Purim '08

A man once married a woman with only one hand, and he did not notice her disability until after her death. Rav exclaimed, “Behold how tzanua this woman was, for [she obviously dressed so modestly that] her husband never once noticed her [missing hand]!” Rabbi Chiya expressed an alternative amazement. “Any woman with no hand would hide this imperfection from her husband,” Rabbi Chiya challenged, “but behold how tzanua this man is for never once noticing his wife[‘s missing hand]!”

Meseches Shabbos, 53b

This short dialogue between Rabbi Chiya and Rav forms the foundation to a working model of tznius, modesty. First, Rav directly associates proper dress code (even in front of one’s spouse) to modesty. Rabbi Chiya modifies this association, acknowledging that the motivation for proper dress must stem from some source other than a fear of personal exploitation. In other words, Rabbi Chiya’s model of tznius transcends objective fact, namely that the woman is clothed, and instead focuses on one’s subjective mentality

Rabbi Chiya, however, fails to identify what aspect of the husband’s mentality conforms to the guidelines of tznius, especially if his wife has sincerely devoted herself to hiding her imperfection from him. By Rabbi Chiya’s assessment of the wife’s cunning, the husband could take no credit for having not noticed his wife’s missing hand. And if Rabbi Chiya believed that no woman was cunning enough to hide her hand from her husband for an entire lifetime, then Rabbi Chiya would be forced to recognize her as the tzanua one anyhow!

This gemara provides us with little if any didactic benefit. It acknowledges an inherent value to tznius, yet fails to qualify this value. Granted, we cannot call the husband or wife tzanua if we can instead call them cunning, but the given scope of even subjective modesty apparently ends there. And this definition leaves us largely unsatisfied, scratching our heads as to whether one is somehow lacking in his being when he looks at his spouse’s hand.

The gemara in Meseches Megila (13b) furthers our confusion. The gemara identifies three of the most tzanua individuals in biblical history, remarks how they descend from one another, and thereby concludes that each descendant’s tznius was a reward for the similar qualities of his or her ancestors. Rachel Imeinu’s modesty earned her a descendant like Shaul, and Shaul’s modesty in turn earned him a descendant like Esteir.

In short, the gemara asserts one plain fact: Esteir reflects the qualities of tznius through her unwillingness to disclose her identity – Ein Esteir Magedes Moladta ViEs Ama. This hidden identity consists of two interrelated data: her nationality; and her lineage. It is difficult to determine exactly why Esteir denied the King this information, especially when she obliged to every other whim of Achashveirosh’s. Maybe Achashveirosh hates the Jews and her affiliation will reflect poorly on her. Maybe this affiliation will reflect positively on the Jews. Maybe Esteir’s linage is her most valuable credential, for she is of royal descent. Maybe it warrants her execution, for Vashti was killed for asserting her royal authority over Achashveirosh. There is simply no way to tell.

In light of these uncertainties, what makes this gemara so blatantly troubling is the blind declaration of Esteir as a modest individual, par excellance no less. On the surface, it is impossible to evaluate Esteir’s modesty if we cannot evaluate her thoughts and intent. As Rabbi Chiya explains in Meseches Shabbos, tznius transcends the objective concealment of identity, assesses the potential gains and setbacks of said concealment, and reserves its label for the deserved few. In fact, when we consider the potential gain of Esteir’s supposed modesty, when we consider each potential rationale for her defiance, we are forced to conclude that Esteir is more cunning than she is modest, much like the woman with no hand. On one hand, Esteir may have deemed the disclosure of her identity to her disadvantage, in which case she was wise not to unveil her identity, but by no means modest. On the other hand, Esteir may have seen some potential benefit in her Jewish background and her royal lineage. This consideration is in fact strongly evident from Esteir’s actions later in the story, when she reveals her identity in order to plead for her life. In other words, Esteir recognizes the breathtaking affect her revelation can momentarily provide, and the gamut of emotions it can thereby exploit. In such case, Esteir’s unwillingness to disclose her identity when she is initially crowned queen is still not an exhibition of modesty, but rather one of cunning.

And so we are back where we began. Esteir is quiet and “hidden” (as hinted by her name) and perhaps even clever, but she is by no stretch of our imagination the archetypical tzanua. How then can we reconcile the message of the gemara in Megila with that of the gemara in Shabbos? How can we imbue the trait of tznius with any inherent value if the tzanua responds primarily to the prospect of personal gain?

Perhaps we should begin where the gemara itself begins, namely with an analysis of Rachel Imeinu’s tznius. Chazal identify both the actions and thoughts of Rachel, making this example a fitting case to study. They explain how she organized secret signals with Yaakov to prevent Lavan from replacing her with another woman on the night of her wedding. When Lavan switched her with Leah, Rachel was overwhelmed with pity for her older sister and divulged the signals to prevent Leah’s embarrassment. The compassion is evident, but where is the modesty?

“She handed over [the signals]” to Leah, and this [exemplifies] her tznius for she did not publicize the matter that [Yaakov] gave her signals.

Rashi, Meseches Megila, 13b

Rashi interestingly shifts the focus of this account back around to Rachel and her sensitivity towards her own embarrassment. What then does Rashi think of Leah’s feelings? The gemara explicitly focuses on Leah’s embarrassment, yet Rashi neglects this point!

Of course, one should wonder what embarrassment Rachel prevented Leah by handing over the signals anyhow, for Yaakov the very next morning scolded Lavan for marrying off the wrong sister. Leah’s embarrassment is then inevitable; what difference would it make whether she was exposed at night or the following morning?

In order to resolve these difficulties, we must first recognize that there are two ways of interpreting Yaakov’s complaint to Lavan. The innocent bystander could surmise that Yaakov felt cheated because Lavan breached his longstanding seven-year contract at the last moment, not because Yaakov preferred to marry one girl over the other and Lavan denied him his lover. On the other hand, if Leah cannot reciprocate to Yaakov’s signals, then everyone would discover that Yaakov arranged signals with Rachel and would realize how much more Yaakov loved one sister than the other. In other words, by sharing Yaakov’s signals with her older sister, Rachel ensured that nobody would discover how much more Yaakov loved her than Leah, and Leah would not be personally embarrassed.

In summation, Rachel has two ways of relating to the love she feels for Yaakov. On one hand, she can justify Leah’s embarrassment on the basis that Yaakov loves her more than he loves Leah. Conversely, she can treat this love exclusively as the means by which she relates to Yaakov. Ultimately, the value Rachel perceives within her relationship prompts her actions. Does Rachel value herself more than her love for Yaakov, in which case she would expose her own love in return for personal gain, and embarrass her sister? Or does Rachel esteem the inherent value of the relationship itself, in which case she gives over the signs? Rachel’s unwillingness to publicly distinguish between her and Leah’s relationship with Yaakov beautifully expresses her trait of tznius.

Shaul possessed this same trait. As a tzanua, Shaul saw a quality within himself that distinguished him from the rest of the nation, namely his future royal stature, and he refused to disclose this matter to his father. Shaul could easily exploit this information for his own personal gain; his father would have certainly given him preferential treatment. But Shaul understood that his royalty was not a bargaining chip and that the Navi’s words were not a means for personal gain. Instead, Shaul valued his stature on a much more personal level.

The Kings of Yisrael are not unconditionally born into their roles. Indeed, when Shmuel HaNavi sets out to find Shaul’s successor, Hashem rejects Dovid HaMelech’s brother Avinadav, “Ki Mi’astihu,” for I am disgusted by him (Shmuel Aleph, 16:7). The gemara in Meseches Pesachim (66b) infers from Hashem’s “disgust” that at some point in history Hashem desired Avinadav to succeed Shaul, but later changed His mind. Dovid therefore never destined to rule; rather, Hashem chose Dovid on account of his merits. Likewise, Shaul’s ascension to the Melucha was not a matter of destiny; rather, it reflected Hashem’s love for him and his reciprocal love for Hashem.

And Shmuel took a flask of oil and poured it on Shaul’s head, and he kissed him.

Shmuel Aleph, 10:1

The tznius of Shaul, like the tznius of Rachel, manifests itself within Shaul’s unwillingness to publicize this love. Even after Shmuel publicly announces Shaul’s appointment, Shaul still attempts to flee the scene, to hide under the baggage and avoid the publicity. Much like Yaakov’s actions on the night of his wedding, Shaul knows that his actions can be construed in two ways. If Shaul willingly accepts the kingship, then he would publicize the mutual love that he and Hashem bear for one another. Hashem graciously chooses Shaul, and Shaul graciously obliges. But, Shaul reasons, if he hides under the baggage, then his appointment to the kingship will appear more as a matter of forced consequence. The populous will perceive him merely as the destined beneficiary of Hashem’s obligation to appoint a king, but not as G-d’s beloved.

Tznius characterizes much more than the mere disclosure of personal information. Instead, a tzanua must hold the intimacy of a mutual love with utmost regard, regardless of the consequences. In Rachel’s case, her tznius resulted in an undesired consequence, and she ultimately shared her beloved husband with three rival wives. In Shaul’s case, his tznius had no effect; the nation’s ignorance of his relationship with Hashem certainly had no directly negative consequences, but it yielded no constructive affect either. And in Esteir’s case, her tznius resulted in one of the most fortunate outcomes in the history of Klal Yisrael. But the benefits of Esteir’s secrecy do not detract from her tznius, for her intent was nonetheless pure.

From the commoner’s perspective, Esteir’s ascension to royalty was the mundane outcome of her immense beauty and Achashveirosh’s unquenchable desire. Esteir withheld two facets of her identity from public knowledge, her nationality and her lineage, because each of these facets hinted towards a much grander scheme.

1) Esteir’s nationality: Nevuchadnetzar exiled Esteir’s nation to Bavel and dismantled their kingship seventy-four years earlier. By no small coincidence, Esteir replaced Vashti, the last remnant of Nevuchadnetzar’s descent, as Achashveirosh’s queen, signifying the downfall of Nevuchadnetzar’s legacy.

2) Esteir’s lineage: When Shaul disappointed Hashem by not annihilating Amaleik, Shmuel declared, “Hashem has torn the kingship of Yirsael from you and given it to your friend who is better than you.” Again, by no small coincidence, when Achashveirosh decrees Vashti’s death, he writes in his law book that “her kingship be given to her friend who is better than her,” and Shaul’s descendent Esteir just happens to assume Vashti’s position.

Esteir recognized immediately that Hashem desired her to replace Vashti as Achashveirosh’s queen, and she graciously seized the opportunity. However, Esteir also understood that her ascension to royalty was not a public matter, not a bargaining chip for her personal gain. Even after Achashveirosh lifted taxes and threw parties in her honor, Esteir never considered disclosing her identity, even if it would bring her nation tremendous honor and wealth. Although those potential benefits would affect not only Esteir but the entire Klal Yisrael, Esteir nonetheless refused to manipulate her predicament for any gain whatsoever.

Perhaps we can apply our definition of tznius to the woman with no hand. If this woman is truly a tzanua, then the love she harbors for her husband should overwhelm any inclination to manipulate her situation, even for her own personal gain. Do we really expect such a woman to stealthily conceal her blemish? Would she really care whether her husband notices? And if this man is a tzanua, then the love he harbors for his wife should likewise overwhelm any concern he would have over whether his wife is missing a hand or not. So again, why would the wife need to hide her hand?

We are therefore forced to concede that this woman actually did not stealthily conceal her missing hand, for there was absolutely no need for her to do so. The love she and her husband had for one another transcended the other lesser aspects of their relationship to the extent that the husband never even noticed that his wife was missing a hand until after she died! Rav exclaimed, “behold how tzanua this woman was, for her love was so strong and her relationship was so carefree that her husband never even noticed her missing hand!” Rabbi Chiya replied, “this is not necessarily so, perhaps she did not fall so madly in love as to overlook her missing hand, but her husband certainly did. Behold how tzanua he is!”

One of the most beautiful products of Rav and Rabbi Chiya’s dialogue is the indeterminacy over who the tzanua member of this relationship was. Perhaps it was the husband, perhaps it was the wife. Perhaps they were both tzanua. No matter what, the love they shared was between them and them alone, and they never disclosed the intimacy and intensity of their relationship. Behold how tzanua they both were!

And so Esteir, Shaul, Rachel and this woman with no hand (and her husband) all exemplify tznius to the purest degree. They forgo all personal gain and ignore all potential setback, and they pursue a relationship far more meaningful than their respective petty desires. They withhold the details of their relationship because these details mean far more to them than to the public. And their relationships provide all the satisfaction they could ever desire.

However, halfway through the Megila, Esteir breaks away from this mold. Mordechai orders that she reveal her identity in order to save her nation, and she does exactly as ordered! According to the gemara (Meseches Megila, 16a), Esteir even discloses her royal ancestry, at which point Achashveirosh resolves to speak directly to her without any intermediary. Clearly Esteir intends to use her identity for a personal gain. She wishes to save Am Yisrael, and to save her own life.

At first glance, one could justify Esteir’s actions in light of her mortally dire predicament. After all, Esteir is in the unique position to save her nation. Her situation seems as clear an indication as she will ever receive that she must reveal her nationality to Achashveirosh! But then does Esteir really need to divulge her lineage? Come to think of it, does she really need to reveal that she herself is a Jewess in order to influence Achashveirosh to spare the Jews? Why can’t she just ask for a favor? After all, if Esteir is so certain that she must save Klal Yisrael, then anything she does (or doesn’t do for that matter) will have very little effect anyhow. It seems that the more Esteir convinces herself she is destined to save Klal Yisrael from the evil grasp of Haman HaRashah, the less important it becomes to reveal all this personal information, for her efforts will obviously prove fortuitous anyhow!

Mordechai said [to Hasach] to reply to Esteir, “Do not consider your life to escape the palace from among all the Jews. For if you remain silent at this time, salvation will arrive for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish.”

Esteir 4:13,14

“Al Tidami BiNafsheich, do not consider your life.” [Al Tidami means] don’t think about, like Ka’Asher Dimisi, “And as I thought about” (BaMidbar 33:56). Do not consider fleeing on the day of the murder [by hiding] in the palace, for you do not even wish to risk yourself now when you might [be killed] for approaching the king without permission.

Rashi, Esteir 4:13

Modechai rebukes Esteir for her unwillingness to approach Achashveirosh and save her nation. As Rashi explains, the word “Tidami” refers to Esteir’s mindset, that her thoughts were focused on saving her own life, and that she should not bear such thoughts. Normally, a tzanua harbors deeply personal information and therefore refuses to disclose it, even for personal gain. In Esteir’s case, however, the very withholding of this information was itself a self-centered gain. Esteir hoped by remaining silent that she could avoid the “day of murder.” But Mordechai, in one sentence of rebuke, points out to Esteir that her tznius stems from her selfless regard for her unique role within a universally grand scheme. Therefore, the moment she selfishly abandons this role, she can be certain Hashem will abandon His use for her within His plan. “Salvation will arrive from another place,” Mordechai warns Esteir, “and you and your father’s house will perish.” Yes, it’s a tremendous coincidence that a Jewess should assume Vashti’s royal throne, and a descendant of Shaul HaMelech no less, but is it really necessary that Yisrael’s salvation come from that Jewess? Nothing is necessary, Mordechai reminds Esteir, except for the utter and selfless devotion of one’s life and deeds towards the fulfillment of Hashem’s Ratzon.

Esteir has no idea how she will ever convince Achashveirosh to spare her nation, let alone her. She invites Haman to her party; if Achashveirosh gets mad for even for a second, perhaps she will have a chance to turn the tables on Haman. Or maybe Achashveirosh will suspect that both she and Haman are plotting against him and order their execution, thereby negating Haman’s decrees. Or maybe some other unprecedented miracle will occur. All Esteir knows for certain is that she must disclose her identity and let go of the silly thought that she can manipulate her situation to her advantage.

“If I have found favor in the King’s eyes… the King and Haman should come to the party I will make for them [tomorrow], and tomorrow I will fulfill the King’s word.”

Esteir 5:8

“I will fulfill the King’s word,” what you asked of me all these years, to reveal my nation and lineage to you.

Rashi, Esteir 5:8

Not only does Esteir reveal her identity, but she commits to doing so a day in advance! If Esteir doesn’t even have a plan, if she has no idea how she will overturn Haman’s decree or how long it might take to do so, why does she commit herself to disclosing her nationality and lineage? Perhaps this commitment expresses how little Esteir truly deemed herself capable of controlling her predicament. Esteir knew her actions would work out for the best, but she could not imagine how. She planted a few minor obstacles for Haman to trip over but ultimately relied on Hashem’s oversight of the situation, and therefore relinquished control of her only security, the secrecy of her identity.

At the heart of tznius lies the obliteration of all personal agendas in lieu of a much more meaningful existence. We are each blessed with incredible qualities, but sometimes we cannot even recognize these qualities as gifts, for we cannot accept that they are bestowed to us by Hashem. Rachel shared her husband’s love with three other wives. Shaul relinquished his crown. Esteir forfeited her relationship to Mordechai and her commitment to a Jewish family by willingly sleeping with Achashveirosh. All three could have easily and almost justifiably rued their blessings. But none did, for they understood the grand role they played within an even grander scheme of events, and that no matter how their nation arrives at a Geula Shleimah, they will have played a just and meaningful part.

Esteir’s efforts propelled her nation towards this Geulah Shleimah, but Klal Yisrael’s mission, even two thousand years later, is far from complete, and the struggle of Purim is not only commemorated in each generation, but also relived. Hashem bestows every individual of every generation, us included, with unique qualities and the capacity to change the world around him for the better. May we recognize the incredible gifts Hashem provides for us, use them for a greater purpose than our own personal exploits, and bring a Geulah Shleimah soon and in our days.