One of the primary characteristics of Amalek is that they attack hanekheshalim aharekha, “those who are weak in your rear.” They attack the weak and the vulnerable.
We feel intuitively how wrong this is, and we understand that a society should be measured by how kindly it treats its weakest members. I want to take this idea a step further, and think not just on the level of society, but also on the level of the individual and each of our own internal struggles. How do we treat the weakest, most vulnerable parts of ourselves?
Let’s say you are in a situation that makes you feel inadequate in some way – not smart enough, not organized or competent enough, not assertive enough, not attentive enough, too awkward, too loud, whatever your trigger is – how do you react? If you are like most of us, you attack that part of you. Another part of you starts saying things like: “What did you do that for?” “You’re such an idiot!” “You’re always so awkward!” “That’s pathetic!” and so on.
Essentially, we act like Amalek inside of us. We attack those very parts of us that are weakest and most vulnerable. We attack the parts of us that we are not proud of, that hide in the back, our personal places of imperfection, incompetence and disability.
This is not a question of improvement. Yes, it is good to improve and strive and become better at the things we are not great at. But attacking does not help that project, and probably hinders it.
What is the alternative? Kindness. The Torah often speaks about being kind to the stranger, the orphan, the widow, the Levite, the poor or anyone else who has reason to be underprivileged. These needy among us are not to be mistreated or attacked but to be given love and generosity and kindness. Imagine what this looks like internally, to turn to the places inside us that are most needy and vulnerable, most incompetent and shameful, to turn to those very places with kindness, to imagine that these parts of us are like little neglected orphans in need of love. Imagine how, under such care, these orphans might relax after all those years of harsh treatment, and maybe even turn out to have a special shine of their own.
The pasuk that comes to mind is from Hallel: Even ma’asu habonim, hayta lerosh pinah. “The stone that was rejected by the builders has become the chief cornerstone (Psalm 118:22).” A miraculous transformation has occurred; the very parts that seem most unworthy — the parts that we are most apt to reject about ourselves — have turned into “cornerstones,” essential, foundational elements that we rely on for further building and growth. It turns out that if we stop rejecting them, they are our pillars.
This Shabbat we remember “what Amalek did” and are bidden to strive to eradicate Amalek entirely. We look around the world with all its problems and evil and suffering and we feel overwhelmed by the impossibility of the fight for the good. Perhaps the fight against Amalek in the world begins inside, begins by learning to turn towards our most vulnerable parts, not as Amalek did, with hatred and a desire to attack, but instead with love and compassion. Who knows which rejected parts of us are the cornerstones to redemption, not just for ourselves but also for the world?
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