On the Shabbat the day before the tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001, we read Parashat Ki Tetze. It opens: "When you go out to war upon your enemies..." (Deuteronomy 21:10). It concludes:
Remember that which Amalek did you along the way, when you went out from Egypt: he came upon you along the way, cut down all the stragglers at your rear, and you were tired and worn out -- not fearing God. And it shall be: when Adonai your God gives you rest from all your enemies all around, in the land that Adonai your God is giving you as a hereditary portion, blot out the memory of Amalek from under the heavens. Do not forget! (Deut. 25:17-19)
The ta'amei hamikra -- the trope, the notes that tell us how to chant the Torah -- tell their own story about how painful it is to look back even from a distance at a terrible crime. The Torah reading is almost without rhythm, out of step, as it tells how in the future to deal with the memory.
So the first word Zachor -- "Remember" -- is given a long note, as if to say how hard it is to summon the actual memory. (Click on them to hear how they sound chanted.) The next word in Hebrew, et , is a word without any content, and yet it also gets a long note. Then, as the attack on the Israelites by Amalek is recounted, the words just rush out. Many, long words are compressed into the cantillation normally used for just a few. Hard letters, gutterals and stops. Then a deep breath, and drawn out: V'haya, "and it shall be, in the future"...and the strange command. To blot out the memory of Amalek, yet never to forget what they did.
We need to remember, and want to forget. We recall in detail -- what we say, where we were -- and are ashamed when we realize that the images that transfixed us on TV were the dying moments of three thousand people. We want the revenge, to blot out Bin Laden and his followers, and also to have rest from all our enemies. We want to deny al-Qaeda the dignity of even being known. Yet we have to tell the story, if we are to have any hope of building a world that will be without them forever.
Are we doing justice to the memory of those who died, on September 11 and in the wars since then? Are we changed, as people or Jews, as Americans or free people? These are the questions to remember, even as we return to the first moments in our memories. My own answers I will give in shul this Shabbat.
Shabbat Shalom -- May it be a Shabbat of peace, as we recall that day of war.
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