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.