This week I had the experience of doubt. I had to make a big decision, and I kept coming to a certain conclusion and then doubting it and questioning it, giving me a sinking, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. But wait, the doubt kept saying. What if you are making a terrible mistake? Maybe the other way is better? I noticed how corrosive the doubt was. When I was under its attack, I was restless and distracted, unable to focus or be present to what was going on around me, unable to engage in the precious moments of right now with full heart and passion, trapped in a wearying, immobilizing loop in my brain.
This Shabbat before Purim we remember Amalek, the eternal enemy of God and the Jewish people. It is often noted that the gematria, the Hebrew numerical value, of the name Amalek, is the same as the gematria of the word safek, doubt. Amalek stands for doubt, the gnawing unsureness that robs us of the ability to act with strength and whole-heartedness.
The Torah says that Amalek attacked us while we were weak and exhausted, in a period of transition out of slavery, on the beginning of a path, baderekh. That is how doubt operates. It comes at us when we are in some transition, not yet secure and confident of our path. The people of Israel finally screwed up the courage and faith to make a change and leave Egypt, a very difficult thing to do, but they took the leap of faith, and then, just as they are beginning to walk on their toddler legs of faith, boom, Amalek attacks; they are hit with doubt. Yes, God saved us from Egypt and we should follow Him, but what is happening now with this other nation attacking us? Maybe He has abandoned us? Maybe that Egypt thing was just an accident? Just at the beginning of any path, when we are still not sure of ourselves, that is when doubt strikes.
And when it strikes, it has a cooling off power. The rabbis read the Torah’s term for Amalek’s approach, asher korkha baderekh, literally, “who happened upon you on the way” as related to the word kor, cold. What Amalek did was throw cold water on the people’s enthusiasm for this God project. Whatever fervor and trust they had built for this path was dampened; they became that much less clear and whole-hearted. We can feel how that happens to us. We have some grand beautiful scheme, some pie in the sky belief, and then someone comes along, or our own doubt comes along, and begins to poke holes in it, to doubt, to question, to be skeptical. Afterwards, even if we continue on that path, we are cooled down; we are missing the spark and the excitement. That is what doubt does.
The Purim story, too, includes the theme of doubt. In a pivotal scene of the Megillah in chapter four, Mordecai sends Esther a message that she should approach the king to advocate for her people. What is her reaction? DOUBT. She doesn’t disagree with him. She is just worried, doubting whether she can be successful in the venture given the normal workings of the kingship. Mordecai replies with sureness that can only come from total faith. He has no doubts. He knows that God will make certain things happen. It is just a question of through whom. And so, in the face of this sureness, this confidence, this faith, Esther agrees to approach the king. But she asks for one other thing — that all the people fast with her for three days; if she is going to do this despite her doubt, she needs support; she needs to feel the strength of the community’s faith and resolve.
The people’s battle with Amalek and our own struggles with doubt, are never easy. When the people are first attacked by Amalek, they actually begin to lose. Doubt is strong. It wends its way into our hearts and weakens us. What finally turns the battle around are Mohe’s upraised hands, a symbol of faith in the heavens above, of a power beyond the realistic doubts of this world.
This Shabbat, when we remember Amalek, we can also acknowledge our own struggles with doubt, and, like Esther and Moshe, gird ourselves with faith and trust to continue on the path ahead of us.
