This past Shabbat, we read the Torah verses commanding us to remember Amalek, the paradigmatic enemy of the Jewish people, who attacked our ancestors from behind while they were vulnerable in the wilderness.
In Jewish tradition, Haman is understood to be a descendant of Amalek. Over time, however, “Amalek” has come to symbolize a larger, more painful truth: that in every generation, there are those who rise up with the intent to destroy us. Sadly, history has shown us repeatedly that this is no mere story; it is the reality of our lived experience.
This past week brought an extraordinary and chilling development. Ayatollah Ali Khamenei—the dictator who ruled Iran for decades and oversaw the world’s largest state sponsor of terror, a fanatical leader with the blood of countless innocents on his hands—was killed in an Israeli strike in Tehran. It is extraordinary to reflect on the fact that the verses about Amalek were being chanted in synagogues worldwide at the precise moment these events were occurring.
By the time the holiday of Purim arrived on Monday night, the struggle against “Amalek” was still playing out in full force and in real time. Across Israel, our brothers and sisters found themselves chanting the Megillah while taking cover in bomb shelters as sirens pierced the air. It was a poignant sight to behold: the ancient story of Jewish survival being read aloud even as the Jewish people faced immediate danger in our own day.
None of us knows how this will unfold. History teaches us humility; the consequences of this moment could increase the danger for Israel, America, and the world. Or, and this is our deepest wish, this could lead to a better, safer world for Israel, Iran, and the entire Middle East. No matter how it plays out, just as in the Purim story itself, there is an undeniable sense of relief when one who has long oppressed and threatened the Jewish people is no longer able to do so.
Of course, we would all prefer a world where such conflicts were resolved through diplomacy alone. It would be kinder and far less tragic if negotiations were always enough. But it was unrealistic, perhaps even naive, to imagine that words alone could restrain a regime that has devoted its very being to spreading violence through proxies and terror for almost five decades.
We never celebrate warfare. We resort to it only when there is no other choice. Yet, there are moments in history when confronting those who seek total destruction becomes unavoidable, when to fail to do so is morally indefensible. Perhaps this was such a moment.
In the Purim story, Mordecai famously asks Esther: “Who knows whether you have come to your position of power for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14)
וּמִי יוֹדֵעַ אִם־לְעֵת כָּזֹאת הִגַּעַתְּ לַמַּלְכוּת׃
We cannot know where this path will lead. But many of us hold a cautious hope that through this turmoil, we might eventually find greater safety for Israel and greater stability for the world.
I close with this prayer:
Ribbono shel Olam (Master of the Universe), turn the hearts of those who seek evil toward goodness. Bend them toward compassion, wisdom, and peace.
But if they refuse, grant the rest of us the resolve to stand against tyrants and dictators, so they may never carry out their plans of destruction.
For those forced to defend our lives, our freedoms, and our values, grant them courage on the front lines. Protect the soldiers who bear that heavy burden. For those seeking refuge in shelters across Israel and the region, may they be safe and sound and emerge from this ordeal unharmed. May the loss of innocent life be as minimal as possible. May justice prevail. May we vanquish those who seek terror.
Even in the midst of war, we long for the day when the vision of the prophet will come to fruition:
לֹא־יִשָּׂא גוֹי אֶל־גוֹי חֶרֶב וְלֹא־יִלְמְדוּ עוֹד מִלְחָמָה
“Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they study war anymore.” (Isaiah 2:4)
M’kor HaChayim (Source of Life), help us bring that day closer.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yoshi