Beginning on Wednesday evening, March 16 and continuing until nightfall on March 17 is the Jewish holiday of Purim. (For religious purposes, Jewish days run from sunset to sundown.) Purim is the celebration of the survival of the Jews in ancient Persia, from the wicked plot of Haman, as described in the biblical “Book of Esther.”

Perhaps the most unusual thing about this book is that it is in the Hebrew Bible of the Jews (as well as in the Old Testament of Christian scriptures) despite the fact that God is never mentioned. The book does seem to allude to God, or at least cosmic forces, acting behind the scenes, but God is never mentioned explicitly. Indeed, the rabbis in antiquity who determined which writings were sacred enough to be included officially in the Hebrew Bible they were formalizing vigorously debated the issue of its inclusion before deciding it should make the cut.

Perhaps the reason it ultimately prevailed is precisely because God is only found there implicitly. Understandably, we would like to have obvious, incontrovertible and palpable proof of the existence of God and what God wants from us. A burning bush or the splitting of a sea might be nice. It would definitely help make our lives more certain and assured. But that’s not the nature of the daily experience for most of us.

Faith is the recognition that there is more to our lives and the world around us than we can access directly. And this truth is found beyond the sphere of religion. How do you feel – not just infer, but feel - the care, concern or love of another human being? How do actors sense the energy of an audience in a silent, dark theater with bright stage lights in their eyes? How do we know when a sound or a sight is beautiful? How do we recognize, if we are truly honest with ourselves, whether we have acted morally or not?

None of these are merely part of the realm of our ordinary five senses. They are not within the empirical processes with which we analyze and incorporate overt information. And yet, we all know with certainty that those intangible experiences are real. Even the ultra-rational skeptics among us live their lives, as a practical matter, as if they are genuine realities. As my doctoral studies in religious philosophy would acknowledge, there are ways to account for all of this in formal ways. But that’s not what’s important for our daily lives.

What matters is that we open ourselves up to what is greater than ourselves and beyond what is overtly apparent to us. Our lives can be enriched by recognizing, like the “Book of Esther,” there is always much more present in our lives, contributing to them than simply the superficial. Whether in the realm of the Divine, cosmos or humanity, let us appreciate the powerful omnipresence that is just beyond the veil of our senses.