Trauma, triggers and our need to remember

In the lead up to Purim, we read Haftarah Zachor. Zachor means "Remember" and this Shabbat is known as Shabbat Zachor or the Sabbath of Memory.

But reading it this year was different - as so much of our lives are different after October 7. Suddenly Zachor’s themes of memory, forgetting and trauma are painfully raw and alive. 

‘Remember what Amalek did to you by the way, when you came forth out of Egypt; how he met you and struck at your rear, all who were feeble behind you, when you were faint and weary; and he did not fear God.’

Today, how can we not think of Hamas as we read those words? How Hamas massacred innocent children, women and men at 6.30am, most of them in their pyjamas on their kibbutzim or dancing at a nature rave.

Zachor is read on the Shabbat before Purim because Haman was the direct descendent of Agag the Amalekite king.

The Torah says that Amalek attacked from behind, aiming at the weak and the stragglers. They attacked "karcha" - which literally means by way of happenstance or arbitrarily. Amalek's entire philosophy is that there is no design or providence in the world.

The Kabbalists point out the gematria, the numerical value of Amalek - 240 - is the same as safek, meaning "doubt." The energy of Amalek is to create doubt about what is true and real in this world.

Again, we can’t help but think of that Hamas massacre. And all the pain and confusion and doubting what is real since.

Professor Netanel Laor, trauma expert and professor of psychiatry and philosophy at Tel Aviv and Yale universities  was tasked with coordinating the services for evacuees and survivors from the Gaza-adjacent communities 

He wrote an article describing how Hamas wanted to lead us down a slope into randomness – jettisoning humanity. The terrible randomness and barbarity of Oct 7 and all that ensued has been traumatic for Israelis and Jewish people all over the world.

But the story of Amalek hints at a possible way forward. The central line about remembering Amalek is puzzling. The Torah says “you shall blot out the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven; you shall not forget it.”

How can we blot out the memory of someone and at the same time not forget them? It seems like a paradox.

I think the Torah is saying something about the way we need to remember, one that echoes our contemporary understanding of trauma.

We know that traumatic memories haunt us. They stay in our body, making us overreactive. They stay in our mind, invading us as intrusive images, flashbacks and nightmares.

There are serious dangers for Israel to be a society triggered by trauma. It can be hard to differentiate between what is good defensive strategy, the need to remove a barbaric terrorist organisation from Israel’s border, and what may be a trauma-driven response.

So how can you remember without being triggered? We know that retelling, and remembering in particular conditions allows one to re-experience the memory of trauma in a safe way, reducing its triggering power. Processes such as Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), somatic trauma therapy, and, post-traumatic play therapy aim to do exactly this. 

As Jews we’ve been involved in this kind of remembering in our own particular way for thousands of years. We’ve been embedding our memories, the painful and traumatic, in ritual and recital: the Seder when we remember the pain of our slavery, Tisha B’av when we remember the destruction of the temples, Purim when we remember Haman’s attempt to kill all the Jews in Persia. 

I’m guessing a liturgy will be created to remember October 7. There has already has been a lot of innovation in prayer since.

But we’re not there yet. At the moment Israelis and many Jews around the world are still very battered. In Israel they don’t talk of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) because the trauma is still current.

Professor Laor talks about the way to heal collective trauma. He explains that it involves embracing our highest humanity. He writes that we need “to reinstate the spiritual dimension as a central axis for meaning in our lives".

Lalor talks of the "highest humanity" which consists in the solidarity of collective action. We’ve been witness to that highest humanity. In Israel there has been an outpouring of civic society generosity: people volunteering to cook meals for soldiers, pick crops in abandoned kibbutzim, therapists offering free therapy. It's been happening and continues to happen all across Israeli society.  

We’ve seen it around the world too, including here in Melbourne. People have come together in solidarity, with compassion, strength and resolve. Communities have collected goods to send, people have travelled to Israel to volunteer, over 18 months weekly vigils have been held to bring the hostages back, and of course lots of money has been donated. All this contributes to resilience, and as Laor says, to healing.     

Tal Becker, an Australian-Israeli international law expert warns of the danger of trauma taking over our identity. "We didn’t create Israel to be a fortress ghetto - not just to make Jews safe but to create an exemplary society and help those around us thrive as well. We can’t allow the trauma to define us and the outer limit of our imagination."

I pray that we find the wisdom to both remember and not allow our trauma to define or limit us.