5:2 (Yom Kippur Drasha)

Nothing really compares to seeing a famous person you’ve heard of in a theatre setting.

We experienced such an occasion at The Alban Arena in St. Albans on Wednesday evening, 6^th February 2019.  To a thunderous applause, we watched him walk or rather hobble onto the stage (he’d damaged his foot).  The next few hours flew by as he entertained and educated us in his inimitable and original manner.  It was a wonderful show.  Little did any of us know that just over five years later, his life would end in tragic circumstances at the early age of sixty-seven.

To be honest, I didn’t know a great deal about Dr Michael Mosley beyond the fact that Stephnie was familiar with his ideas and had his book, ‘The Fast Diet: The Secret of Intermittent Fasting – Lose Weight, Stay Healthy, Live Longer.’ in the pile on her bedside night-table.  Having read the tome and followed his advice, she had tried the diet and recommended the same to me.

I lasted a whole week and decided that it wasn’t ‘my thing’.

Nevertheless, when she bought tickets for us to see the show, I willingly obliged.  After all, who would turn down the chance to see this ‘legend’ live on stage?

I’ve been reflecting on Dr Mosley’s dieting advice over the last few days.

I do appreciate that the last thing you probably want to think about on a fast day is anything to do with food and apologise if I upset anyone…particularly on the Day of Atonement but please hear me out on this.

Dr Mosley’s theory has created quite a controversy amongst medical experts.  I don’t know enough about the science behind it to be able to comment either way regarding its effectiveness in a positive or negative manner on an individual’s health.

On the 5:2 or as it is more commonly known ‘Fast Diet’, you eat ‘normally’ (whatever that means) for five days of the week and eat considerably less or as it is termed ‘fast’ for the other two, consuming 500 to 600 calories per day.  You are not allowed to ‘fast’ for two days consecutively.

The reason I’m thinking about this ‘Fast Diet’ is the fact that this week has seen me, and many others take his advice rather more seriously than he had envisaged.  On Sunday, I fasted, and until 7pm ingested zero calories.  Today, I’m continuing the fast I began last night!  In other words, I have eaten for five days and am fasting for two.

I’d like to think that the good doctor might be quite proud of me, but I believe I would be doing him a disservice if I ended my sermon here.  Dr Mosley built his career on trying to improve the health of the nation but in the end, died in the most tragic of circumstances.  For someone who had prided himself on helping others to ‘find their way’ to better health, he literally lost his by taking the wrong path after leaving the Greek town of Pedi.  It was later discovered that he had passed away only 100 yards from a beach bar.  Achingly close but tragically, not nearby enough to be rescued.  That his four children had searched the area previously and might have been able to find him (even though it was probably too late), added to the poignancy of the situation.

Which brings me to this holy day when we are fasting (perhaps twice in a week) and considering our decisions and activities throughout the previous year.  Last September, when Yom Kippur ended and we felt relieved that it was ‘over for another year’, did we set out on a journey home from Shul with thoughts in our head about how we would make the most of the coming months?

Did we envisage that just over a year later, we too might have lost our way, maybe not literally, but figuratively?  The trips we planned to Israel may not take place.  The Sedarim we attended would feel like nothing we’d ever experienced before.  The streets we were used to walking along may suddenly appear unsafe and threatening.  Right now, our journey as Jews feels as precipitous as the one Dr Mosley undertook on 5^th June.

The roller-coaster we have all endured since Shmini Atzeret doesn’t seem to be ending and we are going around and around, wondering what lies beyond the next corner.

Which is why this Yom Kippur, of all the ones we have lived through, is so important.  It is our 5:2 day.

Five prayers spread over the entirety of Yom Kippur we spend in shul.  Last night we began our journey through the fast with the proclamation of Kol Nidre.  We liberated ourselves of the vows that we may have uttered over the last year.  What was done, was done.  This is a new year.  Last night was Part One.

Today, we are working our way through Part Two.

The Yizkor service binds our souls with those of our departed and much-loved relatives.  In unison, praying and hoping that this year, we will find our way home.

In all the day’s five tefillot, we beat our chests together as one nation, admitting that although we tried our best to be our best, we didn’t achieve as much as we thought we could have done last year.

We want to be the finest versions of ourselves that we can aspire to be.  To atone, not only for us but also for all those who are unable to reach a shul.  We are their emissaries and their mouthpiece to the King of Kings on this second part of our journey.  The one which will take us through to the final shofar blast this evening.

For those of our nation who are in hospital or bedridden at home.  For the hostages in Gaza, for the soldiers who can’t attend shul because they are risking their lives throughout the day and beyond to protect our holy country.

This is our 5:2 day – whichever way you feel it can be.

In memory of those who didn’t survive including the Kedoshim/holy souls who were murdered throughout the last year.  In remembering others, including Dr Mosley whose souls returned to their maker, we need to dedicate ourselves to using this day to pray for them and hope that in turn, they will intercede with Gd on our behalf.

May Hashem answer our prayers and help every one of us find the safest path to the ‘home’ we want to live in over the next year.

Today, on Yom Kippur, we are all observing the ‘Fast Diet’.  May it provide us with the spiritual and physical ‘nourishment’ we need to ensure that when Yom Kippur 5786 arrives, this troubled world in which we live will be a much more peaceful and safer home for all of us.

Amen.

Gmar Chatima Tovah.

Rosh Hashanah I: One People - One Heart

 It honestly seems like yesterday.

Last year, on 16^th September, the first day of Rosh Hashanah, I stood on this exact spot and towards the end of my sermon read the following words:
‘Today, I stand alongside you, sincerely hoping that your own year books will contain the best of everything that the forthcoming Jewish year (which contains 13 months) can provide us with.  We need the kind of days that brightened up my June and August so that we can appreciate how blessed we are to be alive, to have family and friends who love us and be in possession of the financial security to help us negotiate these difficult times.’

The ‘June’ I referred to was of course the wonderful day we spent together marking the Cheltenham Hebrew Congregation’s bicentennial.  The ‘August’ recalled the wedding of my eldest daughter, Hadassah.

Twenty-one days after I delivered that Sermon - on Shmini Atzeret - we know exactly what happened.

‘so that we can appreciate how blessed we are to be alive, to have family and friends who love us…’

How can anyone in Israel utter these words without breaking down, considering the blackest, bloodiest and bleakest day in the eighty years that have transpired since the end of the Shoah?  How can any Jewish person outside of the Land of Israel not wonder whether they too might have been one of the thousands killed or kidnapped?  Furthermore, even if they weren’t amongst the casualties, perhaps their child was fighting in Gaza or in the North.

Shortly, during the repetition of the Musaf Amida, we will recite one of the most stirring and, if I may add, terrifying prayers in the entire High Holidays liturgy:

'On Rosh Hashanah it is written and on Yom Kippur it is sealed:

how many will pass away and many will be born;

who will live and who will die;

who in his due time and who before;

who by water and who by fire;

who by sword and who by beast;

who of hunger and who of thirst…

…who by strangling and who by stoning…'

(taken from the Sacks Koren Rosh Hashanah Machzor page 568).

How many of the descriptions in the paragraph can we ascribe to the barbarity that was inflicted on our nation and others by a cruel, sadistic and savage enemy on 7th October?  How many relate to the treatment of the hostages – both those who were murdered or are still surviving in tunnels or cages that are hardly large enough to enable a human being to stand up properly?

My father passed away in July of last year just over a month before his 95th birthday.  There is not a day that goes by where I don’t miss him and wish he were still here but can I honestly claim that he died before his ‘due time’?

Can we say the same about Hersh (23), Eden (24), Ori (25), Almog (27), Alexander (33), Carmel (40), Jake (26) (my friend’s cousin and stepdaughter’s peer from JFS) who was a security guard at the Nova festival?  Did they die before their ‘due time’?

Seeing what happened to them and many of the others who attended the Nova festival on that day (including Hersh) in the unforgettable recent Israeli documentary aired on BBC 2 ‘Surviving October 7th: We Will Dance Again’ was horrific, shocking and heart-breaking.

How about the over 300 IDF soldiers killed in Gaza?  Some of them are around the same age as my children and stepchildren.  Did they too die before their time?

Nearly a year ago, Jo Woolfe started an initiative in her Hampstead Garden Suburb home.  Every week with a team of volunteers, she packs 2000 pairs of blue tea lights in pouches along with a photograph of a hostage containing their name and age, a prayer for their release and also for those who have been released.  She has taken them to shops and schools.  (https://www.thejc.com/community/one-womans-mission-to-keep-the-flame-alive-for-the-hostages-j29nx7c7).

Back in November, I picked up a pack which contained Hersh Goldberg-Polin’s name and adopted him as my ‘guest for shabbat’.  Every Friday night when I was in Staines, I laid the table for the two of us.  Hersh and I waited for him to be freed.

When the horrific news came through, I decided to continue the practice because I realised that, as per his mother Rachel’s heart-breaking hesped/eulogy at his gravesite, Hersh was now truly free and for the first time since his capture, could join me at my Shabbat table.

In Judaism, there is a concept called ‘kol Yisrael areivim ze la ze’.  It means that ‘every single Jew is responsible for every other Jew’.  Whether or not they want us to be and when we recite the prayer that I am referencing, we are relating it to each and every man, woman and child who has been impacted by the events that have shaped this past year.

And I believe it is this aspect of religion that has been a catalyst in determining the other side of the year.  I have lost count of the number of Psalms I have been reciting since October, both in a minyan or by myself.

Since the start of the war, we have witnessed some events that are so extraordinary that they defy rational explanation.  In April, Iran sent over 300 drones, missiles and other devices with the intention of causing as much carnage as they could to Israel.  The vast majority didn’t reach their destination as a troupe of Israeli, American, British, French and Jordanian (!) air forces knocked them out of the sky.  Yes, the Jordanian Air Force protected Israel.  Let’s just think about that for a moment and last Tuesday’s missile attack did not result in a single Israeli death.

The Israeli secret services comprising of the Mossad and Shin Bet managed to eliminate the head of Hamas in a room in Iran along with the top brass of Hezbollah Commanders in Lebanon and of course their evil leader.

A few hostages were rescued in some military operations that could have formed set-pieces in Hollywood action movies and as for the exploding pagers, walkie-talkies and solar panels…what can one say?

For me personally, the most powerful and positive memories I have of the post October 7th pogrom/massacre, focus on the unity that pervaded (sadly for too short a time) both and Israel and outside the country.  Where the slogan of ‘Am Yisrael Chai’ became our buzzword.  Predictably though, soon enough, our people reverted to recreate the divisions that we are all accustomed to. These have sadly returned.

Which brings me back to the prayer that I referenced at the start of this sermon.            I strongly believe that everything positive that has taken place has come about because of the unity we show when we pray together.  When we support each other emotionally.  When we support the State of Israel and its institutions financially.  When we unite to defend Israel and by extension the Jewish People against those who literally hate us and wish us death; those who march menacingly through our streets; threaten our university students both in the United States and the UK whilst the authorities stand by and do nothing.  Sometimes even joining their ranks.

The prayer ends with a formula that can bring about a reversal in our fortune.

'Uteshuva – Utefila – Utzedaka - Ma’avirin et Ro’ah Hagezeira'

'But repentance, prayer and giving to charity– avert the evil decree.'

Even in our darkest hour, we have not given up hope and there have been glimmers of light when we thought that all was lost.

This Rosh Hashana, we need to focus our every effort to effect change.  We have seen what can happen when we unite and use the weapons that have made up our spiritual arsenal for thousands of years, such as reciting Psalms.

It is never too late to give Tzedaka to Israeli charities that are literally providing a lifeline to our brothers and sisters across the Mediterranean Sea.

If we redouble our efforts to speak with one voice and become once again ‘am echad be’lev echad’ – ‘one people – one heart’ – as we witnessed at Sinai, this brand-new year of 5785 may end up being an opposite of its predecessor.

May Gd protect the State of Israel, the IDF and all Israeli security forces and may we see the return of the hostages very soon.  May He bring peace back to our beloved land and frustrate the plans of our enemies.

I couldn’t think of a more appropriate prayer on this Day of Judgement.

Shanah Tova Umetuka – may we all be blessed with a sweet year and a successful inscription in the Book of Life. 

Rosh Hashanah II: Reframing Our Perspectives

 I was born and raised in the heilige/holy Jewish bastion that is known throughout the world as Golders Green.  Some people, who I assume are envious of those of us blessed to originate from this vibrant north-west London suburb, refer unkindly to my stomping ground as ‘Goldbergs Green’.  I suspect there is a not a small amount of antisemitic sentiment in this moniker.  Nevertheless, it was the place in which I spent the latter part of the sixties, entire seventies and the eighties.  To me it was home and I suspect always will be (even though I no longer live there).

I also appreciate the sentiment of those of us who sang the refrain from the Beatles’ long lost classic anthem, which went along the lines of, “We all live in a house in Golders Green.”  Many of you will be unaware that George Harrison (of Blessed Memory) did in fact write and record a song (in the style of Carl Perkins) called ‘Going Down to Golders Green’ with the following refrain:

Goin' down to Golders Green

Goin' down to Golders Green

Goin' down to Golders Green in my limousine.

I don’t know why it didn’t make it onto the charts!  However, you can hear the song at https://youtu.be/l3UMLb4inzg?si=Nb5m3DUEU6sK6Tsu.  

It’s one of those undiscovered classics.

As usual, Stephnie calls this my ‘Ronnie Corbett’ moment.

Back to Golders Green.

Growing up, my father’s synagogue of choice was a small Chassidic shtiebel situated in the heart of the community; we lived at the posher and in those days, less frum/orthodox Temple Fortune end.  The building was a converted detached house where the men sat cramped together in pews on the ground floor whilst the ladies were situated upstairs in a room directly above us.  In the centre of that room was a square area of the floor that had been removed and was surrounded by a black ornate grille.  The poor ladies had to contend with sitting as close as possible to the centre to hear what was going on beneath them.  It was quite a primitive setup to say the least!

The services were led by members of the Kehilla/Community and it was all very informal.

This was the shul we prayed in every Shabbat, week in and week out.  As a young child I didn’t know any better and many of my school friends also attended services there.

Every year when Rosh Hashanah rolled around, I dreaded going to the shul.  We would sit there for hours.  Just before the blowing of the Shofar (or it might have been Musaf), the young Rebbe and his elderly father who was also a Rebbe would disappear for an hour or so to immerse in the local mikvah whilst we waited for them to return.  The offshoot of this meant that the services never finished before about four o’clock in the afternoon.

Before I had discovered the age-old custom of comparing shul-finishing times on Rosh Hashanah – what is it about we Jews that we feel the need to boast about how late our services end on Rosh Hashanah or the length of our Pesach Sedarim? – in my pre-Bar Mitzvah mind, Rosh Hashanah services had to end really and I mean really late.  After all, wasn’t this the practice in every shul in the vicinity?

Apparently not.

Starting secondary school, I made new friends and at the start of the school year, asked one about the timings at his shul which happened to be nearer to where we lived.  He replied that they wrapped up services at half past one.

“Half past one?” I replied incredulously.

“What time do you begin in the morning?”

“Eight o’clock,” he responded nonchalantly.

“That’s the same time we do too!” I replied.

As it turned out, their Rabbi didn’t feel the need to go for a dip at around midday (accompanied by dad) and they just got on with the service.  Shockingly, as far as I was concerned, I came to realise that had they followed my shul’s customs, their members would have probably walked out a long time before the end of proceedings!

It won’t come as a surprise that I begged my father to move shuls, which he reluctantly agreed to.  As it happened, this coincided with the passing of my grandfather and, as a non-driver, my father preferred the proximity of this shul as he walked there on a daily basis to recite Kaddish.

The point of all of this is to explain how my perspective of Orthodox Jewish life was framed by the limited exposure I had encountered through attending a single shul with its unique ‘order of play’ as it were on Rosh Hashanah.  There was nothing wrong with this and I appreciate that the people who went there did so in the full knowledge that this was how Rosh Hashanah prayers were meant to be conducted.

Changing shuls enabled me to adjust my perspective, reframe my thoughts and see things in a different light.  Eventually, I moved on from this second shul which was also shtiebel-like in the sense that the men sat facing each other on long tables in a similarly informal setting.  To this day, I am automatically drawn to this sort of layout when it comes to attending shul.  Given the choice of sitting in the main building in my own seat or joining the alternative service in the Beit Hamidrash (a small room used for study), I will also opt for the latter as this is the environment in which I grew up in.

I believe that this idea of reframing our perspectives can be taken further and applied to our religion as a whole.

On Rosh Hashanah, Gd judges the entire world but it’s just the Jews who have the privilege of representing humanity to the King of Kings.  We are made in all different shapes and forms.  Some of us or short, others tall.  There are men, women, young and old, white, brown and black skinned.  Shuls for every denomination in every denomination.  The various services finish at different times throughout the day but it’s okay because that’s what the people have signed up for.  Some folks don’t observe the festival and go to work whilst others stay at home.  Does this make them better or worse Jews than those whose belief system means that for shul to matter, it has to last until 4.00 pm?

In light of everything that has transpired in the last decade from Corbyn onwards, I have tried to reframe my perspective and become less judgemental regarding others in our small tribe.  This doesn’t mean that I am willing to compromise on Halachic precepts (such as one’s Jewish status following the maternal line) but it has resulted in my trying to view concepts that I might have thought unthinkable in a softer light than in the past.

At this juncture, over the festival that quite literally ‘heads’ up the Jewish year, my prayer is one that refers to all Jews.  May Gd protect us from our enemies both in this country and abroad and especially in our beloved State of Israel.  May He give us the ability to work together in unison so that those who wish to harm us have their plans frustrated and ultimately abandoned.

In Israel, our brethren have suffered because they let their perspectives be blurred by understandable fear and desperation.  Right now, we, the Jewish People need clarity more than any other time since the end of the Shoah.  We need to reframe our perspectives and work together to bring about the return of the hostages, the defeat of our enemies and the ultimate realisation of a world that reframes its perspective as to who the real enemy is.  In doing so, recognising the legitimacy of the world’s only Jewish State as saviour of the western world.

May it happen in the very near future.

Shanah Tova Umetukah.

Parashat Ki Teitzei: Beneath The Skin

Our obsession with the beauty of the human form stretches back virtually to the dawn of civilization.  

Predating the Renaissance by a couple of millennia, the ancient Greeks extolled its splendour by initiating the Olympic games.  Participants had to be natives, non-slaves and dressed in their birthday suits (and nothing else).

In her film of the 1936 Olympics entitled ‘Olympia’, Leni Riefenstahl, Hitler’s favourite director captured the naked athletes promoting the Nazi ideal of Aryan superiority. In doing so, she deliberately echoed the ancient Greeks’ ‘celebration of physical form’ 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olympia_%281938_film%29. 

You may legitimately wonder why beauty should not be appreciated in the way it was intended. After all, is this not how Gd created us?

On 14th December 1613, Sir Thomas Overbury, an English poet and essayist was murdered whilst imprisoned in the Tower of London awaiting trial. The background to his assassination is beyond the scope of this Drasha but his death led to a scandalous trial which implicated no less a person than King James I.

Suffice to say that a significant catalyst leading to his murder lay in an infamous poem he had recently written entitled “The Wife” which 

(according to Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Overbury) ‘depicted the virtues that a young man should demand of a woman’. The 16th stanza states:

'And all the carnall beauty of my wife,

Is but skin-deep, but to two senses known;

Short even of pictures, shorter liv’d then life,

And yet the love survives, that’s built thereon:

For our imagination is too high,

For bodies when they meet, to satisfie.'

This is the first recorded contemporary example of the idea of ‘beauty being skin-deep’.

Of course, this notion was not new. Sir Thomas may have had Isaiah (53.2) in mind as the Prophet described Gd,

'He came up like a tender shoot before Him, like a slip from a desert land; he has no appearance or manifest glory, no beauty for us to desire.'

Every Friday night, we recite Eshet Chayil, taken from Mishlei/Proverbs which extolls the virtues of our exemplary wives. We say,' Charm is false and beauty is empty breath; a woman who fears the L-rd, she is praiseworthy.'

Sir Thomas Overbury, Isaiah and King Solomon in these observations are questioning the very notion that we have or rather should have of what beauty really means.

Predating the above, this week’s Parasha describes the following scenario:

'When you wage war against your enemies and the L-rd your Gd gives them into your hand and you take captives, if you see a beautiful woman among the captives and you desire her and wish to marry her, bring her to your house. Have her shave her head, pare her nails and remove her captive’s garb. She shall sit in your house mourning for her father and mother for a full month. Only after that may you go in to her and be her husband and she shall be your wife. But if you no longer desire her, you must let her go free. You may not sell her for money or treat her as a slave since you have dishonoured her. (21.10-15)'

In these five verses, the Torah has commanded us to act in a manner that is totally counter-intuitive to human behaviour. Particularly if we contrast this with the description that I provided at the start of my Drasha.

One does not need to have much imagination to understand what it would feel like to be the male victor in a battle. You have defeated the enemy and everything and everyone that they valued is now within your control, including a beautiful and vulnerable female captive. She is literally defenceless. 

You could do with her as your will and indulge your lustful urges. We don’t need to look too far to witness the behaviour of blood-soaked warriors with respect to the women they captured, do we? 

The Torah understands what could take place whereupon you see the woman and immediately instructs the soldier to treat her compassionately (‘bring her to your house and allow her to mourn her parents demise’ – which was presumably extremely brutal) whilst simultaneously deglamourizing her through shaving her head and paring her nails. To the point that she is no longer the ‘beautiful woman that you saw amongst the captives.’ She has removed her captive’s garb, but she is unattainable to you.

The Ramban explains that by going through this process, the soldier will tame his yetzer hara (evil inclination) and hopefully view her inner beauty over the period of the thirty days she mourns her parents. Additionally, dealing with the trauma she has endured will not be compounded with the fear that she may be taken advantage of.

The Malbim elaborates on the Ramban’s commentary underscoring the topic of this Drasha, that beauty is not merely ‘skin-deep’. He explains that the Laws we read in the Torah are designed to cultivate within us a sense of moral and spiritual appreciation instead of focusing on external appearances. By withholding the captive from him, The Torah forces the warrior to spend time valuing her inner beauty. To the point that if he rejects her upon the completion of her ‘shloshim’ (thirty days), she unconditionally regains her freedom. If he can’t ‘see’ her beauty beyond a superficial level, he is not worthy of her.

This is a point that Rabbi Sacks ztl highlights. He says that in a world obsessed with superficial beauty, we must cultivate an appreciation for the inner qualities that matter. It behoves us to look beyond the surface and recognize the inherent dignity and worthiness of every individual. The Torah instructs us to love our neighbours like ourselves (ve’ahavta rea’cha kamocha’) and in doing so, create a society in which every person is valued for who they are.

True beauty is found beneath the skin. The Nazis used the concept of appearance to promote Aryan racial superiority over all others and we know what this led to. The ancient Greeks were similarly obsessed whilst at the same time intolerant of views that clashed with their belief system (as we know with reference to the Chanukah story). In both cases, these attitudes masked extremely destructive forces. In its understanding of human nature, the Torah impresses upon us the importance of recognising genuine beauty. The kind that exists beneath the skin, irrespective of its texture and colour. This message is as resonant in the 21st century as it was over three thousand years ago.

Because, unlike the quote – real beauty is anything but skin-deep.

Shavuah Tov.

Parashat Ekev: The Parachute Packers

Captain Charles (Charlie) Plumb, a US Navy fighter pilot who had flown 75 combat missions during the Vietnam War was having a quiet meal with his wife in a restaurant a few years ago.

During the evening, he was approached by a stranger who looked at him and said,

“You’re Plumb! You flew jet fighters in Vietnam from the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down!”

“How in the world did you know that?” asked Plumb.

“I packed your parachute,” the man replied. Plumb gasped in surprise and gratitude. The man pumped his hand and said, “I guess it worked!”

Plumb assured him, “It sure did. If your chute hadn’t worked, I wouldn’t be here today.”

(https://medium.com/jacob-morgan/this-is-the-true-story-of-charles-plumb-5eeb7eba334e)

Understandably Charlie spent a sleepless night thinking about this anonymous sailor.

Plumb says, “I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a navy uniform: a white hat, a bib in the back and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how many times I might have seen him and not even said, ‘Good morning, how are you?’ or anything, because, you see, I was a fighter pilot, and he was just a sailor.”

These days, Captain Charlie Plumb is a motivational speaker. He describes his experiences in the Navy and how he was shot down over Hanoi on his 75^th Mission only five days before what should have been the end of his tour of duty. He continues by detailing the way he was captured by the North Vietnamese and spent the next 2,103 days in captivity in a POW camp with his first cell being only eight foot long and eight foot wide.

You can view his story (which is quite harrowing at times) at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLTc0K77Q7w

Charlie realised how this man’s meticulous (and I would imagine quite tedious) task had literally saved his life. There he was in a cabin somewhere below deck carefully folding parachutes into a backpack attached to a harness. And that was it. He would finish one and start on the next and so on.

This vital work brought home to Captain Charles Plumb a profound and life changing lesson on how interconnected our lives are and how grateful we need to be for everything we have. Even the things that we consider to be inconsequential.

It’s a powerful lesson for us all.

Parashat Ekev continues the narrative started in Va’etchanan which describes Gd’s beneficence towards the Jewish people.

If, indeed, you heed these laws, always vigilant to keep them, the L-rd your Gd will keep with you the covenant and the love He forged on oath with your ancestors. He will love you, bless you and multiply you. He will bless the fruit of your womb and the fruit of your land, your grain and wine and oil, the calves of your herds and the lambs of your flock in the land that He swore to your ancestors to give you…. (7.12-13)

Moshe reminds and warns the people against the arrogance of believing that their success is solely due to their own efforts.

“You may say to yourself, ‘My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me.’ But remember the Lord your Gd, for it is He who gives you the ability to produce wealth” (8:17-18).

Rabbi Sacks ztl often spoke about the concept of “covenant and love” (brit ve-chessed). The covenant, he said, is a partnership between Gd and human beings, where each has responsibilities and obligations. Chessed, or loving-kindness, is the expression of that covenant in our actions towards each another.

In Judaism, we have a concept known as Hakarat Hatov which literally means ‘recognizing the good’ or as we refer to it – gratitude which is precisely the realisation that Captain Plumb had when he met that sailor.

Each of us has our own parachutes that were packed by someone else. Do we always recognise the time taken by the members of our community who go shopping to buy the delicacies that adorn our Kiddush Table? How about those who stand outside our shuls in the pouring rain and cold weather to ensure that we are safe? It might even be the young girl or the senior citizen at the cash till who packs our bag in a way that protects the more delicate items (such as eggs) that could easily be crushed or fall out of the bag.

The parachutes packers might be the drivers who travel all night and stay away from their loved ones to ensure that our fruit and vegetables reach their destination or the health care visitors and nurses who go out of their way to look after us. They might even be the people who stuff envelopes that enable us to attend polling stations or complete surveys.

Who is your parachute packer?

It is easy to take everything we have for granted but sometimes, we need to remember that the lives we lead are as plentiful and pleasant as they are precisely because of those people who spend time ‘packing our parachutes’.

And ultimately, we should remind ourselves that Gd is the ‘parachute packer’ who ensures that our crops receive the right amount of sunshine and rain to ensure that we have food on our tables whenever we wish.

Rabbi Sacks wrote:

“To be a Jew is to be a guardian of hope, a witness to the future, and a bearer of blessings.”

To be a ‘bearer of blessings’ we need to remind ourselves of those who are enabling us to do this. To recognise those in our communities, far and wide who pack our metaphorical parachutes.

May we carry these lessons forward, living lives of gratitude, responsibility, and loving-kindness to all. With all the negativity that surrounds us, we can play our part to make the world a kinder and more considerate place.

Perhaps, we might begin by packing somebody else’s ‘parachute’.

Shavuah Tov. 

Parashat Ve'etchanan: Our Moral Compass

Last week, I took a trip which led to my being momentarily airborne and resulted in a crash-landing on the tarmac a few feet north of our driveway.  Gd bless gravity!

If you’ve ever taken a tumble (in my case, this was because of uneven paving), you’ll know the drill.

The first thing that happens is that you trip.  Then you try your best to retain your balance in the vain (and frankly comical) hope that you’ll stop yourself falling.  As you realise that you’re not going to ‘make it’, a terror, like nothing else you’ve experienced, hits you and, in a split second, you try to position your body in a way that will minimise the damage you know you’re going to cause yourself - unless you’re Tom Cruise in Paris.  In my case, I managed to angle my shoulders so as I landed, I put my hand out and somehow managed to roll over, ‘stunt-man’ style so that I completed a 360° turn (it might have been two).  Had the result not been so painful, I might have marvelled at my prowess.  I was almost starring in my very own action movie.  The problem was that the palm of my left hand was blistered and my elbows and knees really hurt.

Sefer Mishlei, the Book of Proverbs teaches us (16.18) ‘Before collapse comes pride!  Before failure, haughtiness of spirit’ or in English parlance ‘Pride comes before a fall’.

I don’t know how proud I was feeling as I deposited an item in the bin by the green in front of our house and then attempted to fly across the road, but I can tell you that my spirit felt anything but haughty as I lay effigy-like in front of number 23.

Angry for being so careless, I picked myself up and hobbled back to the house, battered, bruised and at the same time grateful that I hadn’t inflicted more damage on myself.

In reflecting the episode, it occurred to me how the fear of what was going to happen to me was much worse that the result of the impact.  It was as though the loss of control bothered me the most.

In 1843, Charles Dickens introduced the noun ‘moral compass’ into the English language according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

https://www.oed.com/dictionary/moral-compass_n?tl=true

Google defines a moral compass as:

‘a set of beliefs about what is right and wrong that guides one's actions.  A moral compass can help one make decisions in daily life, but it can also help one find meaning and purpose in life.  An individual's moral compass is the foundation for ethical decision-making.’

There’s nothing in this definition which refers to losing one’s physical compass.  I had intended to walk southwards to my house but instead, I ended up in a north-easterly heap!

However, if we look at the events which took place, from my feeling secure in an upright position to losing my balance to changing the direction I was planning to move in, I believe that my fall could be a metaphor for losing my balance in more than just a physical manner.

This week’s Parasha of Va’etchanan, we recite the Ten Commandments or Aseret Hadibrot (version 2.0)  This provides a template for societies that are underpinned by values such as worshipping a single Gd (‘don’t create idols); recognising the need for a day of rest in the working week (‘Shabbat’); honouring parents, sanctifying life (‘do not murder’) and ensuring that there is an equitable justice system (‘do not bear false witness’).

The Aseret Hadibrot teach us the importance of having moral clarity in everything that we say and do.  Or alternatively, giving us a moral compass by which to lead our lives.

When this is absent, we find ourselves rootless, flying in the air as it were, afraid of what will happen when we hit the ground.

The last year has demonstrated what can happen when law and order is ignored and values are cast by the wayside.

From the ‘hate marches’ on our streets, to the antisemitic campaigns across American and British University campuses, the rule of law has been severely compromised.  Where people openly deny the horrific events of 7^th October and the College Presidents of three of America’s leading universities evade questions regarding whether they would discipline students who had been calling for a genocide against their fellow Jewish peers.

We have witnessed riots which have resulted in mosques being torched and people like you and me being frightened to go out in public for fear of being attacked.  Does this not feel as though we are all caught in that moment where we have tripped and don’t know what will happen to us when we land?  Frozen in the air.

Where societies’ moral compass is so hidden that people no longer know which direction they should be facing.  Where an Olympic boxer nearly died because she’d never been hit so hard before by a contender who should have been fighting in a different ring against a very different opponent.

The words that comprise the Aseret Hadibrot are no less relevant today than they were when given to us at Sinai by Gd over 3,300 years ago.

For society to heal itself, it must regain control of its balance.  We humans will always trip and fall.  The trick is knowing how to tumble and be able to get up without causing too much damage to our infrastructure.  That’s where our moral compass comes to the fore.   It provides us with an inner rulebook we can refer to which allow us to question our actions and by implication, recover.  It will help us heal ourselves.

Perhaps, if we have solid and clear values, we won’t trip so easily next time.

It’s never too late to take in the significance of those Ten Commandments.  We need to ensure that we utilise them to repair our bruised societies.  It’s never too late to start.

Shavuah Tov.

Parashat Chukat: Moshe's Influencer

Hers was the first voice I heard and continued listening to until it fell silent fifty-four years later.

I could begin this Drasha with the famous quote that ‘a boy’s best friend is his mother’ but granted it was uttered by Norman Bates in Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘Psycho’ film, it’s not best appropriate!

However, I do believe that the sentiment is accurate, at least in my case.

In my formative years, my mother was without a doubt the most influential person in my life.  She fed and nurtured and educated me, and the fact that I am bi-lingual is purely down to her speaking to me in French until I started nursery.  This is not to say that my father’s contribution was not an integral part of my upbringing.  In the long tradition of Jewish mothers, she was a force of nature and Dad was smart enough not to disagree.

From time immemorial, traditional Judaism has defined a Jewish person’s status through their mother’s line.  This makes sense as it is the mother who has the greatest influence on the child from the moment they enter the world.  Although our fathers would like to think they are in charge, we all know who really runs the household, don’t we?!  Additionally, there is never any doubt as to who the child’s mother is which, from a historical point, may not have been applicable to their father, granted our long and violent history of persecution.

Back to my mother. Her influence on me was such that, in primary school, I thrived under female teachers and with a few exceptions, clashed with my male instructors.  It was as though I instinctively gravitated towards the ‘mumsy’ type teachers over the stricter school ‘ma’ams’ (and their male equivalents).

I have a natural empathy for the fairer sex and my deep-seated belief in granting women equal rights was instilled in me by my late mother.  At university in the early 1990s, I recall writing an essay on the significance of The Equal Pay Act (1970) and The Sex Discrimination Act (1975) both of which were latterly replaced by the Equality Act (2010).  I was appalled that despite the 1970 Act, men and women were still being paid differently for performing identical jobs.

It also didn’t hurt that I came of age under Lady Thatcher’s premiership.  A leader whom I have always held in very high esteem (unlike my parents who despised her!)  She also helped to inform and influence my thinking at a crucial stage of my emotional development and awareness of the world.  All of the above embedded in me a high level of respect and admiration for women.

When Hashem is about to create Adam, He says (Bereshit 2.18)

‘It is not good for man to be alone. 
I will make him a fitting partner for him’.

The Hebrew expression used is ‘Ezer Kenegdo’ which literally means ‘someone to help him who will oppose him.’  Chazal understand that a truly loving female partner is one who is not afraid to criticize her male counterpart, for in doing so, she will make him a better person.  I don’t think any lady here would disagree with that sentiment and although we, the boys, might sometimes wince at this idea, deep down, we know that it makes a great deal of sense!

When I look at the other women who have influenced me over the years, I feel that I have been (mostly) blessed.  Gd (and nature), seeing that I coped better in female company gave me the gift of four fabulous daughters and a wonderful wife in Stephnie.  I am truly blessed on all accounts.

Mark Twain’s famous quote of, “Behind every successful man, there is a woman.” recalls this week’s Parasha.  In our case, the man is Moshe Rabbeinu and the woman is his sister, Miriam.

Rabbi Sacks ztl asks a crucial question regarding a seminal event that takes place in Chukat.  Why did Moshe lose his temper and hit the rock when Hashem had told him to speak to it?

Twice before, the people had complained about not having water, firstly at Marah where he took a branch to sweeten the waters and then at Rephidim where Gd told him to hit the rock which he did and this led to the waters flowing out.

Moshe had managed to overcome the previous challenges, Rabbi Sacks states, so why did he fail this third test?

As always, it is crucial to look at the context of what was happening.  In this case, we are told in Bemidbar 20.11 that:

 

 ‘In the first month, the whole Israelite community arrived at the Desert of Zin and they stayed at Kadesh.  There Miriam died and was buried.’

The Gemara in Taanit (9a) tells us that due to Miriam’s merit, there existed a well of water that accompanied the people on their journeys through the desert.  Upon her death, the well disappeared.  There was no more water and the next event that we are told about describes the people complaining about not having water.  This led to Moshe’s actions.

Rabbi Sacks’ understanding of the passage is subtle and empathetic.  Moshe had lost his big sister.  She had been with him throughout his life, from the time she carefully watched his basket as it floated on the River Nile and interceded on his behalf to Pharaoh’s daughter to arrange for their mother to nurse her brother.  She was there, leading the jubilant women who had witnessed the miracle of the parting of the sea in song.  She admonished Moshe through speaking to their brother Aharon when she was concerned about the breakup of his marriage to Tzipporah (for which she was punished with leprosy).  He begged Gd to heal her.  It is without a doubt that they loved and cared about each other as only siblings can.

And now she was gone and for the first time in his life, Moshe had to face a challenge of such magnitude without his sister being there to support him.  To influence his decision and to be his ‘ezer kenegdo’.  At this hurdle, our greatest leader stumbled.  As our late great former Chief Rabbi puts it:

“A careful reading of this famous episode in the context of Moses’ early life suggests that Miriam was Moses’ ‘trusted friend,’ his confidante, the source of his emotional stability; when she was no longer there, he could not cope with crises as he had done until then.” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Lessons in Leadership, page 214.

Losing my mother just over three years ago literally ‘knocked me for six’ and I still think about her every single day and miss her sage advice.  I have been blessed in that my female influencers who gently took up her reins over the years (which I hasten to add, she encouraged!) continue to be my rocks and the people I turn to when I feel that I cannot cope with the curveballs that life throws in my direction every now and again.  This doesn’t mean that her influence is any less significant in my life. 

Like everything else it becomes who we are and who we aspire to be.

Returning to my original quotation, I would change it to a ‘boy’s best friend is an amalgamation of his wife, daughters, sister-in-law and any other lady who cares about his happiness and wellbeing.  These are our influencers, and we need to treasure them and heed their advice, even if we may sometimes disagree with it.

For it is women like Miriam, Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, Hannah and Esther that have influenced their husbands, brothers, children and cousins.  And let’s not forget our mothers - they made us who we are!

Shavuah Tov. 

Parashat Korach: The Two Aarons

They are thoughts that have been embedded in our minds and present on our lips for numerous weeks.  Questions such as, “What kind of leader will take on the highest political position in the land following the General Election?  “Which priorities will drive his policies and those of his ministers?” and “Will we, the nation, benefit from their outcome?”

These are questions that weigh heavily in our thoughts.

The protagonist of this week’s Parasha, Korach had no such qualms.

‘Now (there) took Korach, son of Yitzhar, son of Kehat, son of Levi, together with Datan and Aviram, sons of Eliav and On, son of Pelet, the sons of Reuven and they rose up in the face of Moses with certain men of the children of Israel, two hundred-and fifty…’

Rashi famously questions the odd phraseology regarding the manner in which the Parasha begins, namely ‘Vayikach Korach’, which read literally would be ‘And Korach took’.

What exactly, asks Rashi, did he take?  Quoting the Midrash Tanchuma, he states that:

‘(Korach) took himself to one side, to be set apart from the congregation, to contend against the priesthood and that is how Onkelos renders it.  He set himself apart (i.e.) he separated himself from the rest of the congregation to establish a rebellion.’

Chazal, our rabbis, were in no doubt as to his motives and they were anything but altruistic.  In modern parlance, he was attempting a ‘power grab’ riding on the back of the events following the disastrous report of the spies that we read about in last week’s Parasha and the low morale it had engendered.  Datan and Aviram, Moshe’s old Reubenite foes (we first met them fighting each other in Egypt and threatening Moshe that they would reveal his killing of the Egyptian slave-master), joined the rebellion.  Their grievance lay in the fact that, as descendants of the oldest brother, they should have had ‘first dibs’ at the leadership.  This all made for an explosive power-keg waiting to ignite.

Korach’s idea of leadership was very different to the one demonstrated by Moshe and Aharon.  It was all about gratifying his lust for the power at the expense of everyone else.  Nominally using the concept of ‘strength in numbers’ to propel him to the top.

I’m sure we can think of many contemporary leaders who are more focused on their own interests than those of the people they claim to represent and by extension, protect.

The dictum of ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ doesn’t play a prominent role in their mission statement!

He accused the brothers of ‘setting themselves above the Lord’s people’ whom he had described as being ‘holy, every one of them and that the Lord was in their midst’.

To which Moshe replied,

“Listen now, you sons of Levi.  Is it not enough for you that the Gd of Israel has separated you from the Israelite community, enabling you to come close to Him to serve in the Lord’s Tabernacle and stand in the presence of the community to minister to Him….and yet you seek the priesthood also?’...Aharon, who is he that you should have grievances against him?”

The same Aharon who we are told in Pirkei Avot 1.12 ‘loved peace and pursued peace (amongst people)’.  That Korech was envious of Moshe’s position was one factor.  To have a grievance against the saintly peace-loving Aharon was something else altogether.

Aharon’s love towards others would be amplified thousands of years later in the guise of his namesake, a man by the name of Aaron Feuerstein (of blessed memory).

He was a businessman whose grandfather Henry, a Hungarian immigrant, had founded a textile company called ‘Malden Mills’ in 1906.  Their best-selling line consisted of synthetic fleece products known as Polartec.  Aaron took over the business in 1957.  The factory was based in Lawrence, Massachusetts.

On the night of 11^th December 1995, a fire broke out in the redbrick factory which, by the end of the day, had destroyed the three buildings that comprised Malden Mills.  It was literally ‘burned to the ground’ over a period of 16 hours injuring more than 30 workers and leaving 1,400 employees without a job - two weeks before Christmas.  It was one of the most devastating fires in the history of the State and there are differing reports as to whether there were 1,400 or 3000 employees.

Aaron Feuerstein could have understandably walked away and absolved himself of the responsibility for what had happened.  However, he chose a different path.  According to the New York Times (5^th November 2021), three days after the blaze, when most of the workers were lining up to receive their final pay checks, he joined the queue, handed out holiday bonuses and announced that he would reopen as much as the factory as he could, reconstruct the destroyed buildings and continue to pay the entire workforce for a month, despite their not being able to work.  He extended this promise twice.

https://www.timesofisrael.com/mensch-of-malden-mills-who-paid-workers-even-after-factory-burned-dies-at-95/

The Boston Globe quoted Feuerstein as saying:

“I’m not throwing 3,000 people out of work two weeks before Christmas.”

 Feuerstein also explained after the fire that he was guided by Jewish tradition.

“When all is moral chaos, this is the time for you to be a mensch,”

he said.’

A deeply religious man and a graduate of Yeshiva University, Aaron Feuerstein kept his word and the millions he paid out, eventually led to his losing control of the company.  After a downturn, he had no option but to place it into bankruptcy in 2007.  It was bought by a private equity firm which closed down the factory and relocated the manufacturing to Tennessee.  Five years ago, Polartec, as it was now known, was bought out by Milliken an industrial manufacturing company.

Aaron Feuerstein passed away at the age of 95 in 2021 without ever regretting his actions.

In a 2003 episode of 60 Minutes entitled, ‘The Mensch of Malden Hills’, he said:

“You are not permitted to oppress the working man, because he’s poor and he’s needy, amongst your brethren and amongst the non-Jew in your community.”

 

The two Aarons though separated by thousands of years are examples of what it means to be a great leader.  Men who placed those for whom they were responsible ahead of their own personal ambitions.  Aharon Hakohen, the first High Priest could have distanced himself from others by stating that, as a Kohen Gadol, he had to place all of his focus on the important work he did.  Instead, he prioritised healing rifts between people doing everything in his power to bring people together to set aside the animosity they might have felt as a result of an argument.

Aaron Feuerstein displayed the ultimate Kiddush Hashem, sanctification of Gd’s name by supporting his employees and their families for as long as they were unable to work because of the fire.

Compared alongside these two giants, Korach and the type of leader that we are all too familiar with, pale into insignificance.  Their attempts at aggrandisement often result in a great deal of misery for those who are impacted by their selfish acts.  Many of the world’s current leaders could learn a great deal from both Aarons.

No one knows what the future will bring, and which kind of leaders will make the decisions that will impact all of our futures.

Shakespeare wrote in Twelfth Night (Act 2: Scene 5)

‘Some Are Born Great, Some Achieve Greatness, And Some Have Greatness Thrust Upon Them.’

We hope and pray that whoever is chosen to lead us, proves to be wise enough to learn from the altruistic actions of the truly great leaders that I have described today.

Shavuah Tov and Chodesh Tov. 

Parashat Beha'alotecha: This One's For You, Dad

 Dedicated to the memory of my dear father, R’ Yitzchak Asher ben Yechezkel Shraga on the anniversary of his passing.

Dear Dad,

I’m writing to you because you’ve been on my mind throughout the last year, particularly over the course of this week.

I am writing these words on Tuesday evening, in the knowledge that in just over 48 hours, I will be reaching the end of my year of aveilut/mourning for you.  I will mark the occasion by switching off the electric light imprinted with the words ‘Ner Neshama’ – ‘a light for the soul’ at the end of the day, once darkness has fallen.

The light has remained on since 3^rd July last year, corresponding with 14^th Tammuz which was the day your soul left the home it had inhabited since the end of 1927.

Actually, I’m not being wholly accurate.  The light was damaged when your step great-grandchildren dropped a board game on it causing a temporary blip!  Thankfully Benjamin, Stephnie’s youngest son and Adam, Gabrielle’s boyfriend, worked their magic to restore it. Sorry about that!

As you know, in this week’s Parasha of Beha’alotecha, we read that G-d told Moshe to instruct his brother Aharon on the process of preparing and kindling the Menorah for its daily use in the Mishkan. These instructions were passed on to his sons and descendants.

To this day, every shul in the world has a ner tamid/everlasting light to remind us of the Menorot in the Mishkan and Batei Mikdash/Temples.  This is in addition to our recreating the act over the eight days of Chanukah in our homes.

Dad, you know that in Judaism, we put great emphasis on the importance of light.  Every Friday night, we light candles in honour of Shabbat and bid farewell to our holy day through the kindling of the Havdalah Candle the next day.

We appreciate that, just as wicks or candles bring light to the world, so do people.  When you smiled, your soul shone through your eyes.  You lit up a room and brightened the mood.

Your ner zikaron, though small and placed in the corner of our living room, has been a lasting reminder of how missed you are and the modest light it emits has been a constant reminder that, by your loss, our lives have been darker.

The practice of lighting a Yartzheit candle for a departed relative on the Hebrew anniversary of their passing probably goes back to Mishnaic times, whilst the lesser known minhag/custom of keeping a light on in the home for a year is more recent.  In the past, Chabad communities would ensure that a candle was lit over the period of the year in the shul.  These days, we use electric memorial boards instead.  They are probably safer too!

A contemporary Rabbi, the Nitei Gavriel, Rabbi Gavriel Zimmer, who lives in Boro Park (which isn’t far from where you lived) quotes the Ruach Chayim (Rabbi Chaim Palagi d.1868) who was the Turkish (and therefore Sephardi) Chief Rabbi of Smyrna as being the source for this custom.  I remember when you honoured your parents by keeping a light on for an entire year upon their passing (along with mum’s departed relatives).

Dad, you and mum provided much of the spiritual light that powers me today.  You encouraged me to develop my knowledge and share it with others.  You lit the internal menorah that burns brightly inside me to this day, replicating the beautiful acts performed by Aharon as described at the start of Beha’alotecha.

I therefore feel a modicum of sadness knowing that when I push that switch, the light that served as a bridge between the day you passed away and the end of my year of mourning will be extinguished.

The consolation I will have lies in the knowledge that, although the physical light will return to the drawer that keeps it safe on non-Yartzheit days, the spiritual light that I received from you will never be diminished inside me.

As Jews, we understand the concept of darkness.  At times like these, it sometimes feels that we are enveloped deeply inside it.  But, dad, you always taught me that each day brings new hope and you made me realise that we should be thankful for the light we are blessed to have through the family we have and the friends we treasure.

Sure as last summer was followed by autumn and then winter, before I knew it, spring had arrived and now, in early summer, it is the time for me to end my year of mourning for you.

I want to start this new year remembering you without the bitterness of mourning and although that means moving on, it also gives me the opportunity to bathe in the light that you provided for me.

Thank you, Dad and take care of Mum up there for me.

Your loving son, Claude.

Shabbat Shalom.