In our weekly parashah, Ekev, there are many precepts and commandments that Moses conveys to the people before leaving them beyond the Jordan. Moses consistently emphasizes the need to remember the entire journey they have taken, and as he expresses these reminders, almost as a plea, he says: “Keep these memories so that you do not forget them.”
We have preserved memories for generations, passed down by our ancestors, as vital as blood. We try to maintain a proper balance in the dialectic of memory and forgetfulness, so as not to consider what is merely accessory as essential, nor what is essential as merely accessory.
The text from the book of Devarim (Deuteronomy) is powerful in pointing out cause and effect. “It was because of you that the Lord was also angry with me,” Moses says to the people at the beginning of the fifth book of the Pentateuch.
EKEV reminds us repeatedly that obedience will result in favor and blessing, fertility, good health, and military victory; whereas forgetfulness, arrogance, idolatry, etc., will lead to destruction.
In his words, addressed to the people at the point of transition between the desert and permanent settlement in the Promised Land, he emphasizes the danger of social distress, which can arise from forgetting the two basic principles that unite our people: the transmission of a common narrative across generations and the necessary, indispensable moral and ideological alliance that we must maintain in daily life, guided by the Torah and the mitzvot.
Thus, Moses weaves together the memories of the people, beginning in a house of slavery, continuing with the collective experience of the Covenant at Sinai, and culminating in the desire and determination to establish themselves in the Land of Israel.
It is important to feel a sense of belonging to a united human group to ensure long-term survival. This applies both to the people of Israel and to a congregation or any group of belonging. That’s why I want to repeat this concept: it is important to feel a sense of belonging to a united human group to ensure long-term survival.
This is our case: we are not isolated individuals; we are members of a people whose fundamental values we share. From generation to generation, we continue to be part of this people.
Many times, we fall into the trap of occasional successes that inflate our ego, leading us to believe only in ourselves and thus abandon our commitments.
In these days, while in the State of Israel and much of the world, we are exposed to the arrogance and haughtiness of those who hold power, we must remember that lies, impunity, and corruption are merely symptoms of a broader social problem, inherent in the loss of the true sense of our common framework, in the abandonment of the relevance of memory, the narrative that unites us. It is important to feel a sense of belonging to a united human group to ensure long-term survival and to resist the obscene vanity of many leaders and rulers who, without any shame, blatantly display their lack of commitment to the ideals of solidarity, justice, equality before the law, and the value of the culture of effort.
All of this not only divides us but also makes us vulnerable to those who seek our disappearance, not figuratively, but in reality.
As a people, we have always known that forgetting, losing memory, means losing much of the resources we have to face reality; that memory was our engine, lighthouse, and compass to imagine and create, on our own, a different future, to sharpen our capacity for anticipation.
Lizkor la Olam, lo lishkoach—remember forever, and do not forget. Not to harbor a spirit of revenge or hatred, but to return to the path that leads us to a better place as a people and as individuals. Do not forget so as not to repeat. Do not forget to rebuild ourselves without neglecting that narrative that continues to grow in length and is still transmitted without omitting any part of it.
For the Jewish people, losing our memory would mean losing the ability to preserve, maintain, conserve, transmit, and spread what is important to continue living.
Today, having memory of the recent past and acting accordingly is not purely a conservative act; on the contrary, it is necessary to preserve ourselves, to combat those who aspire to eliminate us, to imagine change, and to make it possible.
It is precisely in this complex and difficult time, that we read in this week’s Parashah about the importance of maintaining balance in the delicate dance between memory and forgetfulness. A dance that begs us not to forget while continuing to live with the memories: to forgive in order to negotiate but not to neglect mourning and those who mourn.
In various languages, the act of remembering is associated not only with an intellectual process but also with the heart: to know something through our memory, in English, is “by heart”; in French, “par coeur”; and to forget someone, in Italian, is “scordarsi,” to cast out from the heart. We remember “sabemos de cor,” as they say in Portuguese means “what we carry in our hearts”. At the same time, what is unforgettable for us is what we really love, in and through time.
We have a great advantage; we know where we come from and where we do not want to return. So, perhaps we don’t need to invent a new path, just find in our memories the one that already exists.
In honor of the memory of our ancestors, may we continue to fight against antisemitism in all its forms.
May all the hostages and soldiers return home soon.
May we all have a Shabbat of true disconnection from all that troubles us and, with health, regain strength to continue dreaming of achieving our most cherished goals and purposes, always moving forward.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Gustavo Geier