Two recurrent threads run through the Megilah, the themes of silence and of crying out.  In Shir Hashirim, King Shlomo writes, "Hashmi'ini es koleich ki koleich arev. Let me hear your voice, for your voice is sweet." Arev can mean either sweet or a raven. Hashem tells us, "I want to listen to your voice, even if it is objectively unpleasant like a raven, for to me it is very sweet." Like a parent who sends his child away but still yearns to hear from him, Hashem deeply desires a connection with us.

We read in the Megilah how Mordechai, "let out a bitter cry" after learning of Haman's evil plans to kill the Jews. The Rambam teaches that there is a positive commandment to call out to Hashem when disaster strikes. The word k'aiev can mean either pain or from our father. This implies that we must turn to our Father in heaven, the one who sends us the pain, for He is sending us a message. Perhaps we are off track. Maybe we should be paying more attention to something that needs correcting. Saying, "It happens, that's just the way life works," is cruel because it prevents us from recognizing that it is Hashem behind it all. The salvation began with Mordechai's cry, a wake-up call to the Jews, which shook up the upper and lower levels of the world.  The Tikunei Zohar explains that tze'aka, calling out, stands higher than prayer because it is wordless expression that emerges directly from the heart.

Esther is commonly associated with Chapter 22 in Tehilim, which begins, "Lamnatzeach al ayelet hashachar." Ayelet referes to an animal, or alternatively, to the morning star that appears before dawn breaks. Esther personified ayelet hashachar. She grasped the midda of Rachel. Esther knew when to keep silent and when to cry out. She was a paragon of modesty, yet capable of responding to the need of the hour. This is how the Purim miracle happened. The Midrash says that on the third day of her fast she wept and said, "Hashem why have you abandoned me." After that she went to Achashveirosh and initiated events that would bring the Jew's salvation. Esther is compared to an ayala, a deer who cries out to Hashem for rain in the midst of her difficult birth. She does not focus on her own personal suffering but on the pain of others.

Esther, though comparatively safe in the palace, focused on the imminent tragedy of Klal Yisrael. Similarly, if we turn away from our own suffering and focus on the pain of the Divine Presence in exile, we can bring the geulah.

The Likutei Maharan notes that tze'aka is a bridge that brings a person from unrealistic thought to realistic thought. We are often in a stage of small-mindedness, we only think about our personal needs. We must work to reach a level of gadlus hamochin, where we recognize that everything we were given must be used for our tikun and the difficulties we encounter must bring us closer to Hashem. Tze'aka expresses that it is not me but Hashem who controls everything.

Women generally cry out in birth. This signifies their transition from self-centeredness to selflessness. Their lives will now mainly revolve around caring for a baby. This is how all births happen, whether a new child, or a concept or Torah idea, or a new understanding in tefila. It all comes through tze'aka where a person reaches his end point and surrenders everything to Hashem. A critical aspect of the essence of Purim is calling out to Hashem and realizing that we have nothing except Him. The Zohar points out the greatness of tze'aka. It tears evil decrees and is above midat hadin. Then all externalities fall away and we discover who we truly are.

The miracle of Purim teaches us that there is eternal hope, that if we find ourselves in distress we can cry out to Hashem and he will listen. May Hashem transform our tze'aka to tz'ehala and may we experience the joy of salvation just as in the days of Mordechai and Esther.

The Gemara tells usin the name of  Rav Yehoshua ben Levi, an early Amora, that we are obligated to read the Megilah in the evening and repeat it during the day. After Haman was killed, the decree to kill the Jews remained in effect. Mordechai and Esther only succeeded in securing permission for the Jews to fight back. They cried out to Hashem on the 13^th of Adar, as it says in Tehilim, "Elokei ekra yomom v'layla lo dumiya li. I called out to Hashem in the morning and at night." Rashi notes that this is the source for reading the Megilah two times.

Tosfot teaches that we must recite Shehecheyanu before the evening Megilah reading and again in the day. Normally Shechiyanu is only recited on a mitzva the first time it is performed. Why is it repeated here? Tosfot answers that since the verse "Elokei ekra yomam" mentions day first, the main mitzva of publicizing the miracle and reading the Megilah is during the day. Additionally, the Megilah notes, "V'hayimim elah nizkarim v'naasim. These days are recalled and observed." Nizkarim refers to the verbal reading of the Megilah, and naasim refers to the rest of the mitzvot of the day. Tosfot makes an equation between the verbal mitzva of Megilah and the action oriented mitzvot that are performed during the day. This proves that the main mitzva of Megilah is in the day and therefore Shehechiyanu is repeated.

The Rambam disagrees and says that Shechehiyanu is not recited again. We can extrapolate that he does not hold that the main mitzva is in the day. Rather, the double readings are two aspects of a single mitzva. The fact that day is mentioned first in "Elokei ekra" is not a proof in halacha but a historical note that the battle began in daytime and extended into the night. The Rashba adds that the verse is only teaching us that we need to read the Megilah twice, not that the day mitzva is primary. 

The consensus of most Acharonim is that the daytime mitzva was the original mitzva given m'divrei kabbala. The night time reading was added later on and is only a mitzva m'drabanan. Therefore, explains the Turei Even, Tosfot rules that we are obligated to make two Shehechiyanus. Although the format of the mitzva may be the same, their nature is different.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik adds an intriguing insight. He explains that the Gemara's exhortation to repeat the Megilah during the day relates to the word mishna, to learn.  The Rabbis instituted the night time reading as a warm-up to remind us of the story. The day reading could then be devoted to pondering the Megilah in greater depth. That is why we say Shehechiyanu again. The second time should be more meaningful.  May the insights we glean this Purim lead us to a greater appreciation of the day.    

Question:

Every year when I listen to the Megila, I am haunted by Esther's tragedy. How can we understand her personal suffering?

Answer:

Esther's tragic saga is a living metaphor of the Divine Presence in exile. There was no exile worse than Esther's. She was a prophetess, righteous beyond anything we can imagine, and yet she was forced to marry the evil Achashveirosh and bear his child. Her fortitude in maintaining her identity in spite of all she had to contend with is similar to the Second Temple condition. While the Divine Presence was apparent during the First Temple, it was hidden during the Second Temple. Finding Hashem in His place of concealment is in many ways greater than finding Him in his place of revelation.

At the end of time, the light of the moon will eclipse the light of the sun. The glow of those who only absorbed reflected light will equal those who gave forth light. The women of the tents, our imahot (foremothers), will recognize that there were women who weren't of the tent who were as great as they were. This is what Esther teaches us. Her life is an inspiration to all of us to hold on to our heritage despite the darkness and pain of exile.