No matter how much we work on our emunah, no matter the level we reach, Amalek’s impact will resurface

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e’ve all noticed the Amalek paradox. We’re commanded to obliterate Amalek’s memory from under the heavens — every single year, without forgetting. If the point of parshas Zachor were simply to eliminate Amalek’s memory, we wouldn’t reopen their story every year. Obviously, there must be a deeper purpose to this mitzvah.

Let’s add another question: Our history is chock-full of evildoers, attackers, and enemies. But there’s only one whose memory we’re commanded to wipe out. What made Amalek so uniquely terrible that we’ve been given a mitzvah to stamp out his memory?

The answer to this question starts with an incident that happened just before Amalek attacked. In parshas Beshalach, we read the story of “Massah U’Merivah,” where Klal Yisrael complained to Moshe about the lack of water. They challenged him saying, “Hayesh Hashem bekirbeinu im ayin? — Is Hashem in our midst or not?”

In the very next pasuk, Amalek strikes. Citing Chazal, Rashi explains that the two stories were juxtaposed because the first caused the second. Amalek’s attack was Hashem’s response to Klal Yisrael’s questioning.

Rashi then quotes Chazal’s famous mashal about a father traveling with his son on his shoulders. The child expresses a need — once, twice, three times — and the father immediately fills it. But then they pass another person, and the son calls out, “Have you seen my father?”

Now the father responds, “You don’t know where I am?!”

He puts his son down — and a dog approaches, and bites him.

How are we to understand this mashal? The boy’s father was carrying him and giving him whatever he asked for. How could he have forgotten his father was there?

And the answer is that he didn’t forget his father was carrying him. The problem was that he wasn’t seeing him. He knew conceptually that he was on his father’s shoulders, but as reflected in his question, “Have you seen my father?” he didn’t actually see him.

We all struggle with that dissonance on some level, and in that gap between what we know in our intellect and what we feel, Amalek lives inside us.

Rav Shlomo Wolbe taught us that every personality we encounter in the Chumash — from the greatest to the most evil — expresses itself inside us in some way. For example, when Rav Wolbe learned the parshah of Nimrod, he would ask himself, “Where is the Nimrod inside me?” What hidden part of me feels rebellious against Hashem on some level?

The parshah of Amalek isn’t just about our external foe. It’s about a negative force that lives inside us.

We may not have doubts about Hashem’s existence. We may have total clarity that He orchestrates every aspect of our lives and that everything He does is for the good. But that knowledge isn’t enough.

Hashem isn’t just orchestrating everything in our lives; He’s communicating with us — in order to draw us closer to Him.

Nothing in our lives happens by chance. Everything we notice, everything we experience, every stimulus that enters our awareness contains a message from Hashem — a message we’re meant to reflect on and grow from. But we aren’t seeing Him “in our midst.” We aren’t noticing these messages.

Sure, we notice the big ones, the global events or major tragedies too powerful not to arouse our attention. But we don’t see the millions of quieter ones in our ordinary lives. We may start our day with a faith-filled Shacharis. But we don’t carry that connection into our day. When a dawdling child makes us late, or a coworker says something irritating, or the washing machine starts leaking again, we just see difficult things happening. We don’t translate them into direct communications from the Father who only wants our good and our connection with Him strengthened.

This premise doesn’t hold true only for negative experiences, but also for positive ones, and even the neutral, “random” ones.

Rav Yisrael Salanter once attended a shul where aliyos were sold. As he listened to the gabbai auction off aliyos for “groschen,” the currency at that time, he suddenly grasped his beard and exclaimed, “I am grei shoin — already gray — and what have I done with my life?”

To most of us, the connection between groschen and grei shoin feels far-fetched. Yet Rav Yisrael made the connection because he had reached a level where he was acutely aware that every tiny experience carries a message from Hashem.

The Baal Shem Tov writes that life is a mirror — specifically, a mirror to the parts within us that need improvement. When we see someone else doing something wrong, he teaches, Hashem is letting us know that that negative tendency exists within us on some level.

Nothing, but nothing, just happens. Life is an endless one-on-one conversation between Hashem and each of us. Everything we witness, no matter how removed we might be from it, contains a personal message addressed specifically to us.

It’s not enough to vaguely know Hashem makes everything in our lives happen for a good reason. We need to realize that the purpose is something immediate we’re supposed to see and act on.

We don’t question Hashem’s Hashgachah pratis as a concept. But we still react to life as if it’s just “happening.” On a practical level, we do question. Why we weren’t raised in a healthier family? Why is parnassah such a struggle for us when others are raking it in? Why are our relationships so challenging? Why doesn’t our boss appreciate our work enough? Why do all sorts of little and bigger things keep going wrong?

What if we could see the messages behind these things? What if we could experience them not just as challenges but as communications inviting us to come closer to Him? To strengthen our bitachon? To get back on track in an area we’ve been falling in? To make us greater, more patient, more forbearing, more like Him?

With this in mind, we can resolve the Amalek paradox. No matter how much we work on our emunah, no matter the level we reach, Amalek’s impact will resurface. Last year, we may have internalized that Hashem runs our lives with total Hashgacha pratis — but now, we’re struggling to “see” it play out practically in our day-to-day lives.

That’s why the Torah gives us an annual reminder: Be vigilant. Don’t forget to test the strength of your current emunah against Amalek’s influence. And make sure to purge as much of that influence as you can.

The Purim season is hectic. Our schedules are tight. Our expenses rise. Traffic snarls. Wine spills. Things happen. This Purim, let’s choose one of those things and erase the word “happen.” Let’s see the phenomenon for what it is — Hashem interacting with us. Let’s take a minute to figure out what He’s telling us. And then, let’s take one small step in the direction He’s pointing us toward. —

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 1101)