Remember what the Amalekites did to you along the way when you came out of Egypt. When you were weary and worn out, they met you on your journey and attacked all who were lagging behind; they had no fear of God. When the Lord your God gives you rest from all the enemies around you in the land he is giving you to possess as an inheritance, you shall blot out the name of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!
As you may have noticed, this Shabbat coincides with the festival of Purim which starts on Thursday and in this morning’s second Torah reading, we are commanded to remember the calamities that befell the Israelites at the hands of Amalek. “Remember what the Amalekites did to you along the way when you came out of Egypt.” It was for this reason that the rabbis considered Haman to be descended from Amalek. Rather than concentrate on the fashion and the dress sense of the high priest, my sermon will explore the meaning of the disasters the Israelites faced.
Purim is a reminder of how our calendar seems to overflow with holidays and observances that transport us to former days, inspiring us to re-enter the biblical narrative and relive key moments of our history. One lesson of our Torah portion is that re-enacting historical moments is a forte of Judaism.
Reminiscent of George Santayana’s dictum condemning us to either learn from our history or to repeat it, our parasha relives our history and prompts us to learn from life’s difficult moments.
Throughout D’varim, Deuteronomy, we are constantly encouraged to learn and relearn the mitzvot of the Torah. A common Hebrew name of Deuteronomy itself is the Mishneh Torah, ie., a re-telling, a re-learning of what came before in the previous four books. The English word, Deuteronomy is derived from two Greek words duo for two and nomos for law ie., second law. Much of Deuteronomy, then, is a rehashing of the Torah, requiring a call to action alongside the study of the text to secure our fullest comprehension.
Moses himself is the archetype student – he needs to understand the Torah better, so as to teach better. This is explained by a midrash from Yalkut Shemoni (13th cent) which explains how Moses did not comprehend God’s message and requested clarification of God’s objectives. The first of these occurs after his calling to be a prophet at the burning bush. He faithfully transmits God’s message to Pharaoh and the midrash states that Moses was surprised by Pharaoh’s reaction. If God meant to redeem the people, how could there be a negative response from Pharaoh? Should they not be redeemed immediately? Here, Moses questions the direction from God and seeks to understand the underlying intentions.
The same occurs when Miriam is stricken with leprosy and again when Moses is told to appoint Joshua as his successor. Each time, his interaction with God is not as Moses expects, instead, the midrash has him re-approaching God for clarification.
Towards the end of their time in the wilderness we come across Moses’ final questioning of God. It occurs when Moses beseeches God to go over to the land beyond the Jordan (Deut 3:23-25). But he knew, deep down, the answer was no, like one of my students who asked me whether she really did have to do the set homework.
But the point of this human-divine Q&A is that God educates Moses. In other words, it is not simply Moses appealing to God to enter the Promised Land but to understand why he couldn’t.
In his continual tendency to question, seek clarification and meaning, Moses provides us with a paradigm for Jewish behaviour. Our goal is to ask and think until we understand. It’s about understanding and, to a certain extent, challenging the divine message in order to realise what we missed in the first telling.
This is Deuteronomy…So it is with our calendar of holidays and with our observances. The historical context of each observance and holiday may have been clear to our ancestors, but our reasons for perpetuating them sometimes are not.
This week, for example, what is the contemporary relevance and what meaning can we uncover by fulfilling the command to not forget to blot out the name of Amalek?
With a prophetic eye turned to the furthermost horizon of the future, Moses had been warning the people throughout Deuteronomy that the real dangers would be the ones they least suspected. They would not be war or famine or poverty or natural disaster. They would be at ease with affluence and freedom and prosperity.
That is the danger… when a people are in danger of forgetting their past and forgetting their mission. We become complacent; we may become corrupt. The rich neglect the poor. Those in power afflict the powerless. The people begin to think that what they have achieved, they achieved for and by themselves. They forget God. At the very height of its powers, Israelite society developed fault-lines that would eventually lead to disaster.
Here we have starkly set out the terms of survival of a civilization. Nations begin to die from within. At a time of heightened religious and communal and tension, not to mention an undermining of the rules-based order to which we have previously become accustomed, you may hear echoes today. Taking things for granted leads to overconfidence, which leads to forgetfulness, which leads to decadence, which leads to lack of social solidarity, which leads in the end to demoralization – the prelude to defeat, to disaster.
But one of the strengths of Judaism and what we find from our parasha is that of seeing relevance through our history. Following in the footsteps of Moses our model student, we must learn and relearn and turn, turn and turn it again…
This pattern of relearning applies to the verse, “Do not forget!” Holding fast to our Judaism is not a passive observance but an active engagement, not simply passing through the calendar, but connecting to it and relearning from its historic moments.
Rabbi Kook, the second Chief Rabbi of Palestine at the turn of 20th cent, helps here. He suggested that ‘do not forget’ was not simply about avoiding idolatry and so on but rather appreciating the essential godliness of true existence. Kook suggested that staying alive, life itself, is to be understood not as the opposite of death but as the opposite of mere passive, vegetative existence. It is not a matter of choosing between life and death in the biological sense but between life and mere existence.
However, I don’t think Rav Kook’s words are enough. The attack by Amalek is even more painful to read today when we witness assaults on the vulnerable, such as attacking refugees fleeing civil war in their accommodation or demeaning the ‘Other’ in social media from the safety of our keyboard.
No, it is not enough to rage against Amalek, the classic antisemitic outsider who attacks the innocent, the weak and the helpless. We Jews do ‘suffering’ really well; know how to be the victim really well. It is not enough to beat the breast and wring our hands. We have a moral imperative to act. We must refuse to hide behind expressions of neutrality, knowing that failure to take sides always benefits the oppressor. We have been the strangers in Egypt. We know what it is to be vulnerable, but we now have a responsibility to protect the stranger and the defenceless – and not just ourselves.
And one final point. We have to attack the Amalek within. A Hasidic commentary sees Amalek as a character trait and the battle, as an inner struggle, a Jewish version of the Muslim concept of ‘jihad’, the internal struggle, if you will. This helps explain the meaning of ‘Do not Forget’. We must not forget to blot out the evil within us, as individuals and as a people. It is not about accusing others of being “Amalekites” but being mindful of our own struggle against unethical behaviour, now and in the future. It is in this way, that we can understand Moses’ command to remember the attacks of Amalek.
We, the Jewish people, are commanded to share with our community and with our children what our ancestors saw then, and what we witness now, what they experienced and what we still observe. And act.
Our portion demonstrates the significance of the past – the calamity faced by the weakest among the Children of Israel on their journey in the desert; the present – the misfortune of refugees fleeing disasters in their homeland; but also the future – our future journey, altogether.
Greater is the person who sees God in the face of a stranger and the weak, than one who sees God in a vision of transcendence. As we continue the legacy gifted to us by Moses as he led the Children of Israel towards the Promised Land, do not forget. That is what I understand Moses to have taught the people, and this is what I ask you to remember today.
Kein Yehi Ratzon – may this be God’s will. Amen
