When my children were younger, I did not allow them to watch The Lion King, the Disney film. It is a shame because it is a charming story and a visually stunning movie, but there was one detail that deeply bothered me: all the hyenas were portrayed as evil. There were good lions and bad lions. Mufasa, who now has a new movie about him, is an example of a good lion—his brother Scar, on the other hand, is the arch-villain who betrays his brother’s trust, has him killed, and seizes the throne. The hyenas were Scar’s main allies, but to my disappointment, there were no hyenas who sided with Mufasa or Simba, nor any who challenged Scar’s most malevolent actions.
I did not allow my children to watch the movie because I feared then, as I fear now, a worldview in which certain groups of people are intrinsically characterised as purely evil. It seems to me that this is where the corrosive seed of prejudice resides. As Jews, we know all too well how it feels to be judged based on our religion or ethnic identity, and throughout history, we have paid an enormous price for other people’s misconceptions of who we are.
If, during the Shoah, Jews were characterised as rats, and during the Rwandan genocide, the Tutsis were labelled cockroaches, then I feared that some group could one day be called hyenas, justifying their elimination.
Eventually, my children grew up, my censorship was lifted, and Mel and I even took my daughter to see The Lion King: The Musical.
At the very end of this week’s parashah, the Israelites are attacked by Amalek. In this week’s reading, we are simply told that the Israelites fought against Amalek at Rephidim and that the course of the battle depended on the position of Moshe’s hands: if they were raised, the Israelites would prevail, but if he became tired and lowered them, the Amalekites would gain the upper hand. Eventually, Yehoshua led the Israelites to victory. God said to Moshe: “Inscribe this in a document as a reminder, and read it aloud to Yehoshua: I will utterly blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven!” [1]
The same episode is recounted in the book of Devarim, parashat Ki Tetzeh. There, we are given additional details about what happened at Rephidim: “Remember what Amalek did to you on your journey after you left Egypt—how, undeterred by fear of God, they surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and cut down all the stragglers at the rear. Therefore, when your God ה׳ grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that your God ה׳ is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!” [2]
You may remember this second passage, as it is read on the Shabbat before Purim, known as Shabbat Zachor, the “Shabbat of Remembrance.” This name reflects the paradox that we are commanded to remember Amalek by blotting out its memory from under heaven.
In attempting to understand why Amalek—of all the peoples who persecuted and attacked the Jews—is the one whose memory we are commanded to erase, some commentators highlight the cowardice of attacking a group of former slaves who were exhausted from their journey, ambushing them from behind, and slaughtering the poor, the innocent, and the weak. Moreover, the people of Israel were not even passing through Amalekite territory; Amalek had to cross the lands of five other nations to attack them. [3]
Nechama Leibowitz, one of the most influential biblical commentators in the early decades of the State of Israel, wrote about this episode: “Where the fear of God is lacking, the stranger who is homeless in a foreign land is liable to be murdered.” [4]
When the Israelites conquered the land, they were commanded to completely wipe out Amalek, and King Shaul lost the crown for failing to do so. King David also waged war against the Amalekites but did not succeed in eradicating them completely. I confess I find it deeply troubling even to write and say these words—recognising that our religious tradition includes an instruction to completely eliminate another people. For those who, like me, feel unsettled by this story, I return to my drashah from last Shabbat morning, in which I argued that sometimes we need to say “No!” — even to God.
Amalek, then, became the archetype of pure evil in Jewish tradition. Haman, the villain of the Purim story, is traditionally considered a descendant of Amalek. Many would say that Hitler was a descendant of Amalek, and it is difficult to refute the idea that these two figures really embodied absolute evil.
The traditional Jewish position, established centuries ago, is that ancient nations can no longer be identified, and therefore, there is no longer any Amalek. Yet this has not prevented people from manipulating the concept for political ends. [5] Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman accused all Jewish members of the Jewish section of the Soviet Communist Party of being part of the “seed of Amalek.” Israeli politicians and extremists have labelled Yasser Arafat — and sometimes even the entire Palestinian people — as Amalek. Rabbi Ovadia Yosef z”l, perhaps the most important Sephardic rabbi in the history of the State of Israel, once called Yossi Sarid z”l — a leader of Meretz and a former Minister of Education with whom he disagreed politically—a “seed of Amalek.” Rabbi Shalom Cohen even referred to the entire Modern Orthodox community as “seed of Amalek” during the elections for Israel’s Chief Rabbi. [6]
As I said, the mere possibility that a person or a group of people could be the incarnation of absolute evil has caused immense suffering and destruction in our world. It is time to truly blot out the memory of the concept of Amalek and to completely remove this paradigm from our consciousness.
Shabbat Shalom.
[1] Ex. 17:14
[2] Deut. 25:17-19
[3] A Torah Commentary for Our Times, Volume II: Exodus/Leviticus, p. 39-31
[4] Studies in Devraim, p. 253
[5] https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2023/11/benjamin-netanyahu-amalek-israel-palestine-gaza-saul-samuel-old-testament/
[6] https://he.wikipedia.org/wiki/עמלק#עמלק_כסמל
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