Defeating Amalek

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“Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in memory as the wish to forget it.”
Michel de Montaigne

The Torah portion for a recent Shabbat was Beshalach, Exodus 13:17–17:16. When the terrible plagues divinely inflicted on the Egyptians culminate in the death of all their first-born, the enslaved Israelites are allowed to leave Egypt. They are guided to the edge of the Sea of Reeds. Then God stiffens Pharaoh’s heart, causing him to dispatch 600 chariots in pursuit. That leads to the famous parting of the waters, first allowing the Israelites to cross on dry land, then rising to drown the Egyptians.

There’s a lot to discuss and debate in this parshah. It was my husband’s and my turn to choose what to focus on when we talked about it with friends. The theme we settled on is the enduring paradox in the final section where Amalek and his troops attack the people on their journey to the promised land. With divine help, the Amalekites are defeated. In later texts, we are told that the Amalekites attacked from the rear, picking off the weak lagging behind. For this reason their name is used to represent a cowardly kind of predation.

Here are the last few lines of the parshah:

Then יהוה said to Moses, “Inscribe this in a document as a reminder, and read it aloud to Joshua: I will utterly blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven!”

And Moses built an altar and named it Adonai-nissi.

He said, “It means, ‘Hand upon the throne of יהוה !’ יהוה will be at war with Amalek throughout the ages.”

What to make of the directive to “utterly blot out the memory of Amalek” followed immediately by the prediction that God will be at eternal war with Amalek? Which prevails? Does Amalek disappear or remain in relationship forever?

This question has been dissected for centuries. The name “Amalek” is used in many contexts to label those intent on our destruction. The tradition tells us that Amalek is a descendant of Esau, twin brother of the patriarch Jacob. Generations later, that same genetic line produced Haman, the villain of the book of Esther who schemed to exterminate the Persian Jews, and whose defeat inspired the holiday of Purim.

The name has been used for good, for example to call out Nazis; and for ill, to revile as ruthless enemies some whose aim may be more to pursue their own freedom. Like every powerful word saturated with centuries of meaning, it demands discernment. Yet it still has life. To put it simply, here I sit, as have generations of Jews, thinking and talking about Amalek. Ample evidence forces us to stipulate that despite the directive to forget, Amalek’s memory and presence persist.

One obvious reason is wonderfully expressed by the Montaigne quote at the head of this essay: “Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in memory as the wish to forget it.”

That assertion seems very clear to me when I think about the childhood trauma that influences so many lives. No matter how much you or I may yearn to forget the harm that was done by someone we hoped would offer love instead of pain, it reverberates through the years—in the parshah’s words, “throughout the ages.” If its power is to diminish it must be faced with courage rather than ignored or suppressed. With respect to the human subject, if a malevolent force has been present in one’s life, trying to erase it by forgetting is futile.

In the political sphere, this was explained well in George Lakoff’s 2004 book Don’t Think of an Elephant, which greatly influenced those attempting to frame persuasive political messages. Lakoff showed how dwelling too much on whatever you oppose—whether a person or position—tends to center it in awareness and anchor it in memory. If your whole message is “defeat Trump,” focus groups have shown that the people hearing it may remember very little beyond the name “Trump,” hardly the desired effect.

I think about that every day now. Trump’s “flood the zone” strategy was devised to keep him not only in the headlines, but as they say, living rent-free in our heads. I hope the magnitude of his misdeeds will cancel the halo effect for those who still feel it. But what I really wish is that others, equally adept at seizing the spotlight, will paint a powerfully inspiring picture of the social order so many desire. I like to characterize that aim the same way the great Rev. James Lawson did in the founding principles of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee organizing for civil rights in the Jim Crow South: “a social order of justice tempered by love.”

Just the other day I realized that it was time to reprise the three questions I’ve asked so many times in my talks and writings. When people are confused or panicked—understandably so—it can be hard to take a breath, to ask ourselves what we are living for, and to listen deeply to the answers that arise. But if we don’t do that, Amalek fills all the space, and our efforts to defeat him are weakened.

Who are we as a people?
What do we stand for?
How do we want to be remembered?

Surely, surely, surely not as the planet’s cruelest punishers and abusers, the greediest and most self-regarding, the ultimate champions of lies and deceit.

If we had a national referendum on those questions, I have no doubt that the vast majority would choose away from the invasions, kidnappings, murders, bribes, takings, and destruction the MAGA regime has wreaked. As is becoming increasingly clear to more people every day, this force is Amalek, waging war against everyone, regardless of identity, who loves liberty and justice, who prizes truth and kindness.

Ancient wisdom stories encode profound truths that we can draw on for strength and vision. The dialogue between God and Moses in Beshalach is our soundtrack now. We have no choice but to live into it. There is no way to avoid remembering—experiencing—Amalek as he assaults us daily, hourly. There is no way to avoid battling to defeat him. But there is a way to go about it that does not inflate his power: to invest as much in imagining and co-creating a social order rooted in lovingkindness and generosity as in denouncing and resisting those who stand in its way.

Talking Heads, “Life During Wartime.”