Rabbi Claude's Scribbles

Many years ago, a school friend told me something I've never forgotten, and it's directly related to the start of this week's Parasha. He said he'd heard that a recent archaeological expedition had made an astounding discovery in Egypt. Apparently, they had found the skeletons of seven cows buried one next to the other and had dated the remains to around the time of Joseph's sojourn in the land. My eyes almost popped out in excitement. He waited a moment and then with a wry smile added: 'but it was a dream, remember?' To my amusement (which should really be 'shame'), I've subsequently repeated the same joke to many other people and everyone falls for it!   This week's Parasha of Miketz tells us that: Two years passed. Then Pharaoh had a dream: he was standing by the Nile when seven handsome, healthy cows came up out of the river and grazed among the reeds. Then seven other cows came up from the river after them, ugly and gaunt and stood

 It is one of the most memorable quotes in a film brimmed with them. Having sung the mournful ‘Anatevka’ the villagers look at each other. Golde says, “Eh, it’s just a place.” Mendel, the Rabbi’s son adds, “And our forefathers have been forced out of many, many places at a moment’s notice.” At which point, Tevye shrugs his shoulders and says philosophically, “Maybe that’s why we always wear our hats.” I have always felt a deep level of sympathy for Jacob.   It seems to be that whenever he thinks he’s managed to find contentment, it evades him.   In Parashat Toldot, he was given no option by his mother but to deceive his father in order to receive the blessings that had been promised by Gd to both his grandfather Abraham and his son Isaac.   In doing so, he incurred the murderous wrath of his brother.   He finds true love in Rachel and is himself deceived by his uncle when poor Leah is substituted under the veil.   Last week, we learned how his beloved Rachel died in child

 For those of us of a certain age, the soundtrack of the 1980s is indelibly embedded into our psyche.  Unlike the 1960s where they say that if ‘you remember it, you weren’t really there’, 1986 was a particularly vintage year in my adolescence.  It was the time of Paul Simon’s Graceland, when you couldn’t go to a party without hearing it on the Hi Fi (remember those?); watching Peter Gabriel’s ‘Sledgehammer’ video with its then state-of-the-art animation and singing one of the greatest rock anthems that ever ruled the airwaves – Bon Jovi’s ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’. Who can forget the catchy refrain? Wo’ah, we're halfway there Wo’ah, livin' on a prayer. Take my hand, we'll make it I swear Wo’ah, livin' on a prayer. Written by Desmond Child, John Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora – once heard, was forever cherished in our hearts and stored in our minds. When Richie asked Jon whether he thought it would be a hit when he was writing it, John famously replied ’not at all’.  The