Parashat Ki Teitze - Remember to Remember

BS”D
The Ba’al Shem Tov says: Forgetting is the beginning of Exile; Remembering is the beginning of Redemption.

This week’s Parasha ends with two Mitzvot – seemingly unconnected. And one is seemingly “minor”, the other is seen as so important that it is given its own special day in the calendar – Shabbat Zachor.

Prior to the commandment regarding remembering and forgetting Amalek, with which the Parasha closes, there is an admonition to have just weights and measures. There is an obvious social justice aspect to this Mitzvah, as to many of the other Mitzvot that are listed in this Parasha. Within the context of the Parasha, the theme of Weights and Measures appears to link to the overall theme of building a just society. Is there, perhaps, something more going on?

Of all the themes running through the Parasha, perhaps the most striking is that of marriage and divorce. There are five significant fact patterns laid out in the Parasha all having to do with marriage and divorce. Indeed, the Parasha opens with the case of a woman taken captive (21:11). She is described as ‘eshet yifat toar – “A woman beautiful of form.”

Both Sarah and Rivkah are described as yifat mar’eh – “beautiful to look at.” Rachel is described as yifat toar ve-yifat mar’eh. Echoing this language, Yosef rushes headlong to how downfall, at the hands of Potifar’s wife, after being described as yefeh to’ar viyfeh mar’eh – the same terms as are applied to his own mother – herself a manipulator and the child of a manipulator.

The echoes to the Avot and Imahot are not mere accidents of the limitations of the Hebrew vocabulary. The first case in this week’s Parasha is one of appetite, of lust: a man sees an attractive woman, over whom he exercises the power of life and death. Will she marry him? Perhaps most would, rather than risk being executed. Once having enjoyed the fruits of his conquest, though, the man spurns her.

A man has taken a foreign slave to wife. And later he spurns her. Yet, he can not sell her for money. And so he merely sends her on her way. Because, says the Torah, asher ‘initah – “because you raped her,” or, “because you afflicted her.”

The first person described in Torah with the verb signifying rape or affliction is Hagar, of whom the Torah says that Sarah ve-ta’aneha –“and she afflicted her.” Hagar, a foreign slave, is not sold for money, but is sent out into the wilderness. Set free, as it were, even if shetakes nothing of value with her.

The second case, brought immediately on the heels of this, is of a man who has married two wives: one beloved, one hated. This is the image of Yaakov, who loved Rachel and hated Leah. Further, the Halacha brought in this section goes to the rights of the firstborn, which Yaakov famously violated.

Chapter 22, starting at verse 13, discusses the case of motzi shem ra’ – a man who spreads a malicious tale that his wife was not a virgin. The Torah treats of how to handle this matter, both if it is true, and if it is false.

Chapter 24 starts with the example of a man who marries a woman, then divorces her because matza bah ‘ervat davar –“he found in her some immoral matter.” She goes forth and remarries, and her second husband then either divorces her, out of mere personal dislike, or dies. The first husband is not permitted to remarry her.

Finally, there are a series of scenarios dealing with variations on the theme of a man and woman having illicit sex, and the consequences tied to each permutation.

Why does the Torah make a literary reference to the families of Abraham and Sarah, of Yaakov and his wives and children? And how does this tie to Amalek?

The entire Book of Genesis, starting from Lech Lecha, is one long soap opera. The grand and petty passions, attachments, the fury and longing, the sorrow and bitter determination for success – these are all legitimate elements of melodrama. It is the literary genius of the Torah that they are laid on with so deft a hand as to be barely noticeable. Yet, the emotional impact of reading TaNaCh as a novel is very real. Viewed from the perspective of narrative, of character development and conflict, TaNaCh is a real potboiler. The philosophical and moral effect of this is to keep us reminded of Where We Came From, of Who We Are.

And of Who We Are Not.
We are not Mizraim – the people Abraham feared because of Sarah’s beauty. We are not the people who grab what they see, who act purely on appetite.

And yet, when faced with a difficult family situation, Abraham did not stand firm, did not protect his own son, but cast Yishmael out into the wilderness along with his mother, perhaps to die.

At the end of Abraham’s life, he marries a woman named Keturah, about whom nothing is known, save who her descendants are. The Midrash says that Keturah is Hagar, and that Abraham reconciled with her (some say it was Yitzhak who brought about the reconciliation) and remarried her.

And so the themes underlying this week’s Parasha begin to emerge.

There is a discussion in the Gemara about what should consistute grounds for divorce. The winning position is that of Rabbi Akiva, who says that a man may divorce his wife for no reason whatsoever. This is both a clear understanding of human nature – people act out of emotion; the “reasons” are often derived backwards as justifications; how much better to make us face our own acts directly! – as well as an acknowledgement that, if a reason had to be given for a divorce, it would forever serve as a reason for the woman no longer to be marriageable. If “he divorced her because she didn’t do…” or “because she did…” why, no man would want to marry such a woman, no matter what the complaint. But a woman who was once bound in marriage and is now back on the market…? Let’s face reality: the single greatest factor that men find attractive in women is: Availability.

And after she has become available to a man, and after the man has acted out his desire, the allure of distance no longer applies. How common is it to wish to discard something that no longer tempts us?

The Torah recognizes the need to protect women from the vagaries of the male-dominated society. Indeed, it attempts to run a broad gamut of scenarios to cover many contingencies.

The Eternal Torah – G-d’s Torah – contains all. All wisdom, all knowledge. But the Torah – our Torah, a book written in human language for human consumption (or, as some would say: written by humans, for humans) – can not possibly touch on every iteration of human existence. Which is why we have the Halacha, the living aspect of Torah that keeps pace with our lives, that keeps us in communication with G-d.

And what does the Halacha teach us?

Chapter 25, starting at verse 13: “Do not have two stones in your pocket: a large one and a small one. Do not have in your house two measures: a large one and a small one.” ‘even shelemah va-tzedek yehiyeh lach; eifah shelemah va-tzedek yehiyeh lach – “You shall have a full and just weighing-stone; you shall have a full and just measure.” The Torah’s concept of Justice includes the notion of Completeness.

The Torah’s concept of Justice also includes direct acknowledgement that G-d rules the universe: Bereshit 15:6: “And [Abram] trusted in G-d, and G-d counted to him Justice [tzedakah]”

And the Torah’s concept of justice includes a fundamental notion of fairness. Bereshit 18, starting at verse 17, presents an astonishing piece, so easy to overlook because it is so small. Yet, this is the only place in Torah (Chevra, correct me if I’m wrong here, please!) where G-d soliloquizes. It is a Shakespearean internal monologue in miniature, fraught with no less inner conflict than anything that has strutted and fretted it hour upon the stage.

Freely translating: “And G-d said: am I actually going to conceal from Abraham what I am about to do? Since Abraham is certainly going to become a great and mighty nation, and all nations of the world will bless through him? Since I know him so intimately, and that he will command his children and his household after him, and they will keep the way of G-d, to do Justice [tzedakah] and Right Judgment [mishpat], so that I, G-d, may bring upon Abraham that which I told him?”

The word tzedakah, by the way, appears three times in Chumash: these two instances regarding Abraham, and then in our Parasha.

How closely, then, is the Abraham narrative tied to this week’s Parasha! The images and literary references float on the surface, yet also form the undercurrent.

What is a Just Weight, a Just Measure?

The Torah commands us not to carry two different weights in our pocket; not to keep two different measures in our house.

When we are out in the world, we perforce accept the standards of society. When we sit in Shul, we daven with visible Kevanah, we are on best behavior, we are well thought of.

Reb Yonason Eybschutz tells the story of davening in a shul on Kippur. At Kal Nidrei, he was impressed to hear one of the men davening with powerful emotion, smiting his breast and sobbing “Ani ke-efar va-efer…” – “I am like dust and ashes…” (NB: also courtesy of Abraham!) The next day, on Yom Kippur, this same congregant became enraged during an argument over who got an Aliyah. In the middle of the davening, he screamed insults at the Gabbai. Later, Reb Yonason went over to him and said, “Reb Yid, I heard you davening last night Kol Nidrei – you had such Kevana – such hergish – so much feeling, saying how you were dust and ashes. So how come today you become so enraged over an Aliyah?” The man answered, “Compared to Ha-Kadosh Baruch-Hu, I’m afar ve-efer. But compared to this shammas?!”

Azoy.

In our secret times and places – in our pocket, in our house – in our real and private view of the world, we judge the world by our own standards. I see a woman who excites me; I have a certain power over her – good so. I take advantage of that power and act out my desire. I marry a woman who does not live up to my every expectation – shall I compromise? No! Better to dispose of her.

In public, we make our way through the life of our society by acting the role of a Pillar of the Community. And yet, how often, in private, do we disdain the very values and people we so strongly uphold in the eyes of others?

The world is not given to us to take great bites from, then discard like, like a fruit. The world depends so much, so very, very much on each of us accepting responsibility for balance.

Keep one single measure for both your public and private self. Do not appear to live by the world’s standard, all the while despising the world for the very behavior that you put on in order to get by.

The Gemara in Sukkah, and in Shabbat, for example, has extensive sections that discuss measurements. Heights of walls, what constitutes a wall, what a surface that qualifies as a separate domain. The underlying principle of measurements is that they are all Halacha le-Moshe mi-Sinai – they are a part of the Oral Law as expounded by G-d to Moshe. They are not relative, not even to one another.

Moral standards, Halachic standards, religious standards, social values – all of these, too, are not relative. As Abraham accepted the structure of the universe – with G-d at the pinnacle – so should we. The Torah recognizes human nature, and does not chide us for being prone to conflict. It takes us to task, though, when we consistently resolve the conflict in our own favor.

It is our nature to let ourselves slip below our own standards. It is also our nature to be dissatisfied with ourselves because we have slipped below our standards. The Torah is the champion of our Better Nature.

“Remember that which Amalek did to you on the road, when you were leaving Mizraim.” Because, when we are safe, when we are in positions of influence, when we have the illusion of being in control of our lives, we tend to believe that nothing bad can happen to us. “That was the past,” we say. “Things are different now.”

That’s what we say.

We apply our own measure, our own imperfectly-weighted stone to the equation. When the scales do not balance, we adamantly state that there must be something wrong with the scale itself. After all, we know.

The cantillation of the final two words of today’s Parasha leaves open two possible readings. “You shall not forget,” is the traditional understanding of this clause. We are being commanded to scrape off Amalek’s name from the Earth (The Hebrew word timcheh is often translated as “blot”, meaning to cover over or make illegible, but it means “to scrape off”, thus, Amalek is not “covered over and smudged,” but is removed from the page, as though he had never been there at all.) we are commanded to actively forget – to never stop forgetting Amalek. “Do not forget”, says the Torah – “do not forget to forget.”

One may read these last two words differently, however. “No; you shall forget.”

Freely re-translating the last few Psukim (starting at 19): “Do you mean to tell me that, once G-d has made your enemies stop troubling you from all around the Land that G-d is giving to you, for you to take possession of as an inheritance, that you will completely erase the memory of Amalek from under the heavens? No! You will forget!”

Don’t weigh with your own stone. Don’t rely on the illusory present situation. Once you are at safety, and in the Land, don’t think for a moment that you can scrape off Amalek’s name from the page, for in doing so, you will surely forget your history. You will surely forget that enemies surround us, you will surely forget what you had to go through to come to this moment. You will fall victim to the illusion that This Moment is eternal. That nothing can shake or assail us. That our own desires are more important than anyone else’s. That we are masters of our lives, free to take what we want, when we want, from whom we want.

That there are no consequences. Forgetting, says the Ba’al Shem Tov, is the beginning of Exile. Which is why the Torah goes through the tortuous wordplay of the final section: Remember to remember to forget, and do not forget.

Remembering, says the Ba’al Shem Tov, is the beginning of Redemption.

And, if we are willing to alter the Torah by excision of Amalek’s name, what else will we choose to erase?

Yours for a better world.