SEPTEMBER 12 • 2024 | 49

CONSTANT VIGILANCE
There is such a thing as rational 
xenophobia: fear and hatred of the 
foreigner, the stranger, the one-not-
like-us. In the hunter-gatherer stage 
of humanity, it was vital to distin-
guish between members of your 
tribe and those of another tribe. 
There was competition for food 
and territory. It was not an age of 
liberalism and tolerance. The other 
tribe was likely to kill you or oust 
you, given the chance. But within 
two or three generations, the new-
comers acculturated and integrated. 
They were seen as contributing to 
the national economy and adding 
richness and variety to its culture. 
When an emotion like fear of 
strangers is rational but unjustified, 
eventually it declines and disap-
pears.
Antisemitism is different. It is 
the paradigm case of irrational 
hatred. In the Middle Ages, Jews 
were accused of poisoning wells, 
spreading the plague, and in one of 
the most absurd claims ever — the 
Blood Libel — they were suspect-
ed of killing Christian children to 
use their blood to make matzah 
for Pesach. This was self-evidently 
impossible, but that did not stop 
people believing it.
The European Enlightenment, 
with its worship of science and rea-
son, was expected to end all such 
hatred. Instead, it gave rise to a new 
version of it, racial antisemitism. In 
the 19th century, Jews were hated 
because they were rich and because 
they were poor; because they were 
capitalists and because they were 
communists; because they were 
exclusive and kept to themselves 
and because they infiltrated every-
where; because they were believers 
in an ancient, superstitious faith 
and because they were rootless cos-
mopolitans who believed nothing. 
Antisemitism was the supreme irra-
tionality of the Age of Reason.
It gave rise to a new myth, The 
Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a lit-
erary forgery produced by members 
of the Czarist Russia secret police 
toward the end of the 19th century. 

It held that Jews had power over the 
whole of Europe — this at the time 
of the Russian pogroms of 1881 and 
the antisemitic May Laws of 1882, 
which sent some 3 million Jews, 
powerless and impoverished, into 
flight from Russia to the West.
The situation in which Jews 
found themselves at the end of what 
was supposed to be the century of 
Enlightenment and emancipation 
was stated eloquently by Theodor 
Herzl, in 1897: “We have sincerely 
tried everywhere to merge with the 
national communities in which we 
live, seeking only to preserve the 
faith of our fathers. It is not permit-
ted us. In vain are we loyal patriots, 
sometimes super loyal; in vain do 
we make the same sacrifices of life 
and property as our fellow citizens; 
in vain do we strive to enhance the 
fame of our native lands in the arts 
and sciences, or her wealth by trade 
and commerce. In our native lands 
where we have lived for centuries 
we are still decried as aliens, often 
by men whose ancestors had not 
yet come at a time when Jewish 
sighs had long been heard in the 
country … If we were left in peace 
… But I think we shall not be left 
in peace.”
This was deeply shocking to 
Herzl. No less shocking has been 
the return of antisemitism to parts 
of the world today, particularly the 
Middle East and even Europe, with-
in living memory of the Holocaust. 
Yet the Torah intimates why. 
Irrational hate does not die.
Not all hostility to Jews, or to 
Israel as a Jewish State, is irratio-
nal, and where it is not, it can be 
reasoned with. But some of it is 
irrational. Some of it, even today, 
is a repeat of the myths of the 
past, from the Blood Libel to the 
Protocols. All we can do is remem-
ber and not forget, confront it and 
defend ourselves against it.
Amalek does not die. But neither 
does the Jewish people. Attacked 
so many times over the centuries, 
it still lives, giving testimony to the 
victory of the God of love over the 
myths and madness of hate. 

Our Obligation as Jews
O

ne of the criticisms of the 
Torah is that it is poorly 
constructed as a work of 
literature, and, therefore, inferior 
to religious works that were written 
after it. Critics point to a 
narrative that is mostly 
chronological but interspersed 
with random laws. I believe 
they are missing the beautiful 
structure underlying the 
Torah, one that sustains 
Judaism to our own day.
It is true that the laws of the 
Torah are not given in strict 
order or category. You cannot 
look up all the specific laws 
of marriage and divorce in 
one section or all the dietary 
laws or all the holidays. The 
Torah is trying to teach us that all of 
life, in all its complexity, is infinitely 
connected and cannot be separated 
into convenient but misleading 
parts. 
Our Torah portion has a lot of 
different laws that do not seem to be 
connected to each other.
There are laws of agriculture, 
divorce, building codes, fights, oxen, 
donkeys and birds’ nests.
If you look at them as strictly as 
rules, it seems like they were just 
thrown together. If you see them as 
containers of deep values, then they 
make sense. 
They are all connected by a 
common goal. The purpose is to 
destroy the spirit of Amalek. The 
way to do that is through kindness. 
Kindness to people you have 
power over.
Kindness to people you no longer 
love.

Kindness to those you are 
responsible for, even if they make 
you upset. 
Kindness to the descendants of 
those you hate.
Kindness to those who can’t 
take care of themselves or 
may even cause themselves 
harm.
Kindness toward those in 
debt.
Kindness toward those with 
different abilities.
Kindness toward those 
who might be viewed as 
insignificant.
This is how we destroy 
the spirit of Amalek. We 
remember what Amalek did 
to us. We remember that 
Amalek tried to turn us into people 
as hateful as his were. 
Judaism must be the antidote to 
hate and to the oppression of those 
who are vulnerable. Israel means the 
struggle to do God’s work on Earth, 
to protect God’s creation. 
There is no middle. One is either 
on the side of compassion or on the 
side of hate, on the side of life or on 
the side of death.
It may not work out. Our 
obligation is to try. It will refine 
our own souls. It will make us 
react better. It will make us more 
appreciative of our own lives and 
make our loved ones happier to be 
with us. 
We can end the spirit of Amalek 
in our lifetime and fulfill the Torah’s 
dream for us. 

Aaron Bergman is a rabbi at Adat Shalom 

Synagogue in Farmington Hills.

SPIRIT
TORAH PORTION

Rabbi Aaron 
Bergman

Parshat 

Ki Tetze: 

Deuteronomy 

21:10-25:19; 

Isaiah 

54:1-10.

