remains Esther. And "burn and devour"… that's Haman, again. Our Sages tell us Haman had a hundred sons. Some were killed, others hanged, and the rest wandered as vagrants before their ultimate execution. A grim fate, indeed. The Midrash then quotes Isaiah 10:17, "thorns and briers in a single day." The measure you use will be the measure used against you. Haman decreed destruction, annihilation, and murder. Therefore, the verse says about him, "it will burn and devour."
There's something so satisfying in the way the Midrash finds these echoes and connections. It’s like the text is whispering secrets across time.
Another interpretation in the Midrash sees Esther herself as the "Light of Israel," illuminating the land like the dawn. Isn't light like fire, and fire like light? The Holy Blessed One, the Midrash says, made this a double-edged sword: light for Israel, and darkness for the idolatrous nations. As it says in Amos (5:18): "Woe to you who desire the day of the Lord! For what good is the day of the Lord to you? It is darkness and not light." : in our world, when someone lights a lamp, can they choose who benefits from its glow? No, the light shines on everyone. But the Holy Blessed One doesn't always work that way. He illuminates in this world and the world to come, offering light for one and darkness for another, all at the same time. Rabbi Hanina said, quoting Psalms (145:9): "The Lord is good to all" – in this world. But in the future (Psalms 125:4): "Do good, Lord, to those who are good."
That’s the essence of Mordechai and Esther: a light for Israel, and darkness for the nations that sought to destroy them. Esther is called Hadassah (Esther 2:7), meaning "myrtle." Mordechai, a righteous man, is also associated with the myrtle (hadas) (Zechariah 1:8): "and he was standing among the myrtle trees." The myrtle has a sweet fragrance but a bitter taste. Mordechai and Esther, similarly, were darkness for the idolaters, but a radiant light for Israel.
And don't be surprised by this duality. Remember Egypt? Exodus (10:22-23) tells us: "There was a thick darkness… yet all the Israelites had light in their dwellings." The Midrash suggests: just as God did in that ancient time, so too will He act in the future. As Isaiah (60:2) proclaims: "For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will shine upon you, and His glory will be seen upon you."
So, what do we take away from this? Perhaps it's the understanding that even in moments of seeming abandonment, even in the darkest of times, there is the potential for light. A light that can illuminate the path forward, not just for ourselves, but for generations to come. Maybe it's that the divine presence is often revealed in these moments of contrast, where darkness and light dance together, shaping our destiny. Or maybe, just maybe, it's a reminder that we all have the potential to be a light in the world, even when shadows surround us.