The Importance of Remembering

The Importance of Remembering
D’var Torah for Shabbat Zachor—March 18, 2011
Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman

Every year around Yom Ha-Shoah—Holocaust Memorial Day—my father, z”l (may his memory be a blessing) used to send me a post card with a short message inscribed in his inimitable, stylized Hebrew handwriting: zachor et asher asa l’cha Amalek—“Remember that which Amalek did to you.” The phrase, taken from Deuteronomy 25:17, the reading that is done immediately following the regular weekly portion, refers to a vicious tribe of people that attacked the Israelites soon after their exodus from Egypt. The attack, carried out at night and by stealth—was aimed at the rear of the camp, where the weak and discouraged, the sick and injured were struggling to keep pace. In the Torah, Amalek becomes the archetype of all that is evil within human nature.

It is no coincidence that this passage gives its name to the Shabbat immediately preceding Purim: Shabbat Zachor. The evil Haman, the very mention of whose name we try to obliterate, is said to be a descendant of Amalek. His comeuppance (he was hanged alongside his 10 sons) symbolizes the fulfillment of the commandment to eradicate the memory of Amalek from this earth: zachor et asher asa l’cha Amalek, “Remember that which Amalek did to you.”

If only we could.

Evil is impossible to eradicate, least of all in our memory. No one today is able to, or may, eradicate the memory of Auschwitz, its stamp upon our bodies, souls and minds.

The urge to make the wrong choice—yetzer ha-ra—is embedded in the human psyche, part of the freedom to choose that is part of our humanity. From the very start, we are warned by God and the Torah to choose good, to choose life. “Sin is crouching at the door,” God warns Cain before the latter makes his wrong choice and kills his brother, Abel.

“Choose life that you and your children might live,” reminds us the Deuteronomist (Deut. 30:19).

But it is no easy task. Yetzer ha-ra—the evil urge within us—is sometimes very powerful. It seduces us, overwhelms us with easy answers and simple, but wrong, solutions.

Mitzvot—the commanded deeds of loving kindness—aren’t there only to help us create a better and holier world. Rather, they are part of a regimen, an exercise routine whose purpose is to strengthen us, to enhance our moral resolve so that when temptations do come up—as they constantly do—we find ourselves strengthened and better able to resist them.

The verb zachor (the command form of “remember”) is used in context of yet one more mitzvah in the Torah: Zachor et yom ha-Shabbat, “Remember and observe the Sabbath day.” Shabbat is the symbol of holiness in this world. A sign of the covenant between God and Israel, Shabbat represents the handshake, the partnership, the share of holiness that is the image of God in each of us.

And the role of this strange holiday of Purim?

One of the commandments associated with Purim is the mitzvah to become inebriated. To get so drunk that you can’t tell the difference between Mordechai and Haman, between good and evil. Drink after drink, one must search in one’s heart and see whether the difference is still clear, only to realize that it still is.

For the memory of Amalek must never be forgotten.

Long gone from history, Amalek remains a symbol of the human potential for cruelty and savagery. We don’t have to dig far in the annals of history for examples. The picture side of the post cards my father used to send me was invariably of miniature models of Nazi concentration camps, constructed and preserved in the Ghetto Fighters’ Kibbutz near Haifa, or of Anne Frank’s house in Amsterdam. Not-so-subtle reminders of the persistent and horrific nature of evil in this world.

On Purim—which will be celebrated around the world this coming Saturday night and Sunday—a vital question is asked: Behind the carnival atmosphere, when you strip away the masks, underneath all the pretense, who are you? Inside each of us lies a beast, crouching at the door, just waiting for the slightest opening. Simultaneously, however, in each of us there is also a good angel. And that yetzer, that sweet surge within us toward care, compassion and kindness, is also waiting for just the slightest gesture, the simplest invitation.

Purim represents not only the ultimate triumph of good over bad, but also of the victory within each of us of Holy over Evil. And that, indeed, is a good reason to celebrate with great joy.

A happy Purim to all, and Shabbat shalom.

©2011 by Boaz D. Heilman