Hashem wants us to get something out of Purim that we never have before

T

his Q&A is an amalgam of real conversations I’ve had. With Purim falling out at a time of such terrible news — mourning the dead, worrying for the remaining hostages, agony at the suffering of our brothers — we need to find a way to be marbim b’simchah.

We need to understand that Hashem intentionally scheduled it this way. This is exactly how we’re supposed to feel, because Hashem wants us to get something out of Purim that we never have before. There’s something we can access in Purim that will help us draw strength and move forward.

What’s there in Purim that can help us with our pain?

Let’s discuss pain for a minute. We humans — quite understandably — have a very negative attitude toward pain. When it hits, our natural reaction is to try to wish it away or distract ourselves. Failing that, we beg Hashem to get rid of it.

But why does pain exist? What are we supposed to do with it? Just live through it while holding on to our emunah? Or is there something l’chatchilah about pain? Instead of fighting it, maybe we should learn how to let it carry us along.

Derech Hashem (2:3:5) teaches us that pain is a productive tool. It calls suffering “yissurei he’arah” — not a punishment, but Hashem’s way of waking us up to insights that help us grow. The way He set things up, pain is often the only force that really pushes us to grow. And there’s nothing more beneficial for us — both in this world and the next — than growing in our connection to Hashem.

Pain is here to help us grow. I can put that into practice when I’m dealing with a lost business deal or a tough relationship. But this pain is so huge, so horrific. I don’t feel like it’s helping me grow. It’s just crushing me.

Pain triggers two kinds of responses. It can propel us forward in our avodas Hashem — or it can debilitate us and shut us down. And of course, the stronger the pain, the more we’re at risk of collapsing under it.

So how can we move from being crushed, depressed to being ready to grow? How can we experience this pain as fuel in our spiritual tank without it igniting and blowing us up?

Before I give you clarity on this, I’m going to give you more turmoil. Remember the classic dilemma of yedi’ah versus bechirah, fate versus free will?

We know there’s really nothing in this world but Hashem. He’s in complete control. Everything unfolds according to His perfect plan. He’s the only Mefarnes, the only Malbish Arumim, the only Rofei Cholim. Nothing else has any capability.

But. We live in a world where our actions and choices make a difference — we see it happening. We work, and our bank accounts fill up. We get ourselves dressed in the morning. We go to doctors, they give us medicine, and we feel better.

So what’s true? Yedi’ah, or bechirah?

The Rambam’s answer (Hilchos Teshuvah 5:5) is that we’ll never resolve this paradox. Nevertheless, we need to believe that both sides are absolutely true.

Hashem didn’t create a one-dimensional world. There’s the physical realm, and then, above it, a spiritual one. Our job, as believing Jews who want to serve Hashem properly, is to learn how to recognize and live within both realms.

This is getting a bit too deep. I think I lost you there.

No, you didn’t. Think of it as a house with two floors. There’s the bechirah floor, where we live our human lives and do hishtadlus. Where we go to work, get prescriptions from doctors, vote for Israel-friendly politicians.

But there’s also a second floor — the yedi’ah realm. Where our hishtadlus means nothing. Where Hashem’s absolute, exclusive power is crystal clear.

Both realms exist. That’s how Hashem designed the world. And He didn’t do it to confuse us. He did it so we could learn to move between the two sides of reality and access the benefits of both in our avodas Hashem.

Can you give me some easy examples?

Sure. When we find ourselves at the bottom of a slippery aveirah slope, we have a hard time getting up. Why? We’re overwhelmed with the bad things we’ve done, and who we’ve become. We get depressed. We get paralyzed.

Yedi’ah is a great antidepressant. In the world of yedi’ah, Hashem was the cause behind our downward spiral, not us. He knows best, and He wanted things to happen this way. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

But once we have that clear, we need to move into bechirah mode. Sitting and doing nothing because “Hashem will figure it out anyway” means we miss the boat for our obligation of teshuvah. We need to use the emotional freedom we’ve gained through yedi’ah to make positive choices going forward.

Another example — somebody insults us badly. We’re boiling with anger and ready to spill it all out. That’s a perfect moment to close our eyes and walk upstairs into yedi’ah. To remind ourselves: the insult didn’t really come from this person. It came straight from Hashem. And He isn’t trying to hurt me. He’s placing a growth opportunity in front of me and cheering me on.

Then, when we’re ready to move back into bechirah mode and choose a reaction, we’ll be better able to make a choice of avodas Hashem.

That all sounds very nice. But what does it have to do with Purim?

When you go through the Megillah every year, do you ever think about the experiences of ordinary Jews then? Like today, Klal Yisrael then was in pain, facing frightening gezeiros.

How did they react? They went straight into yedi’ah mode.

They didn’t sit around railing against the terrible Haman and the depraved Achashveirosh. They didn’t beg askanim to lobby the government, or at least find a way to convince the world that Haman was lying about the Jews.

They realized: This has nothing to do with Haman. This is between us and Hashem. He’s talking to us through Haman’s mouth. He’s extending a hand to help us move upward spiritually.

This is the entire lesson of the Megillah. Hester panim. It looks like nature, people, cause and effect — but it’s really all Him. It’s our job to peel back the world’s great disguise and internalize that nothing really exists but us and Him, Him and us. Haman was meaningless and powerless. So is Hamas. And lopsided deals. And Trump. And every other part of today’s picture.

When we linger over these bechirah-mode-only topics — the evil of Hamas, the world’s skewed perspective, the details of the ceasefire deal — we dig ourselves further into a hole of despair and helplessness.

What if, instead, we checked in with yedi’ah first? And then used our bechirah to jump fully into the conversation Hashem has started with us? In the Purim story, Klal Yisrael immediately got to work fasting, praying, and doing teshuvah. What about us? What if our dinner-table talk could switch from anxious political analysis to asking what Hashem wants from us and how we can grow?

How do we figure out what Hashem is telling us?

As Dovid Hamelech said, “Bakamim alai mere’im, tishmanah aznai — When enemies rise up against me, my ears listen.” What was Dovid listening for? Any and all messages Hashem might have been sending through his enemies’ actions.

Haman called the Jewish People “mefuzar u’meforad,” scattered and separated. So Esther declared, “Leich kenos es kol haYehudim.” Achdus. Gather everyone together — physically and mentally.

And today?

One — Hamas is trying to humiliate us. Maybe we should work on being mechabed others. Make more effort to see their maalos and lift them up.

Another one — we’re so distraught as we watch the suffering of Hamas’s victims and their families. Maybe we need to be more sensitive within our own circles. Maybe we can do a better job of supporting friends and family in their own struggles.

And the starkest one — Hamas wanted to break the hostages’ spirit. But we see so many emerging from captivity with exponentially greater emunah than ever. Maybe that’s a reminder that we, too, have so much more within us — so much more power to rise above obstacles and transform ourselves spiritually.

And this really keeps the pain from crushing us and turns it into fuel for growth instead?

Yes. Because when we put ourselves in yedi’ah mode, when it’s just us and Hashem, we go from powerless to powerful — and meaningfully productive. From under Hamas’s psychological thumb to a state where they matter not one iota. From aimless stress to a focused journey toward Hashem. And — though you might not believe me until you try it — from a pain-only experience to one where, alongside the pain, we enjoy the pleasure of increased closeness to Hashem.

V’nahafoch hu!

Yes! And now that you mention it, what’s the significance of v’nahafoch hu? Why, instead of simply saying we went from gezeirah to salvation, does the Megillah emphasize that things “turned around”?

Because Hashem created a world where evil, negative energy, can be converted into good, into positive energy. Where we can take pain, turn it around, and bring forth the goodness within it.

That’s what Jews do. We did it in the Megillah’s times, and we can do it again today. With our national pain and with personal pain. We can make a v’nahafoch hu. Take every challenge, look at it through the lens of yedi’ah, and then use our bechirah to turn it into something indescribably good. Into fuel that powers us forward in our avodas Hashem.

Rabbi Levi Lebovits is the director of the Vaad Project, an initiative to help Jews worldwide find joy, meaning, and fulfillment in their Judaism. He has studied for over 20 years under Rav Reuven Leuchter, and has authored step-by-step guides on teshuvah and the Haggadah.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1053)