In this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Ki Teitzei, we are confronted with two starkly different commands regarding foreign nations. On one hand, the Torah commands us not to abhor the Egyptian, “because you were a stranger in his land.” On the other, it delivers a severe, uncompromising directive: remember what Amalek did to you on the way out of Egypt, and blot out their memory from under the heavens. Do not forget.
Why the distinction? Why urge empathy toward an empire that enslaved us, while demanding eternal vigilance against Amalek?
The late Rabbi Jonathan Sacks offered a brilliant analysis of this dichotomy by distinguishing between rational and irrational hostility.
The Egyptians’ fear of the Israelites was, historically speaking, rational—even if entirely unjustified. Egypt had previously suffered a traumatizing invasion by the Hyksos, foreign rulers who seized control of the Nile Delta. When the Hebrew population grew rapidly, Egyptian authorities feared a similar demographic takeover. They were wrong—the Israelites had no desire to rule Egypt and wanted nothing more than to leave—but their fear was rooted in a tangible, geopolitical anxiety. And because rational emotion has a cause, it can theoretically be reasoned with, disproved, or cured. Once Israel left, the fear lost its logic.
Amalek was something entirely different. They didn’t attack out of fear, territory, or self-defense. They struck when Israel was “weary and worn out,” intentionally targeting the stragglers at the rear—the weak, the elderly, and the exhausted. Those lagging behind posed no military threat to anyone.
This was groundless, irrational hatred. Hate for the sake of hate. Amalek hated the Israelites simply because they existed.
Amalek is the archetype of classical antisemitism. Unlike rational conflicts over land, resources, or power, antisemitism defies logic. It adapts to whatever ideology is convenient: in one century, Jews are targeted for being poor outsiders; in the next, for being wealthy insiders. They are hated for being too religious, or too secular; too communist, or too capitalist. Because irrational hatred has no root cause, it cannot be cured by logical debate or political concessions. It is persistent, durable, and lasts “for all generations.”
So how do you confront an hatred that refuses to be reasoned with?
It is not solved by passing stricter laws alone, nor by endless public campaigns begging for tolerance. You cannot demand respect from others if you do not possess it yourself.
The late Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin famously rejected the passive posture of the exile—the image of the helpless, apologetic “Jew with trembling knees.” Begin understood that seeking validation from those who harbor irrational malice is a trap. When you apologize for your own existence, you feed the predator’s instinct.
To stand up to Amalek—who is alive and well in the modern world—requires a fundamental shift in posture. It demands self-respect, cultivated on both an individual and a collective level.
On an individual level, self-respect means knowing who you are, taking pride in your heritage, and refusing to internalize the prejudices of others. It means standing tall in your identity rather than shrinking to make others comfortable.
On a national and collective level, self-respect means asserting the right to self-defense, maintaining absolute moral clarity, and refusing to play the role of the perpetual victim. A nation that respects itself does not seek permission to survive. It builds strength, fosters unity, and protects its vulnerable.
Amalek targets the weak and the stragglers. The ultimate counter-offensive against groundless hate is not to debate the hater, but to eliminate internal weakness—to replace self-doubt with unshakeable pride, and passive vulnerability with active strength.
We cannot always control the presence of irrational hate in the world. But we can decide whether we face it with trembling knees or with the posture of a free, self-respecting people who know exactly who they are.
Moments of Clarity 