Purim has passed, but its light still lingers. There’s something about this holiday that reaches into the deepest parts of us and shakes us awake. Maybe it’s the costumes, the laughter, the endless flow of music, or the way strangers suddenly become friends. For a day, the walls that usually separate us fall away, and we remember what it means to be truly joyful.
This year, my husband and I went to visit my mother in the assisted living where she lives. While we were there, we also visited her two close friends. One of them is very ill and hardly leaves her room. Most of the time she sits alone, without company, without the energy to take part in anything. But when we walked in, dressed in fun costumes, carrying a big speaker blasting lively Purim music, something changed. She didn’t have to say a word; it was all in her eyes. A spark, a glimmer of life that hadn’t been there before. In that moment, I understood that the greatest mitzvah we had done that day wasn’t just delivering mishloach manot or sitting at a festive meal – it was bringing joy to someone who had none.
Purim is a holiday of transformation. “V’nahafoch hu” – everything can turn upside down in an instant. One moment, Haman is at the height of his power, planning to destroy us. The next, he’s hanging on the very gallows he prepared for Mordechai. The Jewish people go from a decree of destruction to celebration and victory. The message is clear: no matter how dark things seem, Hashem can turn it all around in a second.
That’s why Purim flows straight into Pesach. One redemption leads into the next. First, we were saved from Haman’s evil plans, and soon we will sit at the seder table, remembering how Hashem took us out of Egypt. It’s no coincidence that these holidays are so close together. Purim teaches us that salvation can come in hidden ways, through what seems like ordinary events. Pesach teaches us that redemption can come in open miracles. Both remind us that Hashem is always with us, guiding every step of our journey.
And now, we shift from costumes and joy to cleaning and preparing. But if we only focus on scrubbing floors and kashering kitchens, we’re missing the bigger picture. Pesach isn’t just about cleaning our homes – it’s about preparing our hearts. Just as we remove chametz from our houses, we have to remove the chametz from within us – the pride, the habits that hold us back, the fears that keep us small.
Our body is also a home. A house for our soul, a vessel for our purpose. As we prepare for Pesach, we should take time to cleanse not just our surroundings, but ourselves. Listen to divrei Torah while cleaning, fill the air with the sound of emunah, let the process of physical preparation also be a spiritual one. Because true redemption doesn’t start with clean countertops – it starts with a heart that is ready for geulah.
And maybe that’s the lesson hidden in the music of Purim. The joy, the energy, the way the music fills every corner of the street and shakes you awake. It doesn’t let you drown in your own thoughts or get stuck in the weight of everyday life. It lifts you. It reminds you that you are alive. As we step into this next chapter, let’s not lose that. Let’s take that same music, that same joy, and carry it with us. Because redemption is coming, and we want to be ready when it does.
