In this week's Torah portion, Ki Teitzei, we encounter one of the most challenging commandments in our tradition: "Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt... you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!" (Deuteronomy 25:17-19). This passage presents us with an apparent paradox; we are commanded both to obliterate Amalek's memory and simultaneously never to forget what his tribesman did.
A wise teacher once told a parable about a farmer who discovered poisonous weeds growing among his crops. He could have simply pulled them out and forgotten about them, but instead, he carefully studied their appearance, learned their growing patterns, and taught his children to recognize them. "Why remember the weeds?" his children asked. "Because," he replied, "forgetting how they look means they can return unnoticed."
The Amalek within us represents something more nuanced than ordinary evil. Most wrongdoings we seek to eliminate and move past. But Amalek, who attacked the weakest and most vulnerable of our people, striking from behind when we were exhausted and defenseless, embodies a particular kind of cruelty that exploits vulnerability and abandons basic human decency. This evil cannot simply be forgotten because doing so leaves us unprepared for its return.
Our tradition teaches that Amalek exists not just as a historical enemy, but as a spiritual challenge within each of us and our communities. The Amalek-impulse whispers that power provides control, that the vulnerable deserve their fate, that we need not concern ourselves with others' struggles. It's the voice that says political differences justify severed friendships, that ideological purity matters more than human connection.
As we find ourselves in Elul, approaching the High Holy Days, we're called to honest self-examination. This season asks us to confront our own Amalek-moments, times when we've chosen cruelty over kindness, division over unity, or abandoned our values when it was convenient. The work of teshuvah (repentance) requires us to remember these failures not to punish ourselves, but to ensure we recognize and resist them when they arise again.
Following last week’s Shabbat Schmooze, I received an email from someone in our community who reached out to a friend with whom they'd lost contact due to political differences. Despite their continued disagreements about our country’s current leadership, they chose relationship over ideology. They remembered what they had learned from their separation, that political differences, however passionate, need not destroy human bonds.
This shared story beautifully illustrates our communal challenge. The Jewish Federation serves young and old, left and right, those in need and those blessed with abundance. Our strength lies not in uniformity of thought, but in our commitment to remain in relationships despite our differences. We remember that throughout history, diverse Jewish communities have thrived precisely because we've learned to hold multiple truths simultaneously.
The command to remember Amalek while destroying its influence teaches us that growth requires honest reckoning with our shadows. Only by acknowledging our capacity for both good and evil can we choose consistently toward light. In this season of reflection, may we have the courage to remember our failures and the wisdom to transform them into sources of strength and compassion. Because we are Stronger Together!
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