Mishneh Torah, Scroll of Esther and Hanukkah 1-2

Hook

Imagine a small, intimate synagogue in the heart of the old Jewish Quarter of Aleppo or the bustling markets of Tetouan. It is not the silence of the library that fills the air, but the electric, palpable tension of a community waiting for the Megillah to be unrolled. As the reader begins, the congregation does not just listen; they participate with a rhythmic, vocal "hiss" at the mention of the villain and a thunderous, collective "Amen" to the blessings. It is a moment where the ancient parchment, written in the ink of our ancestors, bridges the gap between the exile of Shushan and the sanctuary of our own homes. The scroll is not merely read; it is performed, a living epistle of survival that demands to be heard, felt, and remembered.

Context

• Place: The Sephardi and Mizrahi world spans a vast, interconnected map—from the Sephardic t'futzot (diaspora) of Amsterdam and Salonica to the ancient, continuous communities of Baghdad, Djerba, and Sana'a. While our locations differed, our commitment to the Mishneh Torah as a foundational blueprint remained a unifying thread.
• Era: Maimonides (the Rambam) composed his Mishneh Torah in the 12th century, during a time when the Sephardi world was navigating the complexities of post-Golden Age transitions. His work synthesized the vast, often overwhelming sea of Talmudic debate into a clear, actionable guide that became the bedrock for Sephardi practice for centuries.
• Community: We speak of a community that defined itself by "The Way of the Sages." Whether in the yeshivot of Fes or the communal courtyards of Mumbai, the Sephardi approach is characterized by a balance: strict adherence to the Halacha (law) as codified by masters like the Rambam, paired with a vibrant, melodic, and highly communal expression of Piyut and Minhag.

Text Snapshot

"It is a positive mitzvah ordained by the Rabbis to read the Megillah at the appointed time... Everyone is obligated in this reading: men, women, converts, and freed slaves. Children should also be trained to read it. Even the priests should neglect their service in the Temple and come to hear the reading of the Megillah. Similarly, Torah study should be neglected to hear the reading of the Megillah."

— Mishneh Torah, Laws of the Scroll of Esther and Hanukkah 1:1

Minhag/Melody

In the Sephardi and Mizrahi tradition, the reading of the Megillah is an exercise in communal identity. Unlike the Ashkenazi custom, which often emphasizes the individual's obligation in a private setting, our minhag focuses on Pirsumei Nisa—the public proclamation of the miracle.

Consider the Piyut connection: in many communities, particularly those influenced by the Moroccan or Iraqi traditions, the lead-up to Purim is marked by the singing of Piyutim that echo the themes of Esther. One such treasure is "Shoshanat Ya’akov," which is not merely a concluding prayer, but a rhythmic anthem that summarizes the communal joy. The melody for the Megillah itself often shifts—it is not a singular, static trope. In some traditions, the verses describing the decree of Haman are read in a somber, minor-key maqam (a musical mode), while the verses describing the victory of the Jews transition into a major-key melody that feels like a dance.

Furthermore, the Sephardi practice of spreading out the scroll as if it were an "epistle" (iggeret)—as noted by the Rambam—is a profound physical act. We do not hide the scroll behind a veil or a small frame; we expose it fully. This creates a visual reminder of the letter sent by Mordechai to all the provinces. In many Mizrahi homes, the "noise" made during the reading is not just random; it is a ritualized expulsion of Haman’s influence, often accompanied by the chanting of specific verses in a way that involves the entire congregation. The Rambam’s insistence that even Torah study should be set aside for this reading underscores the unique status of Purim as a day where the "hidden" light of God—the Hester Panim—is brought into the open through the collective voice of the people.

Contrast

A respectful point of divergence exists between the Sephardi practice of the Berachot (blessings) and certain other traditions. As the Rambam delineates, the Sephardi custom follows the established ruling that the final blessing—HaRav et Riveinu—is recited in a communal setting because it serves as a public declaration of God’s justice.

Some other communities, following different authorities, may omit this blessing or recite it only under specific conditions. This is not a matter of "correctness" versus "error," but a reflection of how different communities interpret the halachic mandate of "publicizing the miracle." In the Sephardi world, the public nature of the reading is paramount; therefore, the liturgy of the Megillah reading is designed to be as "loud" and complete as possible. Another community might emphasize the intimacy of the reading, focusing on the precision of the individual’s hearing. We honor both: the Sephardi emphasis on the public square and the other’s emphasis on the personal ear. Both seek the same goal—to make the ancient story of Esther relevant to the modern heart.

Home Practice

For your own practice, I invite you to adopt the "Epistle Fold." During the reading, or even if you are just reading the text quietly at home, physically fold or spread your copy of the Megillah so that the entire text is visible, rather than rolling it up as you go. As you read, take a moment to pause at the names of Haman’s sons. The Rambam teaches us to read these in one breath to show they fell together. Try this: even if you are reading alone, take a deep breath before those names and release them in a single, focused exhalation. It is a small way to connect your physical breath to the historical moment of the victory of our people.

Takeaway

The heritage of the Sephardi and Mizrahi tradition is one of continuity through celebration. Whether it is the rigorous legalism of the Rambam or the soul-stirring melodies of our Piyutim, everything we do on Purim is designed to ensure that the memory of the miracle does not "cease from our seed." We are a people who have lived through many "Haman-like" decrees, yet our response has always been the same: we open the scroll, we sing the story, and we feast, ensuring that our children know that even in the darkest times, the story of redemption is always waiting to be read.