This week, we read parshat Ki Teitzei, and it includes 74 Mitzvot.

These include the laws of the beautiful captive, the inheritance rights of the firstborn, the wayward and rebellious son, burial and dignity of the dead, returning a lost object, sending away the mother bird before taking her young, the duty to erect a safety fence around the roof of one’s home, and the various forms of kilayim (forbidden plant and animal hybrids).

Our Parshah also includes laws governing the purity of the military camp; the prohibition against turning in an escaped slave; the duty to pay a worker on time; the proper treatment of a debtor, and the prohibition against charging interest on a loan; the laws of divorce (from which are also derived many of the laws of marriage) and more.

Ki Teitzei concludes with the obligation to remember “what Amalek did to you on the road, on your way out of Egypt.”

There is a famous concept that during the month of Elul, “the king is in the field.”

To understand the specialty of this month, we use a parable:

During the year, if one wants to meet with the king, they require an interview. Then they are told to wait many long months during which they must prepare themselves. Finally, the day arrives and they dress in their finest clothes and make the long journey to the palace. There, they are granted only a precious few moments with His Honour.

Once a year, however, the king travels to the city and farmlands. There, he greets his people in their space. On their level. He is right before them. No need to travel or prepare.

This is Elul. During this month, Hashem approaches us and gives us the opportunity to speak to Him and ask Him for our needs.

Why do we Jews make such a big deal out of remembering Amalek?

We had so many enemies over time who all tried to harm us. Why is it Amalek whom we have a special commandment to never forget?

Amalek represents a much bigger idea that we deal with in our everyday lives. They were the first nation to attack the Jews after they left Egypt, thereby showing all our enemies that they can mess with us. They cooled down the power we had.

This issue presents itself in our times as well. Amalek expresses itself whenever we feel cold towards Judaism. This also occurs any time we lose our passion and excitement about being the chosen nation.

And this is why we must always remember Amalek.

A person is where his thoughts are. When we are constantly thinking about Moshiach and eagerly await the Redemption, it is as if we are already there. This very anticipation helps bring the Geulah in actuality. 

One Rosh Hashanah, the Baal Shem Tov asked his disciple, Rabbi Ze’ev Kitzes, to blow the shofar.

It was a tremendous honor—and Rabbi Ze’ev was nervous. The Baal Shem Tov instructed him to study the deep Kabbalistic meanings connected to every sound of the shofar.

Rabbi Ze’ev prepared carefully. To make sure he would remember everything, he wrote the main points on a small piece of paper and placed it safely in his pocket.

Then the moment came.

The synagogue grew silent. Rabbi Ze’ev reached into his pocket for his notes.

They were gone.

He searched again. Nothing.

His mind went blank. After all his preparation, he could not remember the meditations he had worked so hard to learn. Standing before the entire congregation, he felt that he had failed.

With tears in his eyes and a broken heart, he lifted the shofar and blew.

After the prayers, Rabbi Ze’ev sat crying beneath his tallit.

Then the Baal Shem Tov approached him.

“That was an extraordinary shofar blowing,” he told him.

Rabbi Ze’ev could not understand.

The Baal Shem Tov explained: There are many doors in a king’s palace, and each one has its own key. But there is also a master key that can open them all.

The spiritual meditations are like keys.

But a sincere, broken-open heart is the master key.