On Purim, we celebrate the deliverance of the Jewish people from Haman’s sinister plot to annihilate them. We read and study the Megillah, reliving the stunning reversal that transformed a decree of destruction into a day of light and joy, and tracing the downfall of the wicked Haman.

The Megillah is unique in the fact that the name of Hashem is not mentioned openly anywhere in the entire narrative. Unlike other moments in our history, the Hand guiding events remains concealed between the lines. Purim was the first major miracle of national deliverance in which Hashem’s presence was hidden, His orchestration discernible only in hindsight. As the story unfolded, it appeared to move forward through political maneuvering, palace intrigue, and human courage. Only once the salvation was complete did it become evident that every detail — including the seudah of Achashveirosh, Vashti’s downfall, Esther’s rise, the king’s sleepless night, and everything else described in the Megillah — had been precisely arranged as part of a Divine plan.

Until Purim, Hashem’s role in our redemption had been revealed openly and unmistakably, often through events that transcended the laws of nature. The makkos, Yetzias Mitzrayim, Krias Yam Suf, and the miraculous sustenance in the midbar proclaimed Hashem’s mastery for all to see. The supernatural was evident, the message undeniable.

But the salvation in the days of Mordechai and Esther ushered in a new era. It was accomplished b’hester, within the natural order, through seeming coincidence and ordinary events. And so it has been ever since. We celebrate Purim not only to commemorate what happened then, but to internalize what it teaches now: That nothing is random, nothing is happenstance. Even when Hashem’s name is seemingly not written into the story, His presence is there. What appears fragmented and confusing is, in truth, carefully choreographed by Hashem Yisborach, guiding His people toward their ultimate redemption.

Once again, Klal Yisroel finds itself confronting grave danger. Nearly 2,400 years after the wicked designs of Haman to annihilate the Jewish people, we faced an existential threat from the regime in Iran.

For 47 years, since the Iranian Revolution, Iran’s leaders have openly proclaimed their hostility toward Israel and the United States, funding terror proxies across the region while pursuing nuclear capabilities and long-range missile technology. Israeli officials have warned for decades that a nuclear-armed Iran would pose an intolerable threat, not only to Israel but to global stability. American administrations, along with other Western governments, have insisted that Iran must never obtain a nuclear weapon, though diplomatic efforts and negotiated agreements often fell short of eliminating the danger.

This past Shabbos, after years of escalating tension and repeated warnings, the United States and Israel launched coordinated strikes targeting senior Iranian military leadership, nuclear facilities, ballistic missile installations, drone infrastructure, and command centers.

The objective was to halt a program that had crossed declared red lines and was rapidly advancing toward operational capability. Last year’s attacks apparently slowed, but did not stop, Iran’s efforts to build and expand its nuclear and missile programs.

The regime that repeatedly pledged to wipe Israel off the map appeared to be inching closer to that goal. Negotiations were attempted, but as the threat intensified and intelligence assessments grew more alarming, leaders concluded that the window to act was narrowing. When the opportunity presented itself to rid the world of the country’s leadership, the war was launched.

And thus, in the very region where the Purim story unfolded, and in the week of Purim, we find ourselves holding our collective breath. As in the days of Mordechai and Esther, events are moving swiftly, alliances are shifting, and the stakes are nothing less than the safety of millions. We recognize that beyond the military maneuvers and political calculations, Hakadosh Boruch Hu guides everything.

We are living through dangerous and historic days. Across Eretz Yisroel, families once again began the week hearing the wail of sirens and rushing to shelters as barrages of ballistic missiles streaked across the sky. Regrettably, some of those missiles landed in populated areas and claimed lives.

We daven that this conflict ends swiftly, that innocent lives be spared, and that the threat hanging over Klal Yisroel be decisively removed.

Just as the hidden Hand became clear at the end of the Megillah, we pray that soon we will merit to see, openly and unmistakably, the yeshuah that is now unfolding.

Boruch Hashem, most of us reading these words have never had to scramble to a shelter with minutes to spare. But for our brothers and sisters in Eretz Yisroel, this has become an all-too-frequent reality. And yet, no matter how many times they have done it, they never grow accustomed to it.

War is not merely headlines and briefings. It is not maps and military jargon. It is fear. It is disorientation. It is being jolted awake in the middle of the night, or abandoning what you are doing in the middle of the day, clutching your children as you race to safety, reciting kappitlach of Tehillim as you run. It is the collapse of normalcy, with schools closed, businesses shuttered, flights canceled, and deliveries halted. It is the steady, unrelenting anxiety that settles into the body and clings to the soul.

Having your day interrupted by sirens and a frantic dash to a shelter before a missile strikes is more than inconvenient. It is nerve-racking, frightening, and life-altering. It reminds a person, again and again, how fragile life is.

And yet, amidst the chaos of sirens and explosions, a Jewish heart responds instinctively: “Hashem yishmor. Hashem will guard us.” Every rocket intercepted is a manifestation of His mercy. Every near miss is an indication of His will and rachamim. Ultimately, no defense system and no army operate independently of the Ribbono Shel Olam. He alone determines who will be protected, who will be spared, and who will emerge to say, “Hashem was watching over me.”

We are a nation that has endured more than any other in history, not because of our superior strength or political advantage, but because of our unbreakable bond with the Ribbono Shel Olam. That connection has carried us through empires that rose and fell, and through Hamans of every generation, and it sustains us still, in these days of sirens, smoke, rockets, planes, and peril.

With rachamei Shomayim, most of the intended targets inside Iran are being struck, and with each successful operation, the threat is further diminished. Missiles are intercepted. Catastrophes are averted. Entire barrages that could have wrought unimaginable destruction are stopped midair.

And yet, as we saw in Tel Aviv, Beit Shemesh, Yerushalayim, and other cities, there are rockets that penetrate the shield. They land. They destroy. They maim. They are painful reminders that alongside rachamim, there is also din. They remind us how fragile life is, how dependent we are on siyata diShmaya, and how urgently we must draw closer to Hakadosh Boruch Hu to merit protection.

As maaminim bnei maaminim, we understand that while armies battle on the physical front lines, we wage war on a spiritual one through tefillah, teshuvah, and tzedakah. Every added kappitel of Tehillim, every act of chesed, every extra moment of Torah learning fortifies the battlefield forces in ways we cannot measure. The unseen weapons of Klal Yisroel have always been its most powerful.

And when the war feels prolonged and the darkness thick, we cling to the promise of the novi: “Ki lo yitosh Hashem amo,” Hashem will not forsake His people.

Even now. Especially now.

In times of conflict, many are tempted to become amateur geopolitical analysts. Conversations quickly turn to speculation — why the enemy acted, what strategic calculus was at play, how deftly this leader or that one responded. Pundits dissect the decisions of presidents and prime ministers, attributing outcomes to political brilliance or failure.

But we know better.

This war, like every war, unfolds because Hashem willed it so, not because a particular leader desired it, and not because of one treaty or another speech. Events do not generate Divine plans. They implement them.

It is not that circumstances aligned and therefore history moved. History moves because the Ribbono Shel Olam directs it, and circumstances align accordingly.

Just as Paroh ascended to power to set the stage for Yetzias Mitzrayim, so are contemporary leaders positioned precisely where they need to be to fulfill a larger design. The revolutionary regime that took control of Iran in 1979 did not emerge by accident. The global powers that enabled it, restrained it, negotiated with it, or confronted it did not act outside the framework of Hashgocha. Each played, and continues to play, a role in a script authored long before any of them took office.

It’s not that Trump won and therefore the war happened. It’s the other way around. Trump won because Hashem wanted the world to move toward this moment.

Presidents and prime ministers occupy their posts because, at this juncture in history, the Ribbono Shel Olam requires them there. The world is being guided, step by step, toward its destined culmination. The threats we face, the alliances that form, and the confrontations that erupt are all part of a process moving creation toward geulah.

Because Hashem wants to set up the world for Moshiach to reveal himself and redeem us, He brought the world to this juncture.

We may not yet see the full picture. But just as in the days of Purim, when the Hand was hidden until the final moment, so too, we now live within a story still unfolding, guided with precision, purpose, and promise.

When we forget who we are and Who sustains us, when we allow ourselves to be distracted by headlines and worldly analysis, we risk becoming like the Jews of Shushan, threatened by Haman after having sinned by indulging in the feast of Achashveirosh and drinking from the keilim of the destroyed Bais Hamikdosh.

The Rambam opens Hilchos Taanis with a powerful statement: “Mitzvas asei min haTorah, it is a mitzvah in the Torah, to cry out to Hashem and to do teshuvah whenever any tragedy strikes.” This is derived from a posuk in Parshas Beha’aloscha (Bamidbar 10:9). When tragedy strikes, it is ultimately a reflection of our own shortcomings, and the path to overcoming it is through teshuvah.

Those who reduce wars or calamities to purely political or natural explanations, or who deny or ignore Hashem’s role in the unfolding of events, are engaging in a form of cruelty. They obscure the truth, prevent people from recognizing the Divine Hand, and hinder the opportunity for teshuvah. None of us wish to be counted among the cruel, especially when the Rambam is not offering opinion but articulating halacha and revealing the true nature of the world according to the Torah.

The Chovos Halevavos teaches in Shaar Cheshbon Hanefesh that someone who places his faith in Hashem is never abandoned. Hashem opens the gates of understanding, reveals the hidden depths of His wisdom, watches over him, and does not leave him to the limitations of his own strength.

The Gemara (Avodah Zarah 2b) tells us that when Moshiach comes, the nations of the world will protest the punishment they are about to receive for their treatment of the Jews. They will claim that all their actions were intended to benefit the Jewish people and facilitate their service of Hashem and the Torah. Persia, modern-day Iran, will argue, “We built bridges, conquered lands, and waged wars all to enable the Jews to learn Torah.”

While it is conceivable that infrastructure projects could indirectly support Torah study, what of war? Perhaps the Gemara is hinting that even wars and threats can serve as wake-up calls — to frighten, to warn, to inspire teshuvah, and to redirect hearts toward the Torah.

When the Supreme Ruler of Iran publicly declared his intent to destroy Israel and raced to arm the nation with nuclear weapons and ballistic missiles, the world largely stood by, making only nominal attempts to curb his ambitions.

During last year’s twelve-day conflict, Israel cleared the skies, striking hundreds of targets and neutralizing military leaders, nuclear scientists, and key infrastructure. In just a few days, a nation seventy-five times smaller dismantled decades of buildup, despite Iran’s strength and pride. Though rockets were fired in retaliation, Hashem’s protection was unmistakable. Most were intercepted, and the death toll remained minimal. Every life lost is a tragedy, yet the contrast between what could have happened and what actually occurred can only be explained by Hashgocha Protis.

This is not strategy. This is not luck. This is not political brilliance.

This is Hashem’s Hand. This is the unfolding of a Divine plan. This is the sound of the approaching geulah.

Let us not waste this moment. As the war continues, as sirens wail and bombs threaten every part of Eretz Yisroel, let us raise our voices in passionate tefillah that Hashem spare us from the evil intentions of the anshei Poras and Yishmoel.

Let us strengthen our commitment to Torah, chesed, tzedakah, and the refinement of our middos. Let us build zechuyos with every word of Torah learned, every tefillah sincerely recited, and every act of kindness performed.

Just as in the days of Mordechai and Esther, when danger loomed and Hashem’s Hand was hidden, we live today with the awareness that nothing is by chance. Every challenge, every threat, every moment of uncertainty is part of a Divine plan. Purim reminds us that even when Hashem is hidden, His providence is real, guiding every event and protecting His people.

We are reminded that our role is not passive. While Hashem orchestrates the world, we are called to act as only we can through Torah, tefillah, tzedakah, and chesed, refining ourselves and building zechuyos for ourselves and our people. Just as Esther and Mordechai played a crucial role in the miracle of Purim by leading Am Yisroel to teshuvah, so will our spiritual efforts today help bring about the hidden yeshuah for which we all yearn.

Let us live with clarity and courage, seeing both the dangers and the opportunities that lie before us. Let us be a people who respond to fear, threats, and uncertainty with emunah, bitachon, and unwavering trust in Hakadosh Boruch Hu.

May this be the last war, and just as the Megillah ends with orah, simcha, sasson and yekor, may we soon see peace break out in the Middle East and throughout the world and be zoche to the coming of Moshiach Tzidkeinu.