March 11th: Vayikra and Zachor
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
For many years, one of my mentors was Rabbi Lawrence Jackofsky. Affectionately known as Jake, he was the regional director of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (now, the Union for Reform Judaism) for the Southwest, and I used to see him in a variety of contexts: my home congregation in Lafayette, Louisiana, student-congregations in Arkansas and Mississippi, the congregation I served in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, regional congregational and rabbinic meetings, and at the Henry S. Jacobs Camp in Mississippi. As an important official, he was often asked to give the benediction at services, conventions, or meetings, and, no matter what he said, he invariably concluded with the same verse: “Adonai oz l’amo yiten; Adonai yivarech et amo vashalom. The Lord will give strength to our people; the Lord will bless our people with peace.” (Psalm 29.11)
I do not know why he focused so much on that verse, and I must admit that, in my younger years, I wished he would find another verse. However, as the years have gone by, I have come to appreciate more and more Rabbi Jackofsky’s insistence on this message from the Psalmist. There is a theology here than we all need. Especially in times of war.
We need the oz / strength from Adonai, so that we can defend ourselves against evil. There are bad guys out there, and, if we do not have strength to confront them, then we shall not be around to experience shalom.
I believe that this need for self-defense is the reason for our special extra Torah portion. In addition to Vayikra, the opening section of Leviticus, Tradition enjoins us to read a paragraph from Deuteronomy 25 (verse 17-19). It is called Zachor: “Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—how, undeterred by fear of God, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers in your rear. Therefore, when the Lord your God grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that the Lord your God is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!” (Deuteronomy 25.17-19)
Sometimes, we joke about the similarity in themes of Jewish holidays: “They tried to kill us; God stopped them; Let’s eat.” We could get picky and point out that this is only the theme of three Jewish holidays (Chanukah, Purim, and Passover), but that is beside the point. There is a persistent theme in our liturgy, our rituals, and our holy days about the ever-present dangers that have threatened us for some 4000 years. In this case, we read a paragraph about Amalek (circa 1200 BCE) to remind us about the upcoming celebration of Purim—a story set some 700 years later (483-473 BCE). As the Midrash explains, the evil Haman is a descendant of Amalek, and this family is our perpetual enemy.
The peace-loving among us hate to think in terms of perpetual conflict. We worry about a national mindset that is too military, and we are concerned that too many of our resources are spent on guns and not butter. Then, a bad guy appears and does terrible things, and I find myself very appreciative of everyone who wears the uniform in defense of our country and our values and our friends. I also give thanks for all the preparations that have gone into our military preparedness.
I mentioned the old joke about Jewish Holidays, “They tried to kill us, God saved us, let’s eat,” but Purim does not fit precisely into this paradigm. According to the story in Esther, God does not save us; we save ourselves! The Book of Esther is a totally human story—without a single mention of God. Our salvation begins with Esther’s courage to go before the king uninvited, and it continues in Jewish self-defense as described in chapters 8 and 9. All throughout the Persian Empire, Jews muster their communities and literally fight the anti-Semites in the streets. As much as we might assume that God is behind the saving acts in the story, Purim celebrates the value of humans solving our own problems and defending ourselves.
We may hate to see the world as a dark place, with enemies lurking at every turn. We may find ourselves hesitating when we pray Hashkivaynu: “Shield us, we pray, against enemies, disease, war, famine, and sorrow, and strengthen us against the evil forces that abound on every side,” preferring to think of the world as a good place, a hopeful place. We may yearn for peace so much that we doubt our fears and think of danger as a thing of the past. But then, facts break through our idyllic visions as we see real evil hurting real people—and not just Jews. Whether the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, the Hutus in Rwanda, Idi Amin’s forces in Uganda, the Serbs in Bosnia, the Buddhists in Myanmar, Al Qaeda and the Taliban and ISIS and Hamas and Hezbollah in the Levant, and now the Russians in Ukraine, the spiritual descendants of Amalek are real and ever dangerous.
We also see how international deterrence is a long-term process, and how many victims fall as the wheels of diplomacy and economic pressure begin to roll. There is no substitute for well-trained troops on the ground, on the sea, and in the air, ready to fight the bad guys. This is a lesson for the United States, for Israel, and for every nation on earth.
As with most challenges, our Tradition counsels a double path. On the one hand, we pray for help from the Divine. “You are a God Who guards and rescues; You are a God who rules with graciousness and compassion, guarding our goings and our comings to life and to wholeness, from this time forth and forever.” (from Hashkivaynu, in the Evening Service) On the other hand, we strive to solve problems ourselves, looking as did Mordecai and Esther for the resources we can muster. Our prayer, then, is that these two hands work together. “Adonai oz l’amo yiten; Adonai yivarech et amo vashalom.” May the Lord give strength to our people. And, may we use our God-given strength to work through danger and toward the blessing of peace.