Hallel's Added Meaning on Yom Ha'atzmaut

When one reads the Hallel – the festive Carlebach melodies aside – one notices a strange phenomenon. Rather than being a set of psalms festive and sanguine in nature, most of them have a very strong overtone of sadness, recalling sorrows, past and present – and ones' greatest and most dire difficulties. Is that the purpose of the Hallel, a prayer that we reserve for the times of greatest joy, the three Torah-ordained festivals, Pesach, Sukkot and Shavuot, and Chanukah, and Rosh Chodesh, when festive offerings were brought in the temple, to celebrate our monthly renewal, as a people and nation?

Interestingly, the Gemorah takes a very different tack, sharing a narrative very much at odds with the one we have taken as a given. Firstly, the Gemorah records six different opinions at to who first uttered the words of the Hallel, interestingly, none of them being the famous psalmist, King David. The first opinion – Rabbi Eliezer – is Moshe and the Jewish people, beseeching Hashem at the sea, and summarily being saved; the next, Rabbi Yehuda, is Yehoshua and the people, going up the daunting Canaanite nations, the third, Deborah and Barak, who ultimately defeated Sisrah, the commander of Hazor, who was reputedly as fierce and menacing as Goliath. The next opinion has Hezekiah and the sages of his generation composing the Hallel, when confronting Sennacherib, the king of the Neo-Assyrian empire, who was indomitable, and lambasted and demeaned the besieged Jewish forces, daring their God to show his face. Rabbi Akivah posited that was no other than Chananya, Mishael and Azariah, who Nebuchadnezzar placed in the burning furnace, before God miraculously saved them. The last opinion is Mordechai and Esther, when the Jewish people faced demise at the hands of the evil Haman, only to be miraculously saved through God's hidden hand, Haman, hoisted by his own petard.

That notwithstanding, in each of these instances, there is a time of suffering, affliction or potential demise, which spurred the recitation of the Hallel, with Hashem, hearing our prayers, saving us, and consequently the Jewish people in body and spirit.

In contrast to the above opinions, the predominant opinion in the Talmud (Chachamim) state that it was our nation's prophets – Moshe, Aharon, and Miriam, along with the subsequent prophets – who were the framers of the Hallel, and – that not just that, in every generation, were sorrow to befall our nation, or a fear of imminent demise, the nation should gather together and state Hallel, hopeful of future salvation and redemption that Hashem has planned.

Though we do not say Hallel ourselves at times of despair, when one takes a deeper look at the verses of the Hallel: "Hashem shall lift the destitute from the depths," "lifeless rock shall be turned into bountiful water," "Why should the nations say, 'Where is there God?'", "The dead can no longer praise you," "You have wiped away my tears, my legs from affliction," "Surely the death of the righteous is of grave consequence in your eyes," and "I was surrounded by swarming hornets, engulfed by blazing thorns."

The conclusion of the Hallel does strike a more positive note, reiterating Hashem's providence – "What has befallen me is from you; it is great in our eyes – this is the day Hashem has made, we shall regale and rejoice!" but after making that statement we turn to God again in prayer, and ask Him to save us, and make us succeed in the face of our sorrows.

The Hallel, at its very heart, is an enigma. We are pulled and tugged, on the one hand towards feelings of deprivation and loss, but all the more so, in the opposite direction, to the certainty of imminent victory, salvation that will surely come, and is just moments away.   

At this time, with Yom Ha'atzmaut feeling very far from it, we again internalize the true initial intent of Hallel, to praise God by reaffirming our absolute faith in His providence, however it may express itself.