Amalek and the Necessity to Name Evil

Shabbat Zakhor

Hi friends, Just getting back home from travels in Israel and Italy! I’m looking forward to sharing more soon and appreciate your patience with this week’s essay. Wishing you an early Shabbat Shalom!– Mijal

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The worst mistake Israel made before October 7th wasn’t a failure of intelligence—it was a failure of imagination.

This has been one of the most painful realizations as findings from probes into the attack have been released to the Israeli public this last week. The IDF had warnings. The political echelon was told an attack was imminent. Hamas operatives were moving suspiciously. But too many Israeli leaders were trapped in their own assumptions, convinced Hamas was too comfortable in its rule or too afraid of Israel to risk all-out war. They believed Hamas wouldn’t act irrationally, that it wouldn’t sacrifice itself just to massacre Jews.

That assumption—the failure to take Hamas at its word—was catastrophically wrong.

Far too many in the West are still caught in this same failure of imagination, convinced all conflicts can be resolved through dialogue, unable to grasp that some clashes brook no compromise.

We are now in a season of special Shabbatot, weeks when each Torah portion comes with an additional reading. This week, in addition to Tetzaveh (which details the priestly garments and the Mishkan), we read a passage from Deuteronomy. Unlike the weekly Torah reading, which is a mitzvah to hear, this reading is obligatory.

It begins with a single word: Zakhor—remember.

It is a commandment from Moses to the Israelites: Remember what Amalek did to you when you left Egypt. A paradoxical command—to remember, and at the same time, to erase the name of Amalek from existence.

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The Torah tells us that Amalek attacked Israel just as they were leaving Egypt. Amalek preyed on the weakest: the elderly, the children, those at the rear of the camp.

Even the Egyptians, who enslaved the Israelites for centuries, do not carry the same symbolic weight as Amalek. Their hatred was transactional—they sought wealth and labor. Amalek, by contrast, represents the kind of Jew-hatred that cannot be explained. Zakhor commands us to remember that there will always be enemies who cannot be reasoned with. Enemies who will burn themselves to the ground if it means taking Jews with them.

Amalek resurfaces throughout Jewish history. Most famously, it appears in the Purim story, where Haman—described as an Aggagite, a descendant of Amalek—seeks to annihilate the Jews. This is why we read Zakhor, about Amalek, the Shabbat before Purim.

The biblical commandment regarding Amalek is severe—we are meant to erase Amalek and kill its people. This is the Bible’s “baby Hitler” scenario: Amalek is irredeemably evil.

This commandment evolved. Already in Talmudic times, the sages ruled that since the Assyrian king Sennacherib had scrambled the nations, Amalek could no longer be identified. This was a profound shift—from a genealogical to an ideological Amalek. Amalek is not about ancestry—it is a force that recurs throughout history.

And so while the Torah’s command to destroy Amalek no longer applies to an entire nation, the injunction of Zakhor remains urgent: Every generation will have disciples of Amalek. They do not seek compromise, nor can they be appeased. They must be fought and defeated. Fighting Amalek is not about vengeance—it is about survival.

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Israelis, by and large, already grasp this reality.

This last Shabbat, I joined a weekly gathering in Jerusalem advocating for the hostages. After songs and prayers, an organizer emphasized the absolute imperative of bringing them home, even with a costly political deal. But then he added (my paraphrase): This commitment cannot come at the cost of allowing Amalek—the Hamas stronghold in Gaza—to remain a threat.

I was struck by how naturally this crowd—many of whom lean left—nodded in agreement.

But in America? I’ve been troubled by something else.

I don’t mean that American Jews need to recognize that Hamas is ideologically Amalek—I think most already do. I mean something deeper: the way we react to antisemitism in America.

I’ve been unsettled by some of the indignation I’ve seen on social media lately—not because the outrage isn’t justified, but because it reveals a sense of surprise. As if we still believe that if we just explain our case well enough, those who really hate us will stop.

"Look at what’s happening to us."
"Let me ask you again: Check on your Jewish friends."
"If we were X minority group, you’d act differently."

I don’t mean to say that fighting antisemitism is pointless or that we should stop mobilizing broad coalitions or that everyone we call out on social media is Amalek(!). There is much we can do, many allies to engage, and many people in the middle who must be engaged as partners to fight hate.

But we need to stop being surprised. Some people hate Jews for reasons that are not rational and will not be swayed by moral arguments or historical education.

This is not new. It has always been the case.

So while we must continue fighting antisemitism, we must also stop being surprised by it.

Zakhor—remember.