Amalek and 9/11 – 20 Years Later - September 10, 2021

 Dear Friends,

There are moments in our lives that define us – as individuals, as a nation and as a people. Once we experience them, we are forever changed, and the impact of these experiences shapes our future for generations.

·        I was not alive on December 7, 1941 when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. 

·        I vaguely remember November 22, 1963 – the day that JFK was assassinated. 

·        But I vividly remember Yom Kippur  -- 5734 – October 6, 1973 – when Israel barely survived a surprise attack by her neighbors.

·        I remember November 19^th, 1977 – when Anwar Sadat stepped off an airplane onto the tarmac of Ben Gurion Airport.

·        I remember January 28, 1986 when the Space shuttle Challenger, exploded in midair.

·        I remember November 4, 1995 -- when Yigal Amir murdered Yitzhak Rabin in cold blood.

·        And we all remember how, 18 months ago, we closed the doors of our synagogues, schools, business and sheltered in place in order to protect ourselves from COVID 19…..

These moments have defined us and will continue to do so throughout our lives. Anyone over the age of 26 probably remembers exactly where you were twenty years ago tomorrow - on September 11, 2001 as we watched images of terror play out in real time.  As we sat and cried out in disbelief and anger when pure hatred showed itself – with the destruction of the twin towers; the gaping hole in the side of the pentagon; and the carnage and bravery on that lonely field in Pennsylvania – our lives were changed in an instant – our nation was changed – nothing was the same.

As I thought about what I would say tonight on this auspicious anniversary, I remembered words from the book of Deuteronomy  that we read three weeks ago that speak about how we are commanded to remember and deal with the memories of our enemies – in particular the arch-enemy of the Israelites – Amalek. These words are also read on the Shabbat before Purim – called Shabbat Zachor – Haman was a descendant of Amalek.

The Amalekites waged a war of terror on the children of Israel as they fled slavery in Egypt. They did not attack the soldiers. They attacked the weak and tired stragglers at the back of the camp. Like all terrorists, their goal was to incite fear and panic by inflicting as much harm on innocent civilians as possible.

In Deuteronomy 25: 17-18, we find the following:

1.     Remember (zachor) what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt...

2.     You shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven.

3.     Do not forget!

Three commandments:  Remember.  Blot out.  Don’t forget!

These three commands, on the surface, seem to be contradictory – Remember to forget! Blot out to remember!  Don’t forget to stop forgetting and remembering….It’s confusing.  It doesn’t make sense.  But if we look closely, these words have a vitally important message for all of us – especially on this 20^th anniversary of our national tragedy.

This first commandment is Zachor – Remember. This weekend is a time of remembering.  We remember that fateful day, 20 years ago that changed our world.

But how should we remember?  What are the proper ways to hold on to something so awful, so painful, so life-changing? 

The answer is by telling our stories.

We Jews are well versed in the art of remembering - of recalling our pain.  Every year on Pesach we tell the story of slavery that led to redemption.  On Yom HaShoah we remember those who perished in the madness and horror of Hitler’s final solution.  On Chanukah, Purim, and Yom Ha-Atzmaut we remember and retell our history – the battles, struggles, triumphs and tragedies. On the 9^th day of the Hebrew month of Av – Tisha B’av – we fast as we commemorate our loss and the destruction of the 1^st and 2^nd Temples. Even at our most joyous moment – under the Chuppah – we break a glass to recall the suffering of our people. By talking about what we, as a people have experienced, we create a sacred narrative that becomes part of our very being.

The events of September 11, 2001 have become inexorably linked with our national consciousness.  To remember that day - to tell the painful stories of our past; of bravery and battle; of courage and compassion – is to affirm both the fact that we were not defeated by terror – but also to acknowledge that we have been changed.

The second Commandment tells us to “….blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven.”

Is this wise? Can we truly erase a memory?

We tell our stories to accept the realities that lie in front of us.  For some, the act of remembering is a path towards healing.  For others, however, it serves a different, perhaps more devious purpose.  When the act of telling our story is used as a tool to invoke and provoke fear or anger or despair by erasing parts of our history – what remains can be used to manipulate and control. The image of the collapsed Twin Towers – once a symbol of power and prosperity – has, all too often, over the last twenty years –been used to create a sense of panic and unease – to cast doubts on our strength as a nation.  It has also been used as a rallying cry for isolationism disguised as patriotism. 

To do this is to desecrate the memories of those who died on that day and in the conflicts and catastrophes that have followed.  If this twenty-year anniversary is about healing – and I believe it must be – then we, as a nation and as individuals, must move beyond the emotions of September 11, 2001 – and find a way to utilize the sense of national unity, pride and strength that we felt as we gazed upon the ashes of destruction and vowed to rebuild.

How do we remember and erase a memory at the same time? A close reading of the biblical text offers an insight into specifically what is to be remembered, and what is to be forgotten. "Remember what Amalek did to you," followed by "blot out the memory of Amalek from under the heavens." This, our tradition teaches, suggests that we are to remember our experiences (where we were when we heard, the images of the falling towers, the names of those who were lost), but we do not focus on the enemy itself: we shun from dwelling on the sick strategies of the murderers, or their story, glorifying them through conspiracy theories or turning them into martyrs. On the other hand, we also are not to use their evil to create demonic stereotypes of all Muslims.  It was their narrow-minded hatred – not their faith that drove them to kill.

When, 10 years ago, our Navy Seals tracked down and killed Bin Laden, far too many people rejoiced in the streets.  I was troubled by this reaction.  While Bin Laden’s death brought some closure and, perhaps, dealt a powerful blow to his followers - as a nation, we should never rejoice in the death of others.  This  cheapens us.  Some might say that it puts us in the same category as our enemies  who cheered when the towers fell.

Last month, as we saw the last American troops leaving Afghanistan – ending our nation’s longest war - we also saw the triumphant Taliban taking their place. While the world is unquestionably safer today than it was when we first went to war, we do not know what the future will bring. Were we successful? Were the trillions of dollars spent, thousands of lives lost, countless personal freedoms stripped away and our international reputation devastated as a result of that war worth it? Only time will tell. War is messy – especially when the ends are far removed from the original intent.

The commandment to blot out the memory of Amalek teaches us that we should focus on his conduct – not his character.  This does not mean, of course that we turn a blind eye to the dangers of Islamic fundamentalism – of course not. With the Taliban back in power in Afghanistan, new dangers await. The unfortunate realities of the world in which we live means that we must remain vigilant and prepared.  But it does mean that we also should focus on finding ways to strengthen our society.  Rather than looking for devils in the debris, we should search for heroes in our homes, our synagogues, our halls of legislation.

Another way to blot out the memory of Amelek is to seek ways to quell the potential for evil that resides in each of us.  Especially during this Shabbat Shuvah – when we have emerged from welcoming in a New Year and we now anticipate the solemnity and power of Yom Kippur - we are acutely aware of our own shortcomings.  The best way to defeat evil is to see it in ourselves and not allow it to control us and how we see the world.

The final commandment in this passage is “LO TISHKACH” – do not forget.  How do we remember and not forget? My nephew, Rabbi Ari Hart, writes the following:  

“The Ramban again offers insight when he writes that zachor, remember, happens with the mouth through speech, but lo tishkach, don't forget, happens with the heart. According to the Ramban, telling the story with only cognitive awareness is insufficient -- we must experience the loss. For some, like those who lost loved ones, there's no way to avoid the heart when remembering tragedy: there is no day, anniversary or not, when they do not feel the pain. Others fortunate to not experience that constant pain must find ways to connect to the memory in both our heads and our hearts. This ensures that we don't just learn from trauma on an intellectual level but that we internalize the lessons into our hearts and will, transforming how we act in the world.”

In other words, when we turn our hearts to the process of “not forgetting” – we are also making a pledge to take that memory and use it to guide us in envisioning and creating a society that truly reflects our highest ambitions and attributes.

Remember. Blot Out. Do not forget.

These three ancient, seemingly strange and contradictory ways of memorializing trauma in a collective consciousness offer profound insights into how to respond to trauma. On this 20th anniversary of 9/11, may we find ways to do all three, telling our stories to bring healing, erasing evil around and within us, and integrating the trauma's unique truths into our fullest selves. May we learn from our pain and work to repair this all-too imperfect world.

May we all be blessed with a year filled with growth, renewal and hope for a better future.

L’Shanah Tovah Tikateyvu V’Tecychateymu – May we all have a good year – filled with healing and blessing - and may we be written and sealed into the Book of Life for the future.

Amen - Ken Yehi Ratzon