“Memory, the warder of the brain.”
- William Shakespeare
We are wondrous creatures in that we embody so many seeming contradictions with such ease. We are both soul and flesh, corporeal and spirit. We are defined by our sense of self, by our individuality, by the “I”. Yet, we are lost unless that “I” also exists as a “we”, unless we exist not just in the singular but in the plural. We have the instincts of the brutes of the field, but we are also possessive of the ability to rise to the highest levels of charity and grace.
In the same way, each of us is granted at birth two most precious – and seemingly contradictory – gifts, memory and forgetfulness. The poets philosophers are of a more uniform voice when it comes to memory. Aeschylus, in Prometheus Bound writes that, “Memory is the mother of all wisdom.” Oscar Wilde called memory “…the diary that we all carry about with us.”
Memory.
We do not exist without memory. Santayana famously claimed that, “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to fulfill it.”
Who am I as an individual if not the sum of my experiences, my memories? Anyone who has ever visited or cared for an Alzheimer’s patient knows only too well what happens to the “self” when memories are gone. In a very significant way, we cease to be if not for our memories.
Memory. The most gracious of gifts.
Or is it?
As much as memory is the cornerstone upon which our “self” is built; as much as it frustrates us to “lose” a name, or where we left our car keys; as much as we covet the gift of true memory, we are wise enough to realize that if we truly remembered everything we would cease to be able to function.
As much as we need to remember, we also need to forget.
If we really remembered everything, we would not be able to survive the memories of our early pains, our past humiliations, yesterday’s insults and the embarrassments of our “trial and error” path through life.
It is a blessing to remember.
It is an equal blessing to forget.
As in everything contradiction that we embody, the difficulty is in finding the meaningful balance between these two blessings, to find the perfect balance between all we want and need to remember and all we want and need to forget. There are times when we remember more than we care to. There are other times when we forget more than we should; times when we remember less than we desire, and forget less than we’d like.
The poet was on point when he wrote, “This world would be for us a happier place and there would be less regretting if we would remember to practice with grace the very fine art of forgetting.”
Would that it was! But that is the impetuous nature of these gifts; they are near impossible to control. Adjusting them to the exact needs of the moment is often frustrating. Our memories seem to take perverse pleasure in playing tricks on their “proud” owners – at the very instant that we are convinced that we remember, we forget. Even more painful, when we so desperately want to forget, we find ourselves unable to shake ourselves of the most vivid of memories.
Given the importance of memory and forgetfulness is our lives, it is small wonder that the Torah speaks to both.
Torah relates four events that are always to be remembered.
- The Revelation at Sinai must always be recalled and personally renewed. Sinai is both a personal and a communal memory. However, its communal significance evaporates into history without renewed personal relevance and meaning.
- The punishment inflicted upon Miriam for speaking ill of her brother must forever be remembered. In this instance, our recall helps us to guard our tongues against the most insidious of communal crimes, the crime of evil talk. This memory impels us to us our speech to uplift rather than destroy.
- We are to remember the Sabbath. The apotheosis of the week is the Sabbath. Our weekly activities are, in fact, activities that drive us toward the Sabbath. We work for the Sabbath. We live for the Sabbath. When we remember Shabbat on Monday and Wednesday, we remember God, creation, revelation, the exodus from Egypt… all that is holy. Thus, throughout the week, we declare that each day is the first, or second, or third day towards the Sabbath. We remember!
- Finally, we remember Amalek. Not just Amalek, the evil king, but Amalek, the evil impulse within each human being.
With these four explicit commands to remember, the Torah emphasizes the importance of memory to our individual and communal character. However, the Torah is also cognizant that remembering is not always fully developed or refined. Sometimes we simply can’t remember.
Sometimes the gift of forgetfulness dominates the gift of memory! Then what?
Too often, remembering seems to exist in opposition to forgetting. But the Torah’s goal in remembering is not simply establishing an absence of forgetfulness. The Torah never seeks the absence of something, rather the fullness of something.
The Torah asks for an active state of memory through an act or a personal effort of memory. Truly recalling Sinai demands a reliving of the event. Remembering Sinai can only be accomplished through personal participation in Torah learning.
To remember Miriam’s transgression some have ordained that the verse detailing Miriam’s punishment be recited daily after praying. The Ari noted that in reciting the words L’hodot l’cha prior to the Sh’ma, one should recall that one’s mouth was created not only to praise, but also to refrain from lashon hara. In doing so, he actively recalls that which occurred to Miriam.
Remembering the Sabbath calls for a daily declaration that today is the first or fourth day towards the Sabbath. Or, on the weekdays if one acquired food or other goods that would be appropriate or befitting for Shabbat, a declaration should be verbalized – lich’vod Shabbat, “in honor of the Sabbath.”
When asking us to remember, the Torah does not rely on the whims and fragility of our not-always-reliable gift of memory. Rather, the Torah seeks active reinforcement, lest we forget. Active forgetfulness is harder to achieve than passive remembering.
At the end of the parasha, before we are taught to recall the evil of Amalek, the Torah sets the uncompromising standards of just and perfect weights and measures. What is the connection? Rashi notes that “if you use false weights and measures, then you must anticipate the provocation of the enemy.” In other words, one can’t simply preach, teach, or recall that one’s evil impulse and desire must be overcome. Passivity is no match for our inner Amalek. Rather, he teaches, more than just remembering through the absence of forgetfulness, one must act and react, with honesty, integrity, with perfect and just weights and measures. When one forgets [ceases to remember!] basic ethics, morality, and decency, Amalek remembers. Amalek always remembers. But when one’s life is synonymous with truth, fairness, and integrity, one’s life memory stands opposed to Amalek and his threat.
A reporter once asked the great Speaker of the House, Sam Rayburn, “Mr. Speaker, you see at least one hundred people a day. You tell each one ‘yes,’ or `no.’ You never seem to make notes on what you have told them, but I have never heard of your forgetting anything you have promised them. What is your secret?”
Rayburn’s brown eyes flashed: “If you tell the truth the first time,” he replied, “you don’t have to remember.”
