Your Royal Highness, if I may, Dear Will and Kate

I am sorry not to able to attend your wedding this weekend.

I know you will have, among the assembled dignitaries, my colleagues Rabbis Lord Sacks and Bayfield and I know also that they have given you a pair of Sabbath candlesticks – to bring light into your married life together, and a donation to your Charitable Fund – to allow you to begin your married life by bettering the lot of others.

Both wonderful gifts.

I’m sure there will be many others.

Let me offer a different kind of gift, one costing nothing and simultaneously of a value beyond pearls; some words of Torah.

 

A Jewish wedding comes in two parts; ‘Kiddushin’ and ‘Nisuin.’ They suggest very different approaches to the value and nature of a marriage.

 

‘Kiddushin,’ usually translated as ‘betrothal’ shares an etymology with the Hebrew word for Holy (as in the angels’ cry from Isaiah, made even more famous by Handel’s setting, ‘Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord of Hosts’). But as much as you might worship the ground each other walk on, holiness, in matters divine or matrimonial, is not about being impressed with the other. It is about setting the other apart. God, we believe, is wholly other to any other force or power in the Universe and allowing any other force or power to occupy any of the absolute sanctity that is owed only to God is considered to break one of the Ten Commandments – the prohibition against idolatry.

So too a marital partner, through this act of Kiddushin, becomes set apart, unique demanding an exclusivity of emotion and action. Allowing any other possible partner to intrude on the absolute fidelity owed to a betrothed spouse is considered to break another of the Ten Commandments – the prohibition against adultery.

The temptations are many and it may well be that we humans struggle with monogamy, but this is the insistence of Bible both Jews and Christians hold dear. This commitment to Kiddushin, a unique, separated relationship made to the exclusion of all others is the essential sine qua non without which marriage has no meaning.

 

‘Nisuin’ – the second part of a Jewish wedding shares an etymological root with the word for bearing a burden. During our most special days of prayer, Jews pray to God, ‘nosei avon avot’ – who bore away the sins of our ancestors, and us. Marriage is about the sharing of a burden or, more personally, shouldering the burdens carried by the other. The story is told of one of the great Rabbinic leaders of the last century, Aryeh Levine, who arrived one day in the doctor’s surgery next to his wife, ‘Doctor,’ he said, ‘my wife’s foot is hurting us.’ Married life should bring wonderful rewards and glorious opportunities for celebration, both this weekend and in the years to come, but the test of the strength of a marriage is not measured by the length of a wedding train, the fragrance of blooms or even the sweet words you will share stood at the altar. It is measured by your willingness and success in shouldering the burdens of the other over years and decades to come.

 

I wish you a lifetime of love and happiness together, may you live up to the mighty expectations incumbent upon those who, one day, will come to the throne of this great country. But may you never forget that a wedding is better judged by the exclusivity of one great relationship and the sharing of intimate burdens, than any of the wonders that await you this coming weekend. Remembering this will make you a better husband and wife, Prince and Princess and man and woman.

 

Yours,

 

Rabbi Jeremy Gordon

 

 

Freedom Through Time and Space

 

It’s getting late on Thursday evening.

The choice is more work in the kitchen or these weekly words.

A slave to the kitchen or a slave to the word processor.

 

I’m reminded of a line in the Haftorah read on this Shabbat before Pesach – a Haftorah traditionally read by a congregation’s Rabbi (another piece of preparation) - ‘I shall see what there is between they who serve God and they who do not serve Him’ (Malachi 3: 18).

The esteemed choice, in Malachi, is the choice to serve, not the choice not to serve

We don’t leave slavery in Egypt to become free of responsibility, to become free of having to serve.

We remain servants even in our freedom. What changes is the Master. Context is, indeed, everything.

 

Hard work is fine; freedom is calculated not in terms of the amount of effort expended, but by means of a wholly different measure. As I work on my own kitchen I think about Passover through time, previous kitchens – the first flat I paid rent on, the first place I owned. My mind wanders back through the generations, the Sedarim I knew as child, and further back still. I’ve been looking over the Rambam’s laws of Hametz u’Matzah. Rambam refers to all kinds of ancient dishes, strange milk and floury plates of foods we’ve long since stopped making.

 

I’ve been thinking about Passover over space. I think of my family stripping away the Chametz in Bath or Jerusalem. There was a fun moment in the office this week when our Sephardi administrator mentioned her tradition of hitting people over the head with spring onions during the Seder.

 

It’s not slavery when you are not doing it alone, it’s not slavery when the preparations for Pesach are part of folding into a chain of history that spans continents and millennia. Instead, for me at least, it’s the experience of shared ‘avodah’ that feels like freedom.

 

I wish one and all a happy and kosher Pesach,

Chag Kasher V’Sameach,

 

(and do please make every effort to join us in Shul for weekday Yom Tov services, it would be wonderful to see really strong Minyanim for these days of celebrations)

 

Rabbi Jeremy  

Belt Braces and Something Else

Pesach is just over two weeks away. First night seder 18^th April. Let me share this extract from the New London Pesach Guide.

 

The Rabbis offer a three stage way of ensuring that a home is free of Chametz for the Festival.

 

First you should remove any Chametz. A good spring clean is a lovely thing to do, but the standard of the Rabbis is not Chametz – Armageddon, but rather removal of Chametz crumbs larger than the size of an olive. Chametz is food made with the five grains wheat, barley, spelt, rye and oats mixed with water which has risen. Other foods, even foods which we would not eat on Pesach (for example rice, for Ashkenazim) do not need to be removed, they can simply be put aside, or sealed in a cupboard.

 

Next you should perform a ‘bittul’ – nullification. This is done twice, once during the search for Chametz (Sunday 17^th April at sundown) and once on Monday morning (before around 10 a.m.). The formula can be recited in English as follows:

‘All Chametz in my possession, whether I have seen it or not, whether I have removed it or not, shall be nullified and be ownerless as the dust of the earth.’

This is a key part of the preparation process. Even if you have cleaned perfectly, it should be said.

 

Finally, you should authorize me, or another Rabbi, to perform a Mechirah – or sale to a non-Jew –of any Chametz you do not wish to nullify or throw away. This is an extraordinary leniency from the Rabbis, bending over to make Pesach less onerous and less costly. It is designed to allow us to hang on to bottles of whiskey etc. It has been mocked, but I always delight in the flexibility and sensitivity this notion allows. I would recommend it even if you think you have cleaned perfectly and you don’t think you have anything physical to sell. To sell Chametz you must contact me to let me know that you wish me to sell your Chametz. Please do this in writing (e-mail is best rabbi@newlondon.org.uk) using the following form of words.

You should then put the Chametz in a sealed container or room and leave it until after 10pm the night that Passover goes out.

 

‘I authorise Rabbi Jeremy Gordon, or any agent appointed by him, to sell all Hametz in my possession, whether held knowingly or unknowingly, whether in an admixture or otherwise. This permission applies to all Hametz at the address [complete as appropriate].’

 

A happy and Kosher Pesach to all,

 

Shabbat shalom,

 

Rabbi Jeremy

Jews and Food - Gefiltefest II

Last summer I spoke at the first Gefiltefest.

It was fabulous.

 

For anyone interested in Jews, Food and intersection ‘twixt one and ‘tother I can’t recommend it highly enough.

 

Info including booking info below,

 

 

Hi everyone,
 
Tickets for Gefiltefest: The London Jewish Food Festival are now on sale!  If you buy soon you'll save £5 per ticket.  The line-up of more than 40 speakers is on the LJCC website, at:  http://www.ljcc.org.uk/events/1523-gefiltefest-at-ivy-house.html 
 
Alternatively, look at Facebook event 'Gefiltefest' or www.gefiltefest.org.uk.  The date of the event is Sunday, May 22nd.
 
The list of speakers is growing but already includes Dame Hilary Blume, Rabbi Shoshana Boyd Gelfand, Alexei Charkham, Linda Dangoor, Rabbi Jeremy Gordon, Judy Jackson, Maureen Kendler, Rabbi Natan Levy, Silvia Nacamulli, Lisa Roukin, Lindsey Taylor-Guthartz, Fabienne Viner-Luzzato and Rabbi Jonathan Wittenberg.
 
We're raising money for a range of food-related charities so please forward this email on to anyone who might be interested - in coming, eating, or helping out.
 
Many thanks,

 

Michael

 

 

Rabbi Jeremy Gordon

New London Synagogue

0207 328 1026

www.newlondon.org.uk

 

Sermons, Blogs and Thoughts

http://www.rabbionanarrowbridge.blogspot.com/

 

When is a Shankbone not a Shankbone?

Ask a child what the Zeroa, or shankbone, on the Seder Plate is supposed to represent and they should say something about the lamb whose blood was daubed on the doorposts of the Children of Israel. If they were particularly impressive they might say something about the command that the Pascal sacrifice be roasted, hence the roasting of our Seder Plate Zeroa. That’s entirely correct, but there is another valence which only makes sense in the Hebrew.

 

When we tell the story of Exodus we speak of a God who acted with a ‘strong hand and an outstretched arm.’ (Deut 26:8) And the Hebrew word translated here as ‘arm’ is our friend ‘Zeroa.’ In other words the shankbone sitting on the Seder plate is also a reminder of God’s outstretched arm arrayed before us as we eat our Matzah and drink our four cups. If you understand Hebrew it’s so obvious as to already be buried in one’s understanding. If Hebrew is entirely foreign it’s an impossible insight to discover.

 

Translation, said the great Hebrew poet Bialik, is like kissing a bride through her veil. Approaching the Hebrew texts of our tradition without Hebrew means that we will forever feel separated from them.

 

This is the insight behind the adult education classes we are offering on the next two Sunday mornings (10:30am in the Rabbi’s Office). We will read the Hagadah for understanding. What does the Hebrew actually mean? How does the grammar work and, most importantly, what are the insights that understanding the Hebrew will bring for us. Hebrew’s a simple language, fewer letters than English and far, far less exceptions and complex grammatical rules. These Sunday classes are designed for people who can read, but can’t decode simple Hebrew sentences. I hope you will enjoy them.

 

Shabbat shalom,

 

Rabbi Jeremy

 

Purim - And A Certain Kind of Jew

Purim is But Days Away

(Maariv 7pm Saturday evening, Shacharit 10:15am)

 

I’m returning, in this week’s Weekly Words to Elliot Horowitz’s work on Purim, Reckless Rites.

 

Horowitz charts how Christian scholars would decry the Book of Ester, particularly the violence committed by Jews in the latter chapters. The American Christian scholar Lewis Paton suggested that the book shows, ‘a malignant spirit of revenge more akin to the teaching of the Talmud than to the teaching of the Old Testament.’ He went on to suggest ‘The Book is so conspicuously lacking in religion that is should never have been included in the Canon of the O.T.’’ Charming. And both deeply offensive and completely wrong both as an analysis of the Hebrew Bible and the Talmud.

 

Horowitz also digs out a 1948 commentary by a Danish Christian scholar Aage Bentzen which suggests Ester behaved reprehensibly in concealing her true identity a Jew. It’s a criticism Horowitz suggests is obtuse coming ‘shortly after his country emerged from four years of Nazi occupation.’ Then there is the Methodist commentary, by W.L. Northridge (1937) which suggests Ester revealed ‘Jewish vindictiveness at its worst’ … setting [in] contrast [the] unworthy elements in Judaism and the Christian spirit of love to all.’ Herbert Loewe responded ‘What seems so terrible in Dr Northridge’s arguments is the fact that they were written in 1937 when current events should have taught him to take a different view.’ If the book of Ester, Loewe continues, does indeed typify ‘Jewish vindictiveness at its worst’ shall we go on to say that Hitler’s barbarity typifies ‘Christian vindictiveness at its worst?’

 

What is going on? I suggest these Christian scholars find it tricky to know what to do with an ‘uppity’ Jew. I remember my first trip to New York where I passed a hotdog seller on the street whose vending station was emblazoned with a Kashrut certification – Gevalt. Then I overheard the seller accusing a purchaser of ‘trying to Jew me.’ There is a certain kind of antisemitism that doesn’t mind Jews, as long as we make falafel, tell good jokes and don’t cause trouble. That’s not really fair. Judaism is indeed a religion of sweetness, charity and love. But it is also a religion (and indeed a people and a history) featuring clandestine schemes perpetrated just to survive and, even, occasional outbursts of violence. Jews are normal people too. And for me Purim, with all its recklessness, is the festival which gives voice to these other, less sweet, parts of our history and our selves. The good news is that we know it’s only a story. We live out our fantasies of triumph overcoming threat in the pages of a great tale that turns on the fall of the lot, we don’t launch pogroms or exterminations. Then, once this day passes, we get on with the more serious business of preparing the world for the overthrow of oppression (Pesach) and the revelation of God’s loving kindness (Shavuot).

 

Shabbat Shalom and Purim Sameach,

 

Rabbi Jeremy

 

Purim - To Stand Firm or To Look Away?

 

 

I’ve been reading Elliot Horowitz’s excellent ‘Reckless Rites: Purim and the Legacy of Jewish Violence.’^[1] It’s inspired this analysis.

 

The very last verse of the Book of Ester reads ‘[Mordechai] ratzui lerov achav.’

While the sense of the verse is surely captured by the acceptable translation ‘Mordechai was accepted by the multitude of his brothers,’ a hyper-literal translation suggests he was ‘accepted by a majority of his brothers.’ In other words a minority refused to accept Mordechai. (The trials of trying to lead Jews).

 

Horowitz notes the French scholar Joseph Kara (born around 1060) commented that there were those who ‘maligned Mordechai by saying, ‘Look what he did to us, for he provoked Haman and on his account we would have been sold to be destroyed, slain and annihilated, were it not for God.’’ The provocation, of course, was the refusal to bow. Surely Mordechai could have just ducked his head, pretended to tie up his shoe-laces; surely he didn’t have to anger a haughty, massively powerful antisemite? Even the great Spanish commentator, Abraham Ibn Ezra wondered why Mordechai had ‘insisted on endangering his own life and the lives of other Jews by flagrantly refusing to bow down before him, rather than discreetly leaving the vicinity when he saw Haman approaching.’

 

 The question of ducking or discreetly looking away versus standing proud in the face of a challenge is perhaps most sharp at the time of Purim. Ester is the Biblical book most ‘in the face’ of the surrounding culture. It’s uncompromising, defiant pugnacious and vicious. There is, as Kohelet might have said, a time to look away and a time to stand firm. And Purim is the time to stand firm. There is certainly something to stand firm against. I am no scare-mongerer when it comes to the spectre of anti-Semitism in this country but I am feeling increasingly uneasy at the shifting way in which Jews are being expected to look down and look away, particularly from defending Israel in this country. Norman Lebrecht put it very well, in his analysis of the John Galliano debacle in last week’s Jewish Chronicle.

 

‘Outbursts such as Galliano's do not sprout spontaneously. They are nurtured by a climate in which casual antisemitic utterances have become increasingly prevalent - indeed, acceptable, so long as they are couched within the context of the Israel-Palestine conflict.

‘Jews are held to account as presumed extensions of Israeli occupation policy in a way that, for example, overseas Chinese are not held responsible for Beijing's occupation of Tibet. A Norwegian colleague was challenged on television to condemn Israeli policy before her views on social harmony could be heard. I, too, after discussing the cultural implications of the Galliano affair on BBC Breakfast was beset by emails demanding that I take a position on Gaza - as if one were related to the other.

‘This is new antisemitism, 2011-style. The requirement that Jews must in some way atone for Israeli deeds and misdeeds is the latest manifestation of two millennia of crucifixion guilt. It is a pervasive atmosphere and one that disinhibited a dress designer from allegedly extolling the extermination of Jews.’^[2]

 

This is not the time to discreetly walk away.

 

 

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^[1] http://seforim.blogspot.com/2006/04/review-of-reckless-rites.html

^[2] http://www.thejc.com/node/46066