Bobbing and weaving through the slalom of life

Peace feels elusive.”

I did not watch the Winter Olympics. That doesn’t mean I was unaware of them — it’s impossible to avoid the highlights. I simply wasn’t “sitting down to watch.” Still, one event stayed with me: the downhill slalom, a race down a winding course filled with obstacles.

Every time I hear the word “slalom,” my mind converts it to shalom (peace). As a Jew and an Israeli, that’s how I’m wired. Once, the word shalom evoked comfort and warmth. Today, its absence triggers foreboding.

As monumental world events unfold and the storm clouds of a broader war gather, it is hard to think of shalom. Peace feels elusive, almost unattainable. Our children continue to fight and fall in Gaza, Lebanon and Syria. Far fewer than before, thank G-d, and the war has achieved extraordinary gains, even miraculous ones. But they have come at terrible cost.

Hamas refuses to surrender its weapons, feverishly regrouping and plotting to destroy us another day, like the Amalekites who sought our destruction in ancient times. In Lebanon and Syria, Israeli soldiers maintain a fragile non-belligerency. In Judea and Samaria, troops work daily to uproot terror and reassert sovereignty, while preventing violence that threatens both Jews and Arabs.

The promise of Saudi Arabia joining the Abraham Accords — which not long ago seemed within reach — has receded. Meanwhile, anti-Israel and anti-Jewish hatred metastasizes across the globe, from elite academic circles to the streets.

And looming over all is Iran, ancient Persia, a land once home to a great Jewish community yet also to Haman.

A

s we approach Parshat Zachor, in which we are commanded remembrance of Amalek, we must not to forget what Amalek tried to do to us at our nation’s dawn. Haman tried again centuries later. Hitler followed. Now another generation rises with similar intent.

This is not hyperbole. The possibility of wider war is real. America stands at Israel’s side, supplying weaponry, defensive systems and intelligence. China and Russia support Iran. Satellite images document constant movement — air defenses, cargo transport, personnel. We can see everything in real time, and yet we understand so little.

Is America posturing? Is Iran bluffing? Are Russia and China signaling or preparing? The gathering of three superpowers, armed with enough force to devastate the world many times over, is reason for sober contemplation.

Thirty-five years ago, during the first Gulf War, I first heard of a midrash in the Yalkut Shimoni. The Lubavitcher Rebbe, noting that Israel, though uninvolved in the Iraq conflict, was struck by more than 40 Scud missiles, cited this text and suggested redemption might be near. He famously said, in paraphrase, that Moshiach had been revealed, though not yet arrived.

The Talmud in Yoma 10a and Avodah Zarah 2b states that Moshiach ben David will not come until Persia falls at the hands of Rome. Tosafos comments that Persia will fall to Rome, and Rome will rule the world for nine months before redemption.

The Yalkut Shimoni, commenting on Isaiah, describes a final confrontation: the king of Persia provokes the king of Arabia, who seeks counsel from Edom — traditionally identified with Rome, later Western civilization. Persia attempts to destroy kol ha-olam (all the world). The nations panic. Israel cries out, “Where shall we go?” And G-d responds: “Ba’nai, do not fear. I have done this for you. The time of your redemption has arrived.”

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Whether one reads these passages literally, metaphorically or cautiously, they resonate.

The Gemara in Rosh Hashanah 11a teaches: “B’Nisan nigalu, u’b’Nisan atidin l’higael (In Nisan they were redeemed, and in Nisan they are destined to be redeemed).”

We now stand in Adar, on the cusp of Purim, the holiday of Haman’s downfall in Persia.

I am no prophet. I am perplexed, confused and frightened by this slalom of shalom. The twists and turns of this course can trip even the most skilled athlete.

The Jewish people have been skiing this treacherous path for millennia, with breathtaking victories and heartbreaking losses.

When you begin a slalom run, you need two things: training and a guide.

Our training and guide are Torah and mitzvot. As Proverbs 6:23 teaches, “Ki ner mitzvah v’Torah or (For a mitzvah is a candle and Torah is light).”

Rav Nison Alpert, zt”l, in his work Limudei Nison, writes that one who travels at night through darkness relies on flashes of light to avoid snares, thorns and danger. These flashes are Torah and mitzvot. They determine whether we arrive at our destination in sh’leimut (wholeness) or ne’edar (lacking).

The words shalom and sh’leimut share the same root. Peace is not merely the absence of war. It is completeness. It is arrival.

As we descend this slalom of shalom, twisting around obstacles we did not choose, we steady ourselves not with ski poles but with Torah scrolls. We lean not into fear, but into faith. The gates rush toward us; the course narrows; the stakes are high. Yet we have traveled this path before.

And we know that the light — however flickering — still burns.

Shabbat Shalom and Happy Purim.

Write: Columnist@TheJewishStar.com