Who is Hadassah? Growing from silence in the Book of Esther
Photograph by Anton via Unsplash
Rivka Nechemya Thrope
When I was twelve, having just celebrated my b’nai mitzvah together with my older brother, I stepped into a new role during the reading of the megillah on Purim at my family’s suburban Conservative synagogue. This was the role of “stop sign holder.” My responsibilities included listening to the megillah very closely for whenever the name “Haman” was said. At that moment, the 45 or so folks who gathered to hear the megillah would yell, boo, and shake their noisy gragers. It was my job to make sure that this noisemaking didn’t go on too long, and to hold up the “stop” sign after a few moments – as high as my twelve-year-old arms could reach – so that folks knew it was time to quiet down and continue listening to the megillah.
The act of “drowning out” the name of Haman during the recitation of the megillah on Purim is a common custom in Jewish communities. It stems from Haman’s role as an undeniably evil character in the book of Esther; so evil that his name, when said, is covered over by noise.
As an adult, I know that noise is not the only way to drown out someone’s name. And, as I read the book of Esther this year, I notice that Haman isn’t the only character whose name becomes lost in the chaotic world of the megillah: Esther herself has a second name, Hadassah, which is silenced – not by noise, but by simple omission – all but one time in the megillah text.
We are introduced to Esther in verse 2:7 of her book, not with the name Esther but instead with her Hebrew name, Hadassah:
He [Mordechai] was foster father to Hadassah—that is, Esther—his uncle’s daughter, for she had neither father nor mother. The maiden was shapely and beautiful; and when her father and mother died, Mordechai adopted her as his own daughter. (Esther 2:7)
The verse mentions Esther’s birth name as a seeming aside, less important than the details of her adoption by her uncle. Yet, the story does keep this piece of information revealed, if only for a moment. It is as if the storyteller is telling us to pay attention to what is going on behind the scenes of our Purim story; we begin to question what happened during her adoption by Mordechai? What parts of her are wrapped up in her Hebrew name, Hadassah, that aren’t reflected in her Persian name, Esther?
When we tell Esther’s story, we yell and scream and blot out evil names with noise. But perhaps there is a different version of our heroine’s world – that of Hadassah – where parents and children are allowed to stay together because that is what lets myrtle roots grow deep and long and free.
Esther Rabbah, an 11th-century midrash, attempts at one answer to this question. The midrash begins by quoting Esther 2:7 – our verse above – and then offering an explanation:
“He fostered Hadassa [meaning myrtle]” – just as myrtle [hadassa] has a sweet fragrance and a bitter taste, so was Esther sweet to Mordechai and bitter to Haman. (Esther Rabbah 6:5)
The midrash describes “Hadassah” as a side of Esther that operates in secret; it’s a name with two sides to it – bitter and sweet – which show themselves at different times. Esther, according to the midrash, is not her full self with either Mordechai or Haman; she is only sweet or bitter at once; not both at the same time.
The Talmud, in tractate Megillah, debates whether Esther or Hadassah is our heroine’s “real” name. The final opinion in the debate is presented by Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korha:
Rabbi Yehoshua ben Korḥa said: Esther was [initially] called Hadassah because she was greenish [like a myrtle], but a cord of Divine grace was strung around her [and she became beautiful]. (Talmud Bavli Megillah 13a)
The image of a “cord of grace” is striking. The cord image is one of cutting off, while grace itself is kind, soft, and gentle. At the same time, the image mirrors the story of our heroine’s transition from Hadassah to Esther; she is first cut off from her family and then, by a stroke of grace, taken in by her uncle. Perhaps, this story suggests, neither name is her “real” name, but each name is real at different moments in her life – first, she was Hadassah; then, Esther.
It is as Esther that our heroine plays a game of politics, power, and manipulation. In her world, her uncle turns Haman’s evil decree back on Haman, his family, and his armies. The kingdom still stands; people still die. When we tell Esther’s story, we yell and scream and blot out evil names with noise. But perhaps there is a different version of our heroine’s world – that of Hadassah – where parents and children are allowed to stay together because that is what lets myrtle roots grow deep and long and free, and where it is not yelling that drowns out but instead singing that heals wounds that run generations deep.
Rivka Nechemya Thrope (he/him and ze/hir) is a third-year rabbinical student at Hebrew College. He received a BA in Comparative Religion from Harvard College and has been a Jewish educator in outdoor, day school, and adult learning environments.
The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.
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