Last year on Purim, the curtains parted for a few hours

Most of my children are talkative, sharing their thoughts easily and frequently. My middle son, though, is quiet. When asked, my lanky teen tells me that yeshivah is fine, his rebbi is fine, his day was fine.

I’m all for things being fine, but I do sometimes wish I could get a deeper glimpse at what he’s thinking and feeling. Last year on Purim, the curtains parted for a few hours.

Our seudah was in full swing, the appetizer consumed, the main course served, and the wine flowing. My son had already had a few cups when he got up to make a siyum. He struggled to stand straight, managing to right himself eventually. As everyone looked on, he finished a masechta, and said the hadran to a shower of mazel tovs. And then he lifted up his gemara and started to cry.

“Eizeh maseches, what a maseches!” he cried out. “Bava Kama, I love you Bava Kama.” He kissed the gemara and clutched it close.

The younger kids giggled.

I wept.

I knew learning didn’t always come to him quickly or easily. I knew he worked hard to obtain what he did. And I was so proud of that. What I hadn’t known was that he’d managed to find the spark that could ignite his days, that could ignite his soul: ahavas haTorah.

On Purim, when inhibitions fall away, his secret emerged.

It didn’t mean everything would be easy going forward. But if there was love, anything was possible.

On Purim, Klal Yisrael saw their salvation emerge from a chain of seemingly unrelated events that had taken place over nine years. The extraordinary turnabout gave them a glimpse of Hashem’s deep love for them and how He orchestrated world affairs to save them.

Sensing that love on a visceral level awakened their love for Him. And on Purim “kimu v’kiblu,” the Nation reaccepted the Torah, this time from love.

***

It’s impossible not to look back at last Purim and see it at the “end of normalcy” or the “the beginning of the nightmare we can’t seem to wake up from.” It’s easy to see all we lost this past year, to focus on everything that isn’t as we wish it would be. But Purim is a day for finding the love.

Ultimately, Rabbi Nissel tells us in his beautiful Fundamentals article, at the end of days, we’ll see that everything — each setback, disappointment, and loss — had purpose, it was a brick in the path that led to our redemption.

Most of us will be having a toned-down Purim this year. The teeming crowds, huge parties, and spirited seudahs of former years will be drastically shrunken to smaller, more subdued affairs. And yet, perhaps it’s here and now that we can take a little more time for tefillah, that we can reflect upon the past year and identify the many pinpricks of light.

Joy, Sarah Chana Radcliffe reminds us, is not the result of perfect external circumstances; it’s an emotion engendered within. Purim, the Yom Tov created in the darkness of galus, is a reminder that no matter how bleak things seem, Hashem’s love is everlasting and always present. If we seek it, we’ll find it. And that connection will lead us to joy.

Wishing every one of you a truly freilechen Purim,

Bassi Gruen

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 732)