Comity or Isolation

 

My Future Does Not Lie in Isolation

These are strange times. Drawbridges are being hauled up, across the world and in so many ways; political, military, but also emotionally and even religiously. We are being offered the classic test of Game Theory. There is a large sum of money in the middle of a table surrounded by people. If no-one presses the big red button for a minute everyone gets a share of the large sum, but if one person presses the button, they get a smaller fraction, but no one else gets anything.

 

Can we, should we, restrain ourselves from leaping towards the button? We all, surely, have that fear that, if we don’t move first, someone else will and we’ll be left– in the Israeli idiom – as a “Friar” or sucker. The Game Theory challenge is a good one. It’s not a test of selflessness or a willingness to place the rights of the other above mine, it’s a test of the ability to have faith in the collective and the notion of a greater good if we can find a way forward by behaving as a community as opposed to a collection of individuals.

 

And so to Yitro.

 

This week’s Torah portion contains the Ten Commandments; the single most specific, intimate moment of election of our people. The Rabbis, and much of later Biblical text, see it as a moment of isolation from the other nations of the world. “You,” says God, “are the one I want.” And we respond, “Our God is One God.” There is much in Jewish life that can feel isolated; we don’t eat the same food, pray in the same language, hold the same things dear as so many others. And there is so much in Jewish history that has scarred, again and again, our willingness to have faith in a broader vision. It’s been hard to believe in, in that phrase from Israel’s Declaration of Independence, the value of a “comity of nations.”

 

But the week’s Torah portion opens with a reminder of the dangers of the isolationist position. Moses is visited by his father-in-law, the Priest of Midian. An outsider.  He looks at how Moses is providing leadership and shares, “This thing you are doing – your way of running this society – is not good.” Moses has taken too much on his own shoulders and, Yitro warns, “Navol Tibol, you will be surely worn away.” Yitro, the outsider, helps Moses see that his own best interests lie in sharing a burden, having and more importantly instilling faith and those around him.

The purpose of fighting against the scarred game theory urge to press the big red button as fast as possible, is because my self-interest demands it. If I pursue only my own interests, isolated from cultivating a sense of “comity” – a belief that nations and individuals can do more by acting with courtesy and in community – I will surely be worn away.

Shabbat Shalom

Can You Have Coloured Threads on a Tallit

  

I was asked about the suitability of coloured threads in a Tallit (not Techelet, but specifically colours to match the colours of the materials used in the Mishkan).

 

There is a clear prohibition in the Talmud against using an ‘indigo’ dye.

If you are using kosher Techelet, that’s fine, but you can’t use anything that could be confused with the colour of Techelet.

 

There are statements in Halacha that the threads, other than Techelet, should be white. Rambam says that and even the Ravad – who famously disagrees with Rambam about almost everything only disagrees about how much Techelet should be used, and agrees that the rest of the threads should be white.

 

However there is a clear instruction, again, in the Talmud that “the threads should be like the garment.” That’s clearly understood to mean that if you have a woolen garment you need woolen Tzitzit etc. i.e. the thing that needs to agree is the MATERIAL. But the Shulchan Arukh says that “some people understand that the COLOUR of the threads has to match the COLOUR of the garment. That was news for me.

The Shulchan Arukh is a Sefardi legal authority and the leading Ashkenazi authority, the Rema, writing right on that comment in the Shulchan Arukh says this;

והאשכנזים אין נוהגים לעשות הציציות רק לבנים אף בבגדים צבועים ואין לשנות

Ashkenazim only make Tziitzit with white [threads] even on coloured garments and this should not be altered.

 

The Mishneh Brurah, also Ashkenaz, has no problem with a coloured garment, but suggests that ‘careful’ people should use white since that is definitely OK and also matches a verse in Daniel (the book, not the father!) that describes God’s clothes as white as snow -  ולבושיה כתלג

The Bach (the legal authority not the composer) and the Magen Avraham also make a point about white threads matching God’s white garment.

 

So …

It’s not ideal.

There is a possibility of relying on it, according to the Sephardi Shulchan Arukh.

There is certainly fulsome support for a coloured garment, and also a nice idea about white threads.

But on the basis that the Shulchan Arukh notes that some say the threads on a coloured garment should be coloured, it’s definitely not forbidden.

 

I’ve put all the sources referred to in this document

https://www.sefaria.org/sheets/625023?editor=1

 

Responding to President Trump's 'Plan' on Gaza - Feb 2025

 

There are several reasons NOT to respond to President Trump's recent attempt to solve the problem of Gaza.

Good reasons NOT to respond include ...

I'm not an expert in geopolitics. I'm not a citizen of Gaza, Israel or the United States.

Bad reasons NOT to respond include ...

I'm busy. There is a piece of me that respects the fact that Trump played a role in managing to get some hostages out. There is a piece of me that is so scarred by October 7th that I'm sneakily excited at the idea of making the problem go away with the ease President Trump promises.

An insufficient reason TO respond is that the so-called plan is stupid, illegal and immoral verging on advocating for ethnic cleansing. The ‘plan’ is all of these things, but if it was only this, I wouldn’t be posting. But …

One.

There are people who are excited about this 'plan.' They include Israelis, self-described friends of Israel and (for my church is a broad church) I suspect even members of my own community. To these people I want to scream, "be careful what you wish for." Israel must be secure, but Israel's security will not come by ethnically cleansing Gaza of two million Gazans and creating a Riviera on the Gazan coast. No wall is high enough. Hatred will not dissipate by the transfer of Gazans away from Gaza. And the idea that somehow this President is a reliable ally for Israel is tenuous in the extreme. The ‘plan,’ like so many ‘plans’ currently being aired in his new Presidential term, is not thought through. It’s not funded. And it won’t be, no matter how many times President Trump says he’s spoken with a bunch of people who agree with him. In a recent podcast, Rabbi Donniel Hartman suggested that Israel has a new Prime Minister, Donald Trump. Speaking of this ‘plan’ as supportive of Israel’s security is to outsource self-determination to a demagogic criminal who doesn’t really care about anything other than himself. Long-term meaningful security can only come by doing the hard work, building towards peace and respect. I know it doesn’t feel that that is possible now, but falling in line with Prime Minister Trump will only make that worse, and pushes the prospect of long-term security further away.

Two

People watch who speaks out against 'plans' which are stupid, illegal, immoral and verge on advocating for ethnic cleansing. I've been one of those people. When 'plans' were hatched against Jews, I've watched, waiting for people to speak out with the conviction and clarity I expect of any decent human being. In the aftermath of October 7th, I was desperate to hear from any Palestinian, Arab or Muslim a rejection of the awful plans of Hamas and (with notable exceptions - I recommend following Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib ) I've largely waited in vain. And now this.

Gazans, and those who feel an affinity for the people of Gaza, are not wrong to watch out. So I, a mainstream rabbi who supports Israel, leading a mainstream shul which supports Israel, speak out.

To anyone listening, I do not accept President Trump’s ‘plan’ for Gaza. It’s stupid, illegal and immoral verging on advocating ethnic cleansing. Can we please focus on trying to find a different way?

Thank you Jeremy Assous for the prompt below. I've signed, and am proud to sign this https://secure.yachad.org.uk/page/165571/data/1... from Yachad. Also proud to support עומדים ביחד نقف معًا and recommend checking out A Land for All ארץ לכולם بلاد للجميع among other organisations who are working to advocate other ways.

Impact Assessment of Weekly Anti-Israel Protests in Swiss Cottage on the Local Synagogue Community

(Photo from https://www.instagram.com/combatantisemitism/p/C-2zw0moH6X/) 

February 6, 2025

I write as Rabbi of New London Synagogue, a Jewish faith community of 1500 members. The Synagogue is located less than a mile away from the location of these protests on Abbey Road, NW8 0AT. Many of our members live locally on the far side of the Swiss Cottage and would pass these protests on the way to Synagogue. I also write as a local resident living very locally to my community.

Introduction

As you will be aware, since early 2024, Swiss Cottage in London has been the site of weekly anti-Israel protests held Friday early evenings. These demonstrations have been timed to coincide with the onset of the Jewish Sabbath, a sacred time dedicated to rest, prayer, and community gatherings. The timing of these protests raises significant concerns regarding their impact on the local synagogue community's ability to practice their religion peacefully. The reports I receive of these protests are that they are boisterous, combative and aggressive in their chants and affect. While I support the right to protest, I don’t support any so-called right to intimidate or scare, and the culture of these protests, now well-set over many months, seems to be designed to do that.

Evidence

I have members who have shared they feel uncomfortable coming to the Synagogue through these protests which they perceive as being, too often, angry, aggressive and featuring antisemitic and otherwise offensive chanting.

A 13 year old girl in the community, faces this challenge on a weekly basis. She walks – and, again, being the Jewish Sabbath, walking is the only religiously acceptable method of transport for her -  from her home to the other side of Swiss Cottage every Friday evening. She shares, on a weekly basis, her unease and nervousness. Her parents have looked at circuitous pathways that avoid the area, but the site of the protests is chosen to make avoiding it especially difficult. She feels she needs to gee herself up in an act of bravery to walk along the road. She’s thirteen. That shouldn’t be necessary.

As you will be aware, in September 2024, a 27-year-old man was arrested in Swiss Cottage for allegedly chanting support for Hamas, including phrases like "I love the 7th October" and "I love an organisation that starts with H," referencing the Hamas attack on Israel in October 2023.[1] Our community is grateful that Police responded after this alleged event, but this incident is neither uncommon nor unexpected. The protests seemed geared towards fermenting this kind of anger. Again, arresting someone suspected of a crime  sends an important message, but when incidents like this happen and stories of this and similar incidents are reported on a weekly basis, the damage to the local Jewish community, and I would argue the broader community of decent-minded local residents, is magnified.

Many in my community complain tell me they hear language like this on a weekly basis. There is a perception in the community that, despite multiple complaints to the police, there has been a failure to take adequate action to address these issues by moving these protests away either in location or time, or otherwise ensuring the culture of barracking aggressive language and chanting changes.

There have, clearly, been attempts to police these protests more effectively, but this has largely been through ensuring large numbers of uniformed officers are sent to the area. Sadly, and I do have sympathy for the Police in their attempts to balance competing rights, a large police presence at these protests seems similarly both correct and further-damaging. As a Jew living in London, I don’t want to feel my right to pass through a major thoroughfare less than a mile from my home, depends on the presence of scores of officers. Different preventative strategies are necessary.

Conclusion

The weekly anti-Israel protests Swiss Cottage have a tangible and adverse impact on my synagogue community and members of my family's ability to observe the Sabbath peacefully. The documented antisemitic incidents and the general atmosphere of tension during these demonstrations contribute to a sense of insecurity among community members. It is imperative for local authorities to recognise these challenges and take appropriate measures to ensure that the rights of the Jewish community to practice their religion without fear or disruption are upheld.

 

---

[1] https://www.thejc.com/community/pro-israel-activist-demands-action-against-antisemitic-marches-in-swiss-cottage-is2lh6ni?utm_source=chatgpt.com

How Demagogic Political Leaders Fail

It’s a good week to be talking about demagogic political leaders, who think they are god-empowered to rule in ways oppressive and cruel, come to fail.

In fact, for me anyway, it’s been impossible to think about anything else.

There’s the Parasha – with Pharoah refusing to let my people go. Actually, even that phrase doesn’t cut it. Pharoah who plotted, wilfully, the genocidal murder of every boy born to the Israelites in Egypt. Pharoah fails, even if there was pain and destruction that came before that eventuality.

There’s the echoes of 80 years ago – Monday marks an extraordinary anniversary – the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau and the images of skeletal survival and mass death that flood my mind are intercut with flashes of footage from the Nuremberg rallies and invective filled speeches of Hitler, Yemach Shemo v’Zichro. And Hitler failed, even if there was pain and destruction that came before that eventuality.

Then there’s this last week and the news from across the pond; when a day that was supposed to be about the conventions of the democratic transition of power of the greatest democracy in the World, were marred by a Nazi salute and a President who didn’t seem to care at all for the conventions of the democratic transition of power; a leader who suggested he was selected by God to provide his particular brand of leadership.

My mind has darted back to 2016 review in the New York Times that caused quite a stir at the time. Michiko Kakutani, the Pulitzer Prize lead book critic for the NYT, wrote about a biography of Hitler by Volker Ulhrich. I’d already read the Ulhrich book before I heard about the review. It’s chilling, as you would expect. But Kakutani didn’t seem to be reviewing the book when she wrote, this

“How did Adolf Hitler—described by one eminent magazine editor in 1930 as a “half-insane rascal,” a “pathetic dunderhead,” a “nowhere fool,” a “big mouth”—rise to power in the land of Goethe and Beethoven? What persuaded millions of ordinary Germans to embrace him and his doctrine of hatred? How did this “most unlikely pretender to high state office” achieve absolute power in a once democratic country and set it on a course of monstrous horror?”

Some have focused on the social and political conditions in post-World War I Germany, which Hitler expertly exploited — bitterness over the harsh terms of the Treaty of Versailles and a yearning for a return to German greatness; unemployment and economic distress amid the worldwide Depression of the early 1930s; and longstanding ethnic prejudices and fears of "foreignization."

Mr. Ullrich, like other biographers, provides vivid insight into some factors that helped turn a "Munich rabble-rouser" — regarded by many as a self-obsessed "clown" with a strangely "scattershot, impulsive style" — into "the lord and master of the German Reich."

Everyone felt Kakutani was reviewing the Republican Presidential Candidate at the election three weeks after her review was published, the eventual winner of that, and now again, election President Donald Trump.

To be clear, I don’t think Trump is a genocidal mass-murderer-in-waiting. But I am terrified. Uhlirch’s biography of Hitler shows brilliantly how a rabble-rousing self-obsessed clown who can tap into longstanding ethnic prejudices, fears of "foreignization" and the experience of economic distress can build power from people at every level in society; from the poorest who feel such a leader is on their side despite all evidence to the contrary, to the industrialists willing to kowtow, or looking to turn a quick buck or thinking they will escape being tarred by the association with a demagogue.

Pharoah, of course, is resolutely afraid of, in Kakutani’s phrase, “foreignization,”

Hinei Am Bnei Yisrael Rav V’Atzum Mimeinu

“Behold the Israelite people are too numerous and mighty for us. Let us deal shrewdly with them, otherwise in the event of way, they may join our enemies in fighting against us and rise from the ground.”

Not that there was any evidence of our ancestors plotting against their host nation. Joseph, of course, was the person who led Egypt through its time of famine. But let’s facts get in the way of an opportunity to milk longstanding ethnic prejudice.

I always find the opening of the Book of Exodus chilling in its evil, particularly the deliberation of the evil. It’s always made me reflect on the Holocaust and the antisemitism that has greeted out people before and since, and the hatreds vested against so many other minorities and divergencies and differences.

Perhaps the way in which we Jews are most responsible for the ills that have befallen our people is that we introduced the idea of a scapegoat to Western Civilization – a goat onto which the sins of the people could be transferred, a goat which could be sent away over a cliff and out of mind out of our care – that’s a Biblical idea too. I’m not sure it worked then, I’m totally sure it won’t work now.

So what helps, what brings demagogic leaders down?

Courage, Shifra/Puah (Edith last week), Moses – even despite his aral sefataim, even though he didn’t want to, was prepared to face down Pharoah. The good news is  that courage breeds courage. The first time you stand up to power feels harder, the second time easier. The reverse is also true; the more one kowtows and performs obeisance to the corrupt and dishonestly powerful, the harder it becomes to ever say, ‘no.’

Don’t accept the unacceptable Lo Lhitragel, when Moses goes to the Children of Israel, they are unable to hear the call to freedom, mipnei avodah kasher v’kotzer ruach. Have to keep teaching ourselves not to accept what is popular as what is right. I think that’s the point of coming to Shul – to prick our tendencies to become habituated to the unacceptable. Had the priv of teaching a passage from our founder Rabbi, Louis Jacobs’ book on Jewish Values. Talking about the relationship between what is popularly seen as acceptable and what is truly holy, Rabbi Jacobs wrote this, in 1960;

            One of the besetting faults of our age is the cult of personality glorification, ignoring the character which personality conceals. A charming manner [is] sufficient to veil inner depravity. This can hardly be the Jewish ideal.

 

Hope & Faith – the world is not, I think, doomed. Nor has it ever been. The collection of good is greater than the collection of evil. Very easy to become pessimistic, faith should buttress us against miserablism. Science too. Prof Steven Pinker, enlightenment now,  “For all the problems we have today, the problems of yesterday usually were worse,” “Things really have gotten better [and] not by themselves; it’s taken human effort and human ingenuity and human commitment.” But we can do that.

Dark sermon, sorry. With the exception of this magnificent BM, been a bit of a dark week.

Humour – Rudolph Herzog, the cabaret artists, some Jewish, many queer who were prepared to mock and strip away the pretensions of almost divine power Hitler was prepared to welcome. Tough to do, but incredibly powerful. How do you take away from someone who seems so powerful their power, mock them. Something in the Rabbinic tradition of this. Something in the great tradition of Jewish humour of all ages.

There’s a piece of this visible in this week’s parasha.

The plague of blood opens with God telling Moses to go to the river Nile in the morning when Pharoah is coming out of the water. What, the rabbis ask, is Pharoah doing in the Nile in the morning?

  לִנְקָבָיו; שֶׁהָיָה עוֹשֶׂה עַצְמוֹ אֱלוֹהַּ וְאוֹמֵר שֶׁאֵינוֹ צָרִיךְ לִנְקָבָיו, וּמַשְׁכִּים וְיוֹצֵא לַנִּילוּס וְעוֹשֶׂה שָׁם צְרָכָיו (תנחומא):

to pee, for he had made himself godlike saying he did not need to go to the toilet, so when he woke, he would go out to the Nile to perform his needs. — [from Mid. Tanchuma, Va’era 14; Exod. Rabbah 9:8]

And that’s when God strikes back, when Pharoah is trying to get in a quick, unseen, pee, turning the water of the Nile red with blood. That’s a way to strike back at a bully with pretensions of godly grandeur. Take from ‘em the dignity of being able to cruise around in their chariots as if they transcend the rules of a normal human. We need the brave clowns, even, dare it be said, the slightly cruel humourists who push their fingers into the ribs of genteel society in ways that feel awkward. Clowns reveal truths more dainty souls fail to expose. It has always been thus.

And it will take all of this,

Humour, faith, courage and that eleventh commandment – lo lhitragel to lead us from these dark times into freedom.

Shabbat Shalom

Just One Blessing - Thoughts on Parshat Toledot

This is always, for me, a difficult Parasha

I get that we are supposed to favour Jacob over Esau and indeed find ourselves, the Children of Israel, in the narrative of our patriarch Jacob.

But … I never have.

Jacob comes across in this week’s Torah reading as a bit of a schemer, quick to do his brother out of his birthright at the beginning of the Parasha. And then quick to follow his mother’s – let it be said – desperately dishonest advice, at the end.

And I know the Rabbinic commentaries, that Rebecca knew that the covenant had to run through her favoured son, which is supposed to justify the deceit. But it doesn’t help much.

And I know Easau, the red-headed, the purchaser of red-lentil soup, is the ancestor of the Edomites who wreak such havoc later in our story and presage the terrible things done to our people by the Romans, called Edom. I know also the Rabbinic commentaries that associate every action of Easau with idolatrous wrongdoing. But it doesn’t shift me much.

I mean, I know he’s quick to sell off his birthright;

          וְיַעֲקֹ֞ב נָתַ֣ן לְעֵשָׂ֗ו לֶ֚חֶם וּנְזִ֣יד עֲדָשִׁ֔ים וַיֹּ֣אכַל וַיֵּ֔שְׁתְּ וַיָּ֖קׇם וַיֵּלַ֑ךְ וַיִּ֥בֶז עֵשָׂ֖ו אֶת־הַבְּכֹרָֽה׃

That verse is brutal in its stripped backparsimony.

He ate, he drank, he got up, he went and he spurned, did Esau, the birthright.

But Esau is not supposed to be the smart one, who dwells in the encampment studying. He’s the guy out hunting in the field and he’s, at the very least, tired and hungry.

He certainly regrets the action.

When Esau finds that Jacob has come in and taken the blessing from their father from under his nose – Bmirmah – as Isaac says it, in guile. Easau wails.

That’s another extraordinary passage,

[Esau] said, “Was he, then, named Jacob that he might supplant me these two times? First, he took away my birthright and now he has taken away my blessing!” And he added, “Have you not reserved a blessing for me?”

Isaac answered, saying to Esau, “But I have made him master over you: I have given him all his brothers for servants, and sustained him with grain and wine. What, then, can I still do for you, my son?”

And Esau said to his father, “Have you but one blessing, Father? Bless me too, Father!” And Esau wept aloud.

 

It breaks my heart every year.

I know people like Easau, who are a bit simpler than the very sharpest of men but loyal and decent. By the way, who wins the prize for honouring your father in the context of this week’s Parasha?

And I do know I one of the Children of Israel, one of the people of the God of Abraham, and for me to be in this place – this place I love, holding this heritage I adore -  I need that the Biblical story unfolds not through Esau, but through Jacob – who is to become Israel in next week’s Torah reading, when he wrestles that angel.

But it doesn’t sit easy.

And every year, when I come to this parasha, and I read through the classic commentaries that justify the actions of Jacob and Rebekkah and Isaac, and the modern commentaries, particularly from within the Orthodox world, I’m left cold. To mix my metaphors, a little as if I’ve been given something beautiful to eat, but it’s got ashen, somehow in my mouth.

So, for those of you who have heard me preach on this Parasha before, you will have heard me preach about destabilising narratives which see me retreat behind the sense I have of what I know is right, or preaching about not falling for the assumptions of the evil of the other, or that sort of thing.

Actually, it’s not even the tale of Jacob and Easau that brings up this destabilized sense of my relationship with the Avot and Imahot of these stories – the founding parents, the archetypes and the bases of our faith.

Back a generation, as it were, there’s the story of the Hagar. Brought in to provide a child to an infertile couple and then kicked out when the couple manage their own child. Hagar is, of course, the mother of Ishmael – held to be the first Arab.

It’s almost a trop.

That we have a thread of connection that binds us to archetypes who shape everything we are, as Jews. But none of them is a paragon of perfection on the straightforward reading of their lives. They behave, at times, in ways that cause us and other characters in our sacred scripture distress.

The characters who suffer the behaviour of our great archetypes go down in our literary and religious history as our enemies, but when we read these tales with an open heart, they inspire empathy too. At least they do for me. Actually, it might be even more complex than that.

The great Tikvah Frymer Kensky in her book, reading the Women of the Bible, writes

Hagar is the prototype of Israel. Everything that happens to Hagar is paralleled by the story of Israel's sacred history. The liberation, the wandering in the desert, the promise from God. The unsettling nature of the story is that Sara is our mother, but Hagar is us. You sympathize with Hagar and feel uneasy about it. That is the technique of the storyteller. Hagar is the double of Israel, yet so is Sara.

We might be both sides of each of these stories. The hero and the antihero all bound into one.

I don’t really have an end to this sermon.

I don’t have a neat way to wrap it up and apply it to the awful bloody brokenness of the Middle East.

I certainly don’t excuse or feel anything less than utter contempt for the perpetrators of the horrors of 7^th October, or anything less than utter heartbreak for those suffering.

But I can’t retreat behind only feeling for one side of this story.

Maybe there is a lesson in a Midrash which tells us how Abraham felt about his two sons – the covenantal son, the one who goes on to bear the story from his own generation into the future, Isaac, and the other son – the one to be sent away – Ishmael.

When God tells Abraham, “take your son, your only son, the one you love, Isaac,” the Rabbis assume the conversation between God and Abraham,

“take your son,” – I have two sons

“your only son,” – they are each the only son of their respective mothers

“the one you love,” – is there a limit on how much we can love? – Says Abraham, in the mind of the rabbis of Bereishit Rabba.

Why does there have to be a limit on the amount we can love.

Or, from this week’s reading, my heart is still snagging, and ripping on that verse Easau shares, when he realises that Isaac has blessed Jacob instead of himself.

Have you but one blessing father? Bless me also father -  הַֽבֲרָכָ֨ה אַחַ֤ת הִֽוא־לְךָ֙ אָבִ֔י בָּֽרֲכֵ֥נִי גַם־אָ֖נִי אָבִ֑י:

But mainly, my heart is just with the continuation of that verse.

וַיִּשָּׂ֥א עֵשָׂ֛ו קֹל֖וֹ וַיֵּֽבְךְּ

And he lifted up his voice and wept.

Shabbat Shalom

 

Here I Am

I had the privilege of being at a 20-year reunion at JTS today.

Amazing!!

20 years.

It turned out we didn't have enough time to make it through all the various plans we had for a day together and my dear colleague Rabbi Rachel Ain asked me to run a closing something in 3 minutes.

I shared the Sugya, in honour of the person from whom I first learnt it, my then Dean, Rabbi Bill Lebeau, who made a special appearance to celebrate the special day.

This is the first time I used the Sugya in a Sermon, my interview sermon at the Synagogue I now lead, and joined 16 years ago, formerly home of Rabbi Louis Jacobs and the synagogue I grew up at.

Dika Anna

 

This is, I think, the sixth time I have had the honour of addressing this community from this pulpit.

And it always feels a bit strange.

 

I still think of myself sitting over there somewhere, with my father.

I still think of myself, as a small child, hiding in the velvet curtains and pretending I had understood the sermon so I could join in the conversation between my parents as we walked home from shul.

 

And it feels particularly strange today.

For me,

To be applying to become the next Rabbi at Louis’ Shul.

 

I’m reminded of a previous American Presidential campaign where Dan Quayle, a man who couldn’t spell the word ‘tomato,’ tried to pass himself off as an inheritor of the legacy of JFK.

‘Senator Quayle,’ responded Lloyd Benson, ‘I knew Jack Kennedy, I worked with Jack Kennedy. Senator Quayle, you are no Jack Kennedy.’

 

Other faith traditions have tales about the glory of having an occasionally errant child of a community wander away and look to return.

Other faith traditions have tales of welcoming back the returning child with extraordinary delight.

But I don’t think those stories reflect us, you and I, today.

I’ve spent almost five hours in interviews this past week facing questions and concerns.

And there’s been a lot of fear, a lot of anxiety. I am too much this, not enough that, what about the legacy of Louis?

 

I want, today, to explore what I understand by inheriting a fearsome and glorious spiritual inheritance and what I understand by the command to carry a fearsome and glorious inheritance forward.

 

It is a perfect parasha to explore these ideas.

Ve’eleh toledot.

And these are the generations.

This week’s parasha is the story of Isaac, an inheritor of a fearsome and glorious spiritual inheritance.

A man who

dug again the wells of water, which they had dug in the days of Abraham his father; and he called their names after the names by which his father had called them.

 

Ve’eleh toledot

And these are the generations

This week’s parasha is also the story of Isaac the ancestor

A man who bequeathed a legacy to the generation to come – to Jacob, Israel, to all of us sitting here today, some four thousand years later.

 

The unfolding of generations.

From one to another.

 

A story, about the unfolding of generations.

It comes from Rabbi Jacob’s charming autobiography.

Rabbi Jacobs has just been appointed to the flagship congregation, the New West End, and he is, in his own words, indulging in some namedropping.

He’s telling of all the Lords and Ladies, the dignitaries and captains of industry and he recalls a moment, just before the first Kol Nidrei service at the synagogue.

And he’s standing in the vestry with the Third Lord SoandSo whom he had only recently met.

 

These are Rabbi Jacobs’ words.

Time was pressing and I suggested that we go into the synagogue for Kol Nidre.

The Lord replied that he did not want to enter the synagogue for a while and that he would explain why after the service.

His explanation was that his grandfather, the first Lord, although a very observant Jew, did not hold with the Kol Nidre formula and used to wait patiently in the foyer until this part of the service was over.

His son, the second Lord, less observant and a little indifferent to the whole question would still wait outside because his father had done so.

The third Lord explained he personally didn’t understand what it was all about, but felt obliged to carry on the family tradition.

 

I find it a sad tale.

A tale of an emptying, a tale about the survival of the husk at the expense of the kernel.

A meaningless ritual followed for no particular reason other than the fact that his father had done is that way.

It’s the kind of story that makes me fear for the future of our glorious spiritual inheritance.

It’s a story that makes me fear, just a little, about this glorious synagogue.

 

I’m sure that as Rabbi Jacobs was writing this tale of his Lordship, he had in mind the famous story that closes Gershon Scholem’s magisterial Major Trends in Jewish Mysticism, Scholem, of course, was much admired by Rabbi Jacobs who chaired one of Scholem’s lectures in London.

The story of their Lordships certainly reminded me of this tale.

 

When the [founder of Chasidism] the Baal Shem had a difficult task before him, he would go to a certain place in the woods, light a fire and meditate in prayer and what he had set out to perform was done.

When, a generation later [his student] the Maggid was faced with the same task he would go to the same place in the woods and say, ‘We can no longer light the fire, but we can still speak the prayer – and what he wanted done became reality.

Again a generation later Rabbi Moshe Leib of Sassov had to perform this task. And he too went into the woods and said, ‘We can no longer light a fire, nor do we know the secret meditation belonging the prayer, but we do know the place in the woods to which it all belongs and that must be sufficient’ and sufficient it was.

But when another generation had passed and Rabbi Israel of Rishin was called upon to perform the task, he say down on his golden chair in his castle and said, ‘We cannot light the fire, we cannot speak the prayer, we do not know the place, but we can tell the story of how it was done.’”

 

Rabbi Israel died some 150 years ago, and most of us have forgotten even the story.

 

It’s very easy to become maudlin at the passing of one generation.

We mourn those we love.

We mourn those who lit a beacon for us.

Even if we think, in theory, that we have ‘got over’ the mourning for a lost loved one, our losses prey upon us,

Most particularly when we face the all too concrete question of moving on - opening our homes and our heart to someone else – that’s when our losses can haunt us most fiercely.

And in the face of this ferocity it is all too possible to cast any potential next partner as a fraud, as a failure, as not really ‘my type.’

It’s all too possible to subject any incomer to a test that will break anyone.

I’m sure we have all done it.

And it’s a good thing to be scared about, if you are in the business of vele toledot.

And I am scared.

 

I was thinking about this, particularly last week, in the context of Eliezer’s attempt to find a partner for his master’s son Isaac.

I couldn’t help but read this story from the perspective of a Rabbinical Search process.

Abraham sets out the brief;

no-one from the daughters of Canaan, Gd forbid,

And off Eliezer goes, loaded up with trinkets and baubles to attract some bright young thing for Isaac.

I wonder how Eliezer felt on the return journey, coming back with this stranger, someone to lead into the future. Leading a search committee is a daunting task, Milton, I suspect you know this better than I.

A lot of nerves and a good slice of fear.

 

I wonder how Rebecca would have felt, shifting a little uncomfortably on her camel at the prospect of spending the rest of her life with a man she had never met.

I wonder how Isaac would have felt, at the prospect of some new woman in his life.

Actually while we know nothing about Eliezer and virtually nothing about Rebecca’s feelings, we do know about Isaac – the suitor.

 

v¼¨­¦t‰k IËk›h¦v§T³u vÁ¨e‰c¦r›,¤t jÍ©E°H³u IºN¦t vɨr¨G ¿vŠk¡v«Ît¨v e½¨j‰m°h ¨vɤtˆc±h³u 

IœN¦t hË¥r£jœ©t e¼¨j‰m°h oË¥j²B°H³u ¨v·†c¨v¡tœ®H³u

 

And Isaac brought Rebecca to the tent of Sarah his mother

And he took Rebecca and she was for him a wife

And he loved her

And he was comforted after the death of his mother.

 

We know it works.

 

Oddly there is virtually no Rabbinic commentary on this verse.

There’s a charming Midrash[1] that tells us that once Rebecca was installed as Isaac’s wife a cooling wind – a ruach, a spirit, that had been lacking since Sarah passed away – returned.

We know it worked, but we don’t know how.

There are no stories about Isaac and Rebecca going on dates in the foyers of the King David Hotel.

No clues as to what I could do, now, to help find a way to have you accept me as the next Rabbi of this special community.

 

The verse is so stark in its simplicity –

He took her as a wife, and then he loved and then he was comforted.

Maybe there is wisdom in the order of the verbs.

You have to commit before you can love.

You have to love before you can be comforted.

Courting seems so much more complex these days.

But I’m not sure it is possible to feel comforted until you fall in love again,

And I’m not sure it is possible to fall in love without commitment.

 

It’s easy to feel maudlin at the passing of a generation.

 

This is the very last Mishnah in Tractate Sotah. It is describing the end of a generation some 1800 years ago.

 

When Rebbi Meir passed away, there were no more great tellers of tales.

When Ben Azzai passed away, there were no more keen scholars.

When Ben Zoma passed away, there were no more great sermons.

When Rabbi Akiva passed away, there was no more honour for the Torah.

It goes on.

When Rebbe died, there was no more humility and there was no more fear of sin.

 

It’s a maudlin, almost terminally despairing view of Jewish life.

And admittedly it was a hard time to believe in a Jewish future.

But we, Jews, are forbidden from yeush – despair, and by the time of the completion of the Gemarah this Mishnah has a different ending.

 

Rabbi Yoseph turned to the teacher of the text and he told him,

Don’t include the piece about there being no more humility – d’ika ana.

For here I am.

Rabbi Nahman turned to the teacher of the text and he told him,

Don’t include the piece about there being no more fear of sin – d’ika ana.

Here I am.[2]

 

Who did these fools think they were?

Rabbi Yoseph, I knew Jack Kennedy, I worked with Jack Kennedy...

 

Actually I suspect they knew exactly what they were doing.

I love the idea that Rabbi Yoseph waits, while this whole litany of what is no more unfolds, until someone says there is no more humility. And this is the point he challenges – what holy chutzpah does that take!

The Mishnah can’t be allowed to stand because it’s too maudlin, and we are forbidden to despair.

 

I love the idea that the only possible response to what has passed, as one generation unfolds into another, is to say

Ika ana

Here I am.

 

And so,

Ika ana

Here I am.

And I don’t know how to light the fire, I don’t know the words of the Baal Shem’s magical prayer, I don’t know where to go in the forest.

But I do know the story.

I know Scholem’s story, the story as it appears in Major Trends.

I know a whole bunch of Talmud and philosophy and theology and all that good stuff.

And I know the story of this place, of New London Synagogue.

 

But more important even than all that, I know something else that the Baal Shem and the Maggid and the rest of them knew.

I know that there is something that needs to be done.

A task which summons our attention and our best efforts.

And what is that task?

The same as it has always been.

 

We live in a world where the unfettered call of materialism spreads misery and threatens to rip the soul out of human beings, turning us into productive units, overpaid hamsters spinning our way round and round and not really getting anywhere.

We live in a world where religious idolatry – fundamentalism – has succeeded in destroying the World Trade Centres and threatens so much more horror.

Ve’ele toldot some things change and some just stay the same.

We are still the inheritors of Avraham avinu who broke the false idols of faux religious piety and struck out on a journey towards a life with decency, integrity and kindness.

The task is still not done.

The story is not at an end.

 

D’ika anna

I know this story.

I know its past and I think I know its future.

A future I want to share with you all.

If you will do me that honour.

Shabbat shalom,

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[1] Bereishit Rabba 60:16

[2] Sotah 49b