Rabbi Judith Abrams (z’’l) tells the story of a time when she was in a kosher restaurant. After paying her bill, she took the leftover change and put it into the pushke, the box designated for tzedakah. A man behind her scolded her saying, “You put the tsedakah in with your left hand and that’s not correct. You should give tsedakah from your right hand.” Admittedly, this was a very small bit of bullying, but he was attempting to push her around using his knowledge. She let it go, rather than demanding he provide a source for his claim, or reminding him that giving is a good thing, whichever hand it comes from.

We cannot and do not always let things go. At the end of our Torah portion we heard that we are commanded to “remember Amalek and not forget to blot out his name.” Who was this Amalek and what did he do that was so vile, so horrible, so awful, that we, the people of memory, are to forget him?

Amalek was the grandson of Esau and retained his grandfather’s hatred of the descendants of Jacob. Amalek’s followers, the Amalekites, were the first foe Israel encountered after escaping from slavery. Amalek and his army attacked us from behind when we were at our weakest. This cowardly act was all it took. Amalek emerges as the original super villain in our story. Although we had already encountered Pharaohs, Kings, and various tyrants, Amalek emerges as the most significant villain. And for the enemies that followed, all are said to have descended from him. The Rabbis draw a line from Pharaoh, Haman, and even modern foes like Hitler, back to Amalek.

We get it, Amalek is bad. Our obligation to blot out Amalek, even in our times though, is a tricky one. Who is Amalek? The leader of a terrorist organization bent on killing Jews? An antisemitic politician whose policies put us at risk? That guy who cut me off in traffic when I was running late to my doctor?

I myself am deeply uncomfortable with making those determinations. As humans, we have also amassed a rather poor record on that same thing. Whenever and however we have decided that a person or persons should be eliminated it has been marked by mistakes, inequity, tragedy, and pain. How many murders or massacres have been done by people convinced they were not only right, but doing a service to the world?

There is a different approach we can take to Amalek. Amalek was unscrupulous, tryrranical, and cruel. He was in other words, a bully. While the Torah is insistent that we blot out Amalek, it is equally firm on the opposition to bullying.

In Judaism, bullying is not only a physical act, although all are based on strength and domination, or at least an idea of strength. While many bullies use their might to coerce others, our tradition teaches that true strength comes from somewhere else. In Avot, we are asked, “Who is strong?” The rabbis tell us that the strong person is one who conquers their own evil drives.” The true strength is not in using, but in holding oneself back from using.
An illustration of this comes from Moses’ interaction with the two men fighting. The text refers to the man about to hit the other as rasha, wicked. He had not even struck him, but the threat, the raising of his hand was enough intimidation to earn Moses’ rebuke. Physical violence as a means of bullying does not even need the contact to be problematic.

Our tradition also views verbal and financial oppression as gravely bad. And while financial bullying or oppression can destroy a person, their family, or a whole community, the use of verbal threats is even worse, say the Rabbis. Verbal threats are personal. Verbal threats cannot be undone or taken back. Even when it is not a threat, but harsh or demeaning words used to intimidate or oppress someone, it is still bullying. The Talmud demands a stiff Divine punishment for someone who publicly embarrasses another person in public or who calls someone a derogatory nickname.

Despite our rejection of bullying, despite our sense that power is not about how many people or how thoroughly one can dominate, much of the world still worships power and those who wield it with impunity.

This does not have to be the way of the world, though. Among our mitzvot is the command that we shall not stand idly by. We are not to remain silent in the face of harassment and coercion. Speaking out not only pushes back against the offender, but it shows people a different way. Rabbi Abrams, whose story about the pushke opened this d’var reflected on the event and realized that the man had been taught something and it was meaningful to him. She could have flexed her considerable Torah and Talmud muscle and put him in his place, but that would have made her the bully. We can all choose. We can choose our words, our actions, and how we use our power.

Theologian and author Judith Plaskow, in reflecting on the story of Amalek, teaches us this: “We cannot forget the commandments to exclude the [Amalekites] or blot out the memory of Amalek because their presence in the Torah reminds us of how easy it is to respond to vengeance with more vengeance, or injustice with more injustice.”

There is enough of that in the world. Instead of offering more of it, why not respond with curiosity, kindness, and acceptance? Why not respond with love? Like Amalek, we will not forget how we have been bullied or the hurt it caused. But if we commit ourselves to acting differently and rejecting the intimidation, bellicosity, and victimization that bullying relies on, we can blot out that behavior until it is no more.