Baltimore, MD - Mar. 4, 2026 - My Shalach Manos are packed. Mostly. My house is a jumble of cellophane, ribbon and an assortment of nosh and soda cans, with labels waiting to be affixed on packages.
Purim is just about here, but really Purim is already here. Haman is dead. The world awaits the changing of the guard, if there will even be one in the ensuing chaos of what was once the ancient land of Persia, today known as Iran.
I have been flitting in and out of erev Purim errands along with reading the latest news that’s out there while saying Tehillim. Yes, the talk is all about the might of the military and how many bombs in how many seconds destroyed how many targets. Might of the military or might of G-d? We as Jews know the truth and on Whom to rely on, and we say this in kaptiel chuf.
As of this writing on Sunday, it was a scant few hours that we sat in shul adhering to the commandment of the Eradication of Amalek with the recitation of Parshas Zachor, and here we are, he has been eradicated, Yemach Shemo. LaYehudim Haysa Orah V’sameicha, we proclaimed at Havdalah not even realizing what we were saying. Kos Yeshuos Esa! Indeed we are rejoicing, and at the same time, we are mourning once again for those killed by the missiles not intercepted successfully. It is not a paradox. To paraphrase Rabbi Goldberger who I heard speak at a melave malka, the Zohar says there are two chambers in the heart; one for joy and one for tears. We can hold both, and we can do it simultaneously. We have gotten a lot of practice doing that lately.
Some of us may be holding our breath for our precious soldiers, friends and family members, who are once again being moser nefesh for our People. Did we ever exhale? Maybe some of us did. The war ended! The hostages were returned, with the final precious one brought to Kevuras Yisroel. It is so easy to fall back into the easy routine of life, the “worry” of the shaloch manos theme and costume for this year, with the stress of the mundane, and blessedly so, living. I, however, still have not removed the yellow magnetic ribbon from the back of my van, nor from my front door from last years leftover Purim ribbons. We invested so much in those yellow ribbons, we invested our very own souls with our prayers. We came together as a Nation. I am not ready to give that up.
Over Shabbos, I read about different organizations and Chabad houses in beautiful places that have welcomed injured soldiers, as guests, for rehabilitation and support. It is truly astounding to read their bio’s. There was one picture of a skier, enjoying the slopes, on his prosthetic skis. It was an awesome picture to behold and eye opening to ponder the inner strength of these hero’s, some of whom have returned to army service! It gave me context as how to view our collective trait for hope and rebuilding, as individuals and as a people. It gave me a new framework in which to view the Purim story. Where else could we get such strength from and the courage to live and continue, to thrive and to flourish?
There have been countless essays and articles on the topic of Esther Hamalka’s fortitude and Mordechai HaYehudi’s convictions. Originally I was going to write about that ,not giving up on whatever is going on in our lives, and finding a way to push through our own internal barriers. Man plans; G-d laughs as my teacher often said in Navi class. How could I not write about the Nissim Geluyim of the Purim story playing out once again in real time?
My cousin from Israel left me a message; I liken her to that of my personal Israeli correspondent. She is the one doing the reassuring! She tells me they are OK! Everyone wants this war! This war is like a vaccine that no one wants to get but knows how important it is. She laughs and says that Trump is the “vaccinator.”
I look at the posts people share, at the dancing of so many in the streets of Israel and in bunkers. I marvel at the Morah’s who continue Gan and their lessons in their homes instead of school. To see all the little queen esther’s shaking their graggers as the Morah calls out from the megillah with great glee, “Haman!” Yes, there are sirens, but the children can continue to be children under the precious care of their dedicated Morah’s. And we all know the prominent role the children played in the Purim story with their Rebbe, Mordechai, as they davened and cried and the decree of destruction was ripped up due to their heartfelt pleas.
I too connect to those Morah’s, bigger queens than their student counterparts. One morning when teaching my own students about the Purim story, we heard music from the hallway. The boys sat in their spots (so proud of them!) and wondered what was going to happen. After years of teaching, I knew what was to come. The older boys came in with their rebbeim, some costume clad, singing and dancing and spreading the joy of Adar. Then it happened again the next day, but for some reason there was a delay in the boys coming to our room. As we were waiting patiently (proud of them still!) for them to burst in once again, it struck me that this is what Geulah is.
We have experienced it before with the Purim of yore, and we are waiting and oh so ready for it to come once again. The music is getting louder and I sit with my boys waiting, as all of Am Yisroel does, on the cusp of something great.
Wishing all of us a V’Nahapoch Purim.
Written as a zechus to protect our soldiers, both in Israel and the USA, and for the safety of Klal Yisroel.
