The War We See and the Plan We Don’t

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

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.

Sirens, Tehillim & Faith

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

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.