Memory
Thoughts on Parashat Ki Tesse 2020
As Moshe continued
his final sermon to Am Yisrael, he reflected upon their battle against
Amalek, which took place forty years earlier:
Remember
what Amalek did to you on the way when you came out of Egypt, how he fell upon
you on the way and cut down all the stranglers, with you famished and
exhausted, and he did not fear God
(Devarim 25:17-18)
Foreseeing the
future conquest of the Land of Israel, Moshe commanded:
You
shall wipe out the remembrance of Amalek from under the heavens, you shall not
forget.
(25:19)
Interestingly, the
God had already taught about the “memory” of Amalek in His command to Moshe
immediately after the battle:
And
God said to Moshe: “Write this down as a remembrance in a record…that I will
surely wipe out the name of Amalek from under the heavens.” (Shemot 17:14)
In the initial
telling, it was God who would wipe out the name of Amalek, with the “memory” of
Amalek stored in writing. The command now voiced by Moshe, in contrast, placed
the responsibility of “memory” and destruction upon the people, with no mention
of any written text.
Let us consider, for
a moment, a basic difference between “history” and “memory. The contemporary
Jewish thinker Yehuda Kurtzer wrote, “History liberates while memory
obligates.”[1]
We study history in order to learn from the past about how to act in the
future. Realizing that history often repeats itself, we use our knowledge of it
to break free of previous mistakes in similar contexts. But memory is
different. Consider, for example, the way that memory of trauma or suffering
controls our minds and actions. And since the memory may never be erased, we
turn to therapy and psychoanalysis in attempt to, at the very least,
reinterpret its harmful influence. While history informs, memory commands.
History is an external
force which we use to our advantage. Memory is an internal reality which
takes advantage of us. I’m reminded in this context of a story that is told
about R. Haim Volper, a student of the great Magid of Mezeritch, who once
lodged at an inn where a young Lithuanian rabbi was staying. The Lithuanian
rabbi was curious about the teachings and traditions of the Magid of
Mezertitch, who was well-known as a Hasidic legend. He waited for the Volper
Rebbe to fall asleep, and quickly rifled through his suitcase, hoping to find
some writings from the Magid. “Can I help you?” the Volper asked, awakened by
the sound of an intruder in his room. After the rabbi admitted his intentions,
the Rebbe quipped, “Writings?! There are no writings! Everything the great
Magid taught was etched into our hearts!”[2]
History is written in the static pages of a book and preserved as an eternal
lesson. Memory, however, is “etched onto the heart,” constantly guiding
its bearer on the road ahead.
Following Am
Yisrael’s early fight against Amalek, God commanded Moshe to record the war
as history – “Write this down as a remembrance in a record.” The history
would affect the people’s future perspective, providing guidance for life
ahead. But it wouldn’t command any forthright action from the people. Moshe’s
final words shifted that directive. They taught that the battle against Amalek
was not merely a historical event; it was a memory. And memory has a
life of its own. It actively lives on with its bearer, determining their future
course of events and forcing their decisions. Moshe thus taught that memory of
the war with Amalek demands action – “You shall wipe out the remembrance
of Amalek.”
Moshe’s method for
instructing to remember and seek the destruction of Amalek sheds a broader
light onto a life governed by Torah. It teaches that the Torah is more than
just a book of history which provides perspective and direction. It is a
“living memory” which determines our existence and decides our actions.