The United States and Israel are currently jointly fighting a war, and there is ample reason to worry about where it may lead. Our brethren in Eretz Yisroel are under almost constant attack, targeted by Iranian missiles. Lives have been lost, people have been injured, and millions are regularly rushing to and from shelters, living with a constant sense of unease.

The memories of the joy we experienced on Purim are still fresh, along with its enduring lesson: even when events appear dark and chaotic, salvation can already be quietly unfolding behind the scenes. When we place that lesson alongside this week’s laining of Parshas Hachodesh, the message becomes even more powerful.

Parshas Hachodesh announces the arrival of Chodesh Nissan, the month of geulah. But it carries another profound reminder as well. Chazal teach that Am Yisroel is compared to the moon, constantly renewing itself. Just as the moon wanes until it nearly disappears, only to reemerge and shine once again, so do the Jewish people pass through periods of darkness before returning with renewed strength and light. The bleakness never endures. The blackness is never permanent. We always come back, budding and blooming.

The special laining also reminds us that Hakadosh Boruch Hu relates to Klal Yisroel in a way that transcends the normal order of nature, lemaalah m’derech hateva, just as He did when He redeemed us from Mitzrayim. Through the makkos and Krias Yam Suf, we witnessed that even when a situation appears insurmountable, when the odds seem overwhelming, Hashem’s salvation can arrive in ways no human mind could have predicted.

The messages could not be more fitting.

Less than two weeks ago, we celebrated the deliverance of our people from Haman and what appeared to be certain destruction. And this week, as we conclude Sefer Shemos and proclaim, “Chazak, chazak, v’nischazeik,” we are reminded that no matter how unfortunate circumstances are, renewal is always within reach.

That truth is what the yeitzer hora seeks to obscure. His goal is not only to lead a person to sin, but to drain a person’s spirit and convince him that his situation cannot be improved, that he can never escape the rut in which he finds himself. He works subtly, distracting us from our purpose and persuading us that if we falter, we cannot rise again.

But his strategy rarely begins with dramatic failure. Instead, it starts with small cracks. A minor compromise here, a small concession there. When a person yields even slightly, the yeitzer hora senses weakness and drives the wedge deeper, slowly chipping away until the individual finds himself drifting further and further from where he belongs.

Then, after drawing a person into wrongdoing, he convinces him that he has fallen too far to recover, that teshuvah is beyond him, that the path back has been closed.

But the message of these days of Adar and Nissan declares exactly the opposite. Together, they proclaim that despair has no place in the Jewish heart.

Purim teaches us that even when Hashem’s presence is hidden, He is orchestrating every detail of events. In the Megillah, there were no open miracles. The geulah unfolded through what appeared to be ordinary developments: a sleepless king, an overheard conversation, a series of political decisions. Yet, when the story concluded, it became clear that every step had been carefully arranged from Above.

Parshas Hachodesh carries that message one step further. It introduces the month of Nissan, when the hidden hand of Hashem becomes revealed in open and undeniable ways. In Mitzrayim, the Jewish people were trapped in what seemed to be an irreversible reality. They were enslaved by the most powerful empire in the world, with no army, no political leverage, and no natural path to freedom.

Yet, Hashem demonstrated that the forces that appear most powerful are ultimately powerless before Him. With makkos that shattered the illusion of Egyptian dominance, and with Krias Yam Suf that overturned the natural order, He revealed that when the moment of geulah arrives, no obstacle can stand in its way.

Taken together, the lessons of Purim and Pesach form a complete picture of how Hashem guides the world. Sometimes His salvation unfolds quietly, concealed within the ordinary flow of events. And sometimes it bursts forth openly, shattering the rules of nature. But whether hidden or revealed, the Guiding Hand is always the same.

That is why these weeks are so powerful for us.

The yeitzer hora tries to convince a person that the darkness he experiences, whether in his own life or in the challenges facing Klal Yisroel, is permanent. He tells us that the situation is too entrenched, the obstacles too great, the failures too numerous. But the rhythm of the Jewish calendar testifies otherwise.

Adar teaches us that what appears to be a hopeless situation can turn upside down in a moment. Nissan teaches us that renewal, hischadshus, is built into the very fabric of Jewish existence.

The Jewish people emerged from the depths of Mitzrayim to become the Chosen Nation, blessed with Torah and a special closeness to Hashem. Just as the decree of Haman was transformed into deliverance and celebration, so too, the darkness we encounter can never define our future.

And perhaps that is the message we most need to internalize today.

When rockets fall and enemies threaten, when uncertainty fills the air and the future feels unclear, the yeitzer hora attempts to plant seeds of fear and despair. We must remember that Klal Yisroel has always been guided by the Ribbono Shel Olam, Who renews His people again and again.

And just as He has done throughout our history, He will do so once more.

That truth is not only a national one. It is deeply personal as well.

The struggle between despair and renewal does not play out only on the stage of history. It unfolds within the heart of every Jew. Each person encounters moments when he feels distant from where he wishes he were, times when spiritual goals seem beyond reach, when habits feel too entrenched to overcome, and when the distance between who he is and who he hopes to become appears too wide to bridge.

That is when the yeitzer hora presses his advantage. Having drawn a person into a stumble, he quickly attempts to redefine the failure as permanent. He tells him that change is unrealistic, that growth is reserved for others, and that the path back is closed.

But the Torah itself rejects that notion.

The first mitzvah given to Klal Yisroel as a nation was the commandment of “Hachodesh hazeh lochem.” Before Krias Yam Suf, before Matan Torah, before everything else, Hashem taught the Jewish people the concept of renewal. Kiddush Hachodesh was given to us to let us know that we can never be kept down, that the essence of Torah is that we possess greatness, and that greatness can never be suppressed for long.

We are people of destiny, each one of us, and as long as we remember that and remain loyal to our mission, we are a force of light in a world of darkness.

Chazal were mesakein that we lain Parshas Hachodesh as we approach the month of Nissan because this month not only commemorates the geulah from Mitzrayim, but is the eternal reminder that no Jew is ever trapped by circumstance.

For the generation that left Mitzrayim, the obstacles appeared insurmountable. They were enslaved by a mighty empire and surrounded by a hostile society. They were so suppressed that they could not even bear to hear, much less accept, Moshe Rabbeinu’s words of comfort when he told them that Hashem was about to redeem them.

And then, in a flash, the geulah arrived, and before they knew it, they were at the other side of the Yam Suf, a free people on their way to Har Sinai to receive the Torah.

Again and again throughout our history, the pattern has repeated itself. Periods that appear to be defined by darkness ultimately become the very moments from which renewal begins to emerge.

We do not know how events will unfold, nor can we predict the path that history will take in the coming weeks and months. But the message of these weeks assures us that what we see on the surface is never the full picture. Behind the turmoil of the moment, the unfolding of Hashem’s plan continues.

And just as the moon inevitably returns to fullness after its darkest night, so does the story of Klal Yisroel continue to move toward renewal and light. History often reads like the Megillah. While we are living through the events, the meaning is hidden. Only later do we see the pattern.

That lesson resonates powerfully in our own time.

For decades, Iran cultivated the image of a fearsome regional power. Its leaders repeatedly threatened that Eretz Yisroel could be destroyed in minutes and that American bases across the Middle East were within easy reach of Iranian missiles. It surrounded Israel with proxy armies and militant movements and projected an aura of unstoppable strength.

Governments treated the regime with extreme caution. Diplomats pursued agreements and concessions, fearful of provoking the conflict Iran claimed it could unleash.

Over the years, Iran built a vast network of armed proxies throughout the region, organizations such as Hezbollah in Lebanon, Hamas in Gaza, the Houthis in Yemen, and Shiite militias across Iraq and Syria. The network was largely coordinated by the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps Quds Force, once commanded by Qassem Soleimani.

The strategy seemed formidable. If Iran were attacked, these groups would strike Israel and American interests from multiple directions at once, overwhelming defenses and igniting a regional war.

But when the moment of confrontation finally arrived, the outcome was strikingly different from the one Iran had long promised.

Instead of the massive regional assault that had been threatened for years, the response proved hesitant, fragmented, and surprisingly limited. The very proxies that had been built up as instruments of intimidation failed to deliver the overwhelming blow that had been feared for so long.

In that moment, Hakadosh Boruch Hu demonstrated how fragile the illusion of power can be.

Hakadosh Boruch Hu demonstrated that the country everyone feared could crumble when He decides that its time is up. Successive American presidents had made a variety of misguided deals with Iran out of fear of confronting them. Iran was sent planeloads of cash and was allowed to continue its nuclear buildup because, though Western leaders spoke strongly, vowing never to permit them to attain nuclear weapons, when it came down to it, they were afraid of the country’s power.

For years, the strategy seemed to work. Iran’s influence expanded across Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, and Yemen, forming a regional arc of power stretching to the Mediterranean.

Hakadosh Boruch Hu blinded the leaders of Israel, and Hamas launched a devastating assault, killing over 1,200 people, wounding many more, and taking 251 hostages.

Hezbollah opened a northern front against Israel. Iranian-backed militias attacked American bases in Iraq and Syria. The Houthis began targeting international shipping lanes in the Red Sea.

But in the war that followed the Hamas attack, Israel was able to degrade much of the terror infrastructure that had been painstakingly constructed over decades.

Over the following months, Israel systematically targeted Hamas leadership, Hezbollah commanders, weapons depots, and supply routes throughout the region.

Senior terrorists were killed in precision strikes. Infrastructure was destroyed. Intelligence operations penetrated organizations long thought to be impenetrable.

When Israel and the United States eventually launched strikes against Iranian military infrastructure, the response exposed the limits of Tehran’s power.

For years, Iran had warned that any attack would trigger a regional firestorm.

Instead, the retaliation largely consisted of waves of missiles and drones, many intercepted by Israeli and American air defenses.

For decades, the regime projected the image of a rising superpower capable of challenging the United States and destroying Israel.

But when confronted, Iran was barely able to fight back.

To those who view events only through the lens of military strategy or geopolitics, these developments may appear surprising.

But to a believing Jew, the message is clear.

We are witnessing, before our eyes, another reminder that the destiny of Klal Yisroel is never determined by armies, alliances, or weapons. Behind the shifting events of history stands the guiding Hand of the Ribbono Shel Olam.

There has been terrible pain and loss, and every Jewish life is infinitely precious. Yet, within the din, there has been tremendous rachamim. The regime that openly sought the means to destroy Israel and threaten millions of Jews has been unable to achieve its goal. Many of its leaders have themselves been killed, and the instruments of power it spent decades constructing have been weakened or dismantled.

We do not know how this war will ultimately unfold or what challenges may still lie ahead. But we do know that nothing occurs outside the unfolding plan of Hakadosh Boruch Hu.

And during these weeks, as we move from the hidden salvation of Purim toward the redemption of Nissan, we are reminded once again that the story of the Jewish people is never written by the forces that seem most powerful at the moment. It is written by the One Who renews His people again and again, and Who will soon bring the final geulah with the coming of Moshiach.