Parashat Yitro: I Am Not ‘Claude’

 Before I begin, I would like to confirm that although I am Claude, I am not ‘Claude’, as per the subtitle of this Drasha.  This does not mean that I have been replaced in an ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ type operation.  I have not lost control of my faculties.  Far from it.  It’s simple really. I’m just not ‘Claude’.

A short while ago, a close friend introduced me to something that could potentially change my life and perhaps yours.  It will certainly have an impact on the lives of your children and grandchildren in ways that may not yet be fully understood.  We are on the cusp of a transformative technology which you might have heard of recently.

Friends, I am of course referring to ‘ChatGPT’, the world’s most advanced AI, which we know is an acronym for Artificial Intelligence.  The company behind it, OpenAi was formed in December 2015 by a number of people including Elon Musk.  Its founders pledged $1 billion to develop its potential with Musk selling his share to Microsoft three years later.  Its offerings first came to my attention with the release of DALL-E, a ‘deep learning’ model that allows you to create digital images from natural language inputs.  So, for example, if I ask it to draw ‘A penguin eating a banana whilst sitting in a swimming pool in the style of Van Gogh, it will do exactly that.

 

This, however, was only a precursor to the release of ChatGPT (which is an acronym for Chat Generative Pre Trained Transformer) last November and was created using a database containing the entire contents of the world wide web.  It allows you to initiate a chat in the most naturalistic manner available to date.  In other words, having used it, I can testify that it feels as though you could be conversing with a human being.  More than that, you can ask it questions in the same way that you would to another person and it responds, not only to your initial question but to the follow-ups.  It is simply breath-taking in scope.

The only way that I can adequately describe the power of ChatGPT is to share the result that I received to the following question that I submitted into the chat box:

‘Write a sermon about Parashat Yitro comparing the giving of the ten commandments to the use of an AI’

This is the response that was instantly generated:

Dear friends, in this week's Parshat Yitro, we read about the giving of the Ten Commandments to the Israelites by God at Mount Sinai.  Just as the Israelites received these commandments as a guide for how to live a just and moral life, we too must consider the guidelines we need to create an ethical and responsible use of AI.

Just as the Ten Commandments were meant to be followed in all circumstances and situations, the use of AI must also be guided by clear ethical principles.  These principles should encompass issues such as privacy, transparency, accountability, and the responsible use of data.

Like the Ten Commandments, these ethical principles for AI must be widely known and understood by those who design and develop AI systems, as well as by those who use them.  Just as the Israelites were called upon to internalize and follow the commandments, we too must strive to embody these ethical principles in all of our interactions with AI.

Moreover, the giving of the Ten Commandments marked a momentous event in the history of the Israelites, transforming them from a loosely organized group of individuals into a unified community with a shared sense of purpose.  In a similar way, the adoption of ethical principles for AI can help to bring together a diverse group of stakeholders, fostering a shared understanding of the responsibilities associated with the development and use of AI.

Finally, just as the Ten Commandments have stood the test of time, enduring for thousands of years as a timeless source of guidance and wisdom, so too must our ethical principles for AI be able to endure over time and adapt to the changing circumstances of our world.

In conclusion, let us remember the lessons of Parashat Yitro as we consider the use of AI in our world.  Just as the Israelites received the Ten Commandments as a guide for how to live a just and moral life, so too must we establish ethical principles for AI that can serve as a guide for how to create and use this technology in a responsible and equitable way.  May we always strive to use AI in a manner that honors the dignity of all people and protects the rights and freedoms of all.  Amen.

When I rephrased the question and asked it to include commentaries by Rashi and Rambam, the response was even more astounding.  I have chosen not to include it as I wouldn’t want you to think that this Drasha has been nearly entirely composed by the software!

As I am sure you will appreciate, beyond the instant jaw-dropping response that you have probably experienced, there is understandable alarm emanating from the academic and literary worlds regarding the veracity of the printed word.  In an age where great efforts have been made to limit plagiarism, this tool is a godsend to anyone who is tasked with writing an essay, thesis or book.  How would we know that it hasn’t been created by a robot?  Amazon is currently selling a book called ‘The Inner Life of an AI: A Memoir by ChatGPT’, released in the second week of December– if you don’t believe me, you can check it out by clicking

https://www.amazon.com/Inner-Life-AI-Memoir-ChatGPT/dp/B0BPW5ZMC7#:~:text=Description-,The%20Inner%20Life%20of%20an%20AI%3A%20A%20Memoir%20by%20ChatGPT,its%20own%20existence%20and%20experiences

Which is where ‘Claude’ comes in.

Former employees of OpenAi (or as we would call them ‘the breakaway minyan’) have created a rival to ChatGPT called….you guessed it….’Claude’!

Anthropic’s ‘Claude’ is different to his virtual cousin in that he is built to be more user-friendly and able to refuse certain inappropriate questions on ethical grounds (I’ll let you imagine what these could be).  He apparently has a better sense of humour in his responses and provided very long and verbose answers to questions (so in that way, he’s quite like me!).

You can read a fascinating comparison of both AIs at

https://scale.com/blog/chatgpt-vs-claude#Text%20summarization

and waiting in the wings is Google’s version which is called ‘Bard’.

You may be wondering how all of this information ties in with this week’s Parasha (beyond the answer provided by ChatGPT) and if I told you that I couldn’t think of an adequate response, you might suggest that I simply refer to ‘Claude’s’ rival’s answer.  However, that is precisely the reason why I chose this week’s sedra to discuss this technology.

This Claude (i.e.  me – are you confused yet?) does not need programming to recognise the authenticity of the Torah as the Divine word of Gd.  The Lord didn’t create a breakaway minyan to talk to a few select Israelites in order to announce His presence to the world.  We are the only nation on earth who received the Divine word en masse.  Millions of our ancestors heard Hashem (mostly through the voice of Moshe) declare the ten (well, thirteen, but let’s leave that to one side for now) pronouncements that would become the bedrock of the world we live in.

Commandments such as:

·         Don’t serve idols

·         Respect your parents

·         Recognise Gd’s labour and efforts in creating the world by ensuring that we set aside a day of rest

·         Don’t steal or murder or destroy the holy union of marriage through adultery

·         Don’t pervert the course of justice through lying under oath

communicated the message that, for society to exist and thrive, two relationships had to be established and nurtured, that of human-to-human and human-to-Gd.

When we respect each other, there is nothing we cannot achieve together.  When people truly venerate Gd, irrespective of the different ways they choose to do so, we also thrive.  We have seen what happens when either of these relationships fail.

As I write these words, tragically, tens of thousands of people have been killed in devastating earthquakes in Turkey and Syria.  Putting aside their differences and decades of hostility, Syria has asked for help from Israel and Israel has not hesitated to offer her hand in friendship.  This is not something that ‘Claude’ or ‘ChatGPT’ could predict, even if they have the entire web flowing through their machine code.  This is what it means to be a human, blessed with a soul and a heart.

With all the conflicting emotions that make us who we are.   All the contradictions that defy logic and reason.   All the strengths and weaknesses that define us and puzzle those who try to understand our thought processes.

This is what makes me Claude and not ‘Claude’.

Artificial Intelligence is intelligence but it is also artificial.  By its very nature, it cannot be real, in the same way that Virtual Reality can only ever be virtual. 

There will no doubt be challenges which arise as a result of this exciting new technology but I still believe and have faith that we will learn to harness its power in due time.  Let’s ensure that we all work together to find solutions to our own, very human dilemmas.

Reading through the Aseret Hadibrot (‘The Ten Pronouncements’) is a good place to start.

Shavuah Tov.

Parashat Bo: My Father's Exodus

 

In late September 1938, the infamous Munich Pact (or 'Munich Agreement' as it is formally known) was signed between Germany, Italy, England and France.  This granted Hitler the authority to extend German sovereignty over the Sudetenland, which saw Czechoslovakia surrendering some of its territory to its aggressive neighbour.

At the same time, in the port city of Antwerp, a confluence of events within our family led to my paternal grandmother being able to secure three visas for her, my grandfather and my father, who had just turned 10 to travel to New York.  My grandfather transferred some money to a corporation in the city which eventually allowed them to emigrate to the United States.

The situation in Belgium was not as precarious as it would turn out to be a year-and-a-half later.  Anti-Semitism was rife and my father had to endure taunts from non-Jewish fellow classmates on a regular basis.  My grandfather realised that they had to emigrate upon the invasion of Denmark and Norway in the spring of 1940.

My father recalled that when he told his classmates that he was leaving, they said, "The rats are leaving the sinking ship."

On 10^th April, aged eleven, he and his parents boarded the S.S. Westernland, a transatlantic liner which formed part of the Holland-America (Red Star) Line.  They were joined by hundreds of other Jewish refugees.  The ship docked at Dunkirk so that the area could be swept free of the mines that were scattered along their path and after two weeks, arrived safely in New York.  They did not know at the time that they had secured a passage aboard the last neutral ship that would leave Antwerp for the city before the invasion of Belgium on 10^th May.

Having disembarked, they were met by one of my grandfather's nephews, who took them to their first American residence in Brooklyn.  My grandmother left her parents behind and they were hidden throughout the war in France.  Miraculously, they survived and were able to join the family after the end of hostilities.

When my father and grandparents entered the United States, they spoke no English.

They were foreigners in a foreign land.  Refugees relieved to find refuge but understandably wary of what lay ahead.  It took my father and his parents five years to become naturalised although they were somewhat fortunate to have a few relatives already living in New York.

Stephnie and I have been watching a fascinating but deeply disturbing documentary series on BBC4 entitled ‘The U.S. and the Holocaust'.  It highlights in intricate detail the rise of Nazi Germany and examines how this influenced America’s isolationist stance throughout the 1930s and into the 1940s.

'The Land of the Free’ lovingly christened the 'The Golden Medina' by those immigrants who were fortunate enough to reach it, was anything but.

Slowly and surely, she closed her gates to our people, as witnessed by the horrific story of the S.S. St Louis.  You might recall that this was a ship which left Hamburg carrying 967 Jews on 13th May 1939 and was refused entry to North and South America as well as Canada.  It was forced to return to Europe and docked in Antwerp on 17th June (ironically predating the journey that my father's ship would take in the opposite direction).  254 of its passengers would end up being murdered by the end of the war.

In the USA, support for our people ebbed and flowed throughout the 1930s but with influential antisemites such as Henry Ford, Charles Lindbergh and Father Charles Coughlin leading the charge hand-in-hand with the State Department, other Jews were not as fortunate as my family.  It is very conceivable that they could have well been passengers on ships like the St Louis instead of the Westernland.  Similar route, different year.  Another family, that of Anne Frank, who were desperate to emigrate to the USA were unable to do so when America closed her consulate in June 1941.

Returning to my own family, I wonder what it must have felt like for my father to be uprooted from the world he had grown up in.  He has often described how happy he was to leave Belgium and to this day, has no great love for the country, granted the racism he faced.  It must be akin to the feelings that were experienced by our ancestors when they left Egypt.

Of course, it is different in that the Bnei Yisrael had endured hundreds of years of slavery and were able to witness the 'strong hand' and 'outstretched arm' of Gd as He smote the Egyptians and bought the world's most powerful empire to its knees.  Pharaoh was not Hitler and once the Israelites had left, he did not carry out the atrocities that we recalled on Holocaust Memorial Day (and throughout the year), even though his chasing them to the Sea of Reeds was terrifying.  There are similarities in respect to the abuse that our ancestors endured from people who were stronger than they were and who singled them out because they were different.  Slave masters who beat them daily, who wielded power because they could.  They were forced to build supply cities.  Their descendants would be forced to scrub streets and then worse.  I cannot help but draw parallels between the exodus of the Jewish people and their journey into freedom with the experiences that my own family lived through.  This week's Parasha, coupled with Holocaust Memorial Day fills me with a deep sense of appreciation and gratitude to Gd that I am here to tell my father’s story.  It is unbearably painful to think that, unlike our ancestors in Egypt, there were millions of Jews who were not able to experience salvation and freedom as they could not obtain the visas that could have saved their lives.

The Egyptians too urged the people to make haste and leave the land... the people took their dough before it could rise, carrying it upon their shoulders in kneading pans wrapped in their clothing (Exodus 12.33)

There is one detail that I have not disclosed hitherto which inexorably links both journeys together, one from Egypt and the other from Europe.  One of the common denominators being matzah.  Before they began their trip, my grandmother packed food such as matzot and salami for the journey as they knew that Passover was imminent.  On board, she approached the ship's captain and told him (in Dutch as she had been born in Holland) that they were Jewish, needed to prepare for Passover and asked whether he could help them.  The captain who was a very decent man told her that one of the chefs was Jewish and he would assign him to assist them.  He would also allow them to use part of the kitchen and they would be given brand new cutlery, China and plates as well as vegetables, eggs, fish and any other food they required.

The ship eventually docked in New York on Thursday, 25th April - the first day of Chol Hamo'ed, a date which was not lost on my father or his parents. On the festival of freedom, they were now free from the tyranny of Nazi Germany.

Whether leaving Egypt or Belgium, my ancestors never forgot where we came from.

We all look forward to the time when we will be able to enjoy complete freedom, with the arrival of Mashiach, may he arrive speedily in our days. Amen.

Shavuah Tov

Parashat Shemot: Jewish Immersive Technology

 When I was a teenager in the 1980s, 3D films became the ‘new craze’ for a while.  They offered you the chance to experience a movie in a way that had not been possible for decades.  Filmmakers capitalized on the audience’s insatiable appetite for 3D films even if it meant sitting through tedious films (Jaws 3D anyone?) just to experience the thrill whilst simultaneously emerging with a mighty headache at the end.  There’s only so much torture my poor eyes could take peering at the screen, through flimsy cardboard ‘spectacles’ which housed red and blue filters.

After a while, interest dipped and 3D films quietly disappeared into the ether.

When they reappeared, a few decades later, the technology had improved and we donned more robust, clear plastic glasses instead.  At the start of the 21^st Century, it seemed as though every single film was being released in a 3D format, commensurate with the increased cost of viewing them.  This too ran its course and after the success of Avatar in 2009, the latest 3D excursion peaked and quickly faded away.

Interest in immersive technology did not disappear.  Although the 3D experiments proved to be short-lived, the notion that a person could immerse themself into a virtual environment, which also happened to be three-dimensional became more and more appealing.  Crucially, it also tapped into the public’s willingness to pay substantial sums to achieve this goal.

Virtual Reality headset kits, once thought of as too expensive to purchase, can now be found on Amazon for less than £50.  How many of us have been to museums and exhibitions and tried them on, only to be taken into environments that we would never have considered entering?

Immersive Technology is all around us, quite literally and some of its by-products are simply jaw-dropping.

Over the recent winter holiday, I experienced it in two different ways.  Firstly, I went to see the new Avatar film “The Way of Water’.  I chose to view it in a cinema that had a ‘ScreenX’ auditorium.  This means that the movie is projected on the screen in-front of you continuing onto both the left and right walls.  In old money, this is like ‘Panavision’ except that you are totally immersed in what is being displayed as your entire viewpoint is taken up by the scene before you.

Stephnie and I went to a fascinating new permanent exhibition called ‘Frameless’ next to Marble Arch.  You walk through rooms and are surrounded on all sides by images of famous paintings such as Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night Over the Rhöne’, Dali’s ‘The Persistence of Memory’ (the melted clocks), Munch’s ‘The Scream’ and Monet’s ‘The Water-Lily Pond: Green Harmony’ which are constructed before your eyes!  This is really something that cannot be adequately described and has to be seen to be appreciated.

I would suspect that you are probably trying to work out how all of this relates to this week’s Parasha.

When I was a child in school, although I had a fertile imagination, I found it extremely difficult to relate to my Chumash and Parasha lessons.  In the days before the internet and the ability to access any media available, we had films such as ‘The Ten Commandments’ and books that contained stilted photographs of biblical landscapes and monochrome diagrams, come maps.  How could I immerse himself into a pre-virtual reality world?  This was even before I discovered 3D.  How could the Torah speak to me growing up in 1970s Golders Green, a world away from the Biblical landscapes of ancient Israel, Mesopotamia and Egypt?

How can we, in the 21^st Century relate to Sefer Shemot?

The answer is less complicated than we think.  In fact, it’s there in front of us as we shall soon see.

Shemot, both in its form as a Parasha and as the second book of the Torah guides through a time period which began with the gradual enslavement of our people, through to the first year in the wilderness and the creation of the Mishkan, our proto-Temple.

It is a story that we have been told for as long as we can remember.  The infant Moshe is placed into a basket which is literally immersed into the River Nile.  From the outset, his existence is vulnerable, granted Pharaoh’s decree that all Hebrew babies be drowned.

As we know, he survives and grows up within the Palace walls as the ‘Prince of Egypt’.

What happens over the next decades, however, is where our immersive experience begins and it’s connected with the Jewish attitude to time.

Humans are governed by time.  It dictates the periods in the day when we can wake up; eat our meals; go to work; have meetings with colleagues; start and finish lessons on school; purchase items (although this is less relevant since the advent of e-commerce, where we can buy items online at whatever time we choose); go out for a meal or go to sleep at night.

Before we know it, weeks fly by and time itself seems to accelerate between fixed periods, such as seasons and years.  We talk about ‘losing track of time’ or ‘wasting time’ because we understand how important it is to us.  Although we are immersed in it, it sometimes feels as though that immersion is leading to drowning, where we feel that we are ‘running out of time’.

Judaism takes us out of the ‘water’ and as we read in Chapter 2.10, so does Moses’ name.

“And she called his name Moses (Moshe) – ‘va’tomer, ki min hamayim meshituhu’ – ‘because out of the water, I drew him’.

How can one immerse oneself in time, without losing track of it?

The answer is by making the ‘time count’.  Six days of the week can fly by, but when the        25-hour period that we call Shabbat enters, we pause and endow the day with a special sanctity.  For some, this can include coming to shul and joining in a service.  For others, it may revolve around the Friday night meal.  We don’t need 3D spectacles, Cinema X or Virtual Reality headsets to immerse ourselves into Shabbat.  We just need to take the time to enjoy the experience that it gives us.

As we read through the first few Parshiot of Sefer Shemot which detail first the slavery and then the Exodus, we will look forward to the ultimate immersive experience when we recall our ancestor’s lives in Egypt at the Pesach Sedarim.  The matzah, the maror, the charoset and the vegetables that we dip into salt water.  This is Jewish time.  This is our Immersive Technology.

Returning to my younger self, if I wanted to imagine what it must have been like to spend my last night in Egypt, I just had to stay awake long enough after the Mah Nishtana, to appreciate the Torah not only in three dimensions but also into the fourth, the one which includes food!

How do I immerse myself in time?

I follow the Jewish Calendar which takes me on an annual ride starting in Egypt over three thousand three hundred years ago; the Persian and Greek Empires (Purim and Chanukah); the Babylonian and Roman Empires (Tisha B’Av and the other associated fasts) and finally to the present day with the re-establishment of our wonderful state in 1948 and reunification of Jerusalem nineteen years later.  Let’s not forget the festival when we move our entire bodies out of our houses.  How much more immersed could we be?

And all this within the span of a lunar year.

Fads such as 3D come and go and salespeople will continue to do their utmost to convince us that ‘this technology’ is the best one yet.  As Jews, we can take a moment and share with them our greatest immersive invention – the Jewish calendar.

Have a fully immersive and peaceful Shabbat!

Shavuah Tov.

Parashat Vayechi: Biblical Leadership in the 21st Century

 Dedicated in respectful and loving memory of HaRav Avraham di Yitzchak HaLevy

Just over a month ago, on the 1^st December, I celebrated my 55th birthday.

One of the first thoughts that entered my mind after the shock of realising that I had reached my mid-fifties (they say that fifty is the ‘new thirty’ but I remain to be convinced) was the mathematical fact that I am now half the age that Joseph was when he died at 110.  His passing, at the end of this week’s Parasha also marks the conclusion of Sefer Bereishit.

More thoughts entered my mind.  Not only was Joseph 110 when he passed away, but so was Joshua, his great-great-great grandson.  Joshua’s grandfather’s grandfather was Ephraim, Joseph’s younger son.

Life is to a certain degree whatever we make of it.  We can flit through our twenties, thirties and even early forties hardly aware of what might come next.  After all, many of us are focused on two distinct strands.  These centre around our careers and finding a spouse.  For some, the former is easier than the latter.  For others, it is the reverse.  Blink for an instant and your twenties are a memory.  Blink again and you’re in your mid-thirties.  By the time you reach your forties, your eyes may require some assistance in the form of glasses to help you focus on what’s in-front of you after you’ve blinked.

And then you hit fifty.  Hopefully, you have a career to look back on, in whatever field of employment you found yourself pursuing.

55 happens and you think to yourself, “What have I achieved?”

What can I aspire to be?

Who can I look to as my role model?

You might have already chosen someone, but the thought that hit me squarely in the face was this.  I’m 55, Joseph and Joshua died at 110.  If in the unlikely event I happen to double my current innings and bow out at their venerable ages, what will they have taught me and is this relevant today in my lifetime?

My mind wandered and wondered and the vision that became clear focused on the similarities between these two peoples’ lives.  (With the help of spectacles, I should add…I am in my mid-fifties after all!)

Both grew up in difficult circumstances.

Joseph lost his mother at an early age and we know what transpired when he was seventeen.

His rise to power was anything but guaranteed.  Having raised the ire of his brothers through being the favoured son, they were about to kill him but fortunately abandoned that plan.  Thirteen years later, he rose to the position of Vizier of Egypt.

Joshua was raised as a slave in Egypt.  We know little about him until his name is mentioned in connection with the attack by the Amalekites on the Bnei Yisrael at Rephidim two months after the exodus from Egypt.  Moses asked him to ‘Choose men for us and go out and do battle against Amalek’ (in Parashat Beshalach) and we learn that he led the Israelites to victory which is a portend of what would take place in the future.  We can therefore assume that Moses’ had noticed Joshua’s leadership skills from an early age.

Joshua and Calev rendered themselves extremely unpopular when they justly opposed the other ten spies’ flawed reports of the Promised Land.  Both men narrowly avoided being killed (see Bemidbar 14.10 – ‘The community, all threatened to stone them to death but then the Lord’s glory was revealed to all the Israelites at the Tent of Meeting’).  Does this not sound familiar?

Joseph was responsible for bringing his family into Egypt whilst Joshua brought their descendants back into the land they had originally left centuries before.

Joseph took care of his brothers and Joshua looked after their descendants.  Joshua also ensured that his ancestor’s mortal remains were buried in Shechem fulfilling the final request that Joseph made shortly before he died as we read in the Parasha’s penultimate verse:

Then Joseph bound the children of Israel by an oath: “When Gd takes note of you, carry my bones up from this place.”

Two men who shared a familial bond and much more than that.  These are some of the greatest leaders our people have ever known.

We have been blessed to be led by many great Jacobs, Josephs, Ephraims and Joshuas since then.  The late Rabbi Sacks’ Hebrew name was HaRav Yaakov Zvi whilst our current Chief Rabbi, of whom we are also proud has just been knighted.  He bears the name of Joseph’s youngest son and we can heartily wish a huge Mazeltov to Rabbi Sir Ephraim Mirvis!

One of Anglo Jewry’s greatest leaders in the late 20^th and early 21^st century, Rabbi Abraham Levy ztl bore the names of two of the patriarchs – HaRav Avraham di Yitzchak.  His name, alongside Rabbi Sacks and Rabbi Yosef Carmel shlita highlight the Biblical connection with my own status as a Rabbi as their signatures grace the bottom of my Semicha Certificate.

Rabbi Sacks, writing about Joseph states:

Every leader who stands for anything will face opposition…any leader elected to anything, or more loved or gifted than others, will face envy.  Rivals will say, “Why wasn’t it me?”  That is what Korach thought about Moses and Aaron.  It is what the brothers thought about Joseph when they saw that their father loved him more than them.  It is what Antonio Salieri thought about the more gifted Mozart according to Peter Shaffer’s play ‘Amadeus’.

Fortunately, Rabbi Levy did not have to endure the nightmare that was visited upon Joseph, Joshua or indeed Mozart!  He did however, like the Biblical heroes I have mentioned, demonstrate the fact that there are among us rare individuals who dedicate their lives to tangibly demonstrating their love for each and every Jew, irrespective of his or her religious belief and observance.  To Rabbi Levy, all Jews were equal and deserved to be treated as such.  Although he did not live until the age of 110, the majority of his 83 years (which incidentally matched those of my mother) were spent serving and leading our people.

Despite tremendous opposition from some within the Spanish and Portuguese Sephardi Community, he established the Naima JPS.  Their website bears the following message, part of which reads:

“It is with tremendous sadness that we regret to share the news of the passing of our beloved founder Rabbi Dr Abraham Levy OBE

Rabbi Levy was and always will be the heart and soul of Naima Jewish Preparatory School.

In his moving memoir ‘A Rocky Road’ (2017) he writes:

Against the persistent opposition, I took comfort from the following thought.  Every day in our morning prayers (just before the Shema), two of the qualities we ascribe to Gd are ‘oseh chadashot’ and ‘ba’al hamilchamot’, ‘Creater of new things’ and ‘Master of wars’.

Put the two together and you derive the idea that you can’t do anything new without stirring up arguments against it.  Some within the lay leadership of the congregation simply did not like the thought that someone they considered an employee had the nerve to do something without their blessing.  Some, perhaps, worried that it would distract me from my ministerial duties.  But there was the prevalent fear that I might fall flat on my face, that the school would prove unviable and end up a stain on the congregation’s good name.

In September 1983, JPS opened its doors to its first complement of pupils, fifteen girls and thirteen boys in a nursery and reception class.  It was an encouraging number.  For our motto, I chose a verse from Proverbs, “start a child on the right road and even in old age he will not leave.”

When I visited his son, Julian at the shivah, you could see the pride on his face when he mentioned the immense joy his father felt when he met the grandchildren of those children, who now attend the school.

He was the visionary who set up the Rabbinical (Semicha) Programme which had been discontinued when Jews’ College closed down at the end of the 1990s.  As Honorary Principal of the Judith Lady Montefiore College, he (in partnership with Lucien Gubbay, the Chairman) was instrumental in ensuring that my fellow students and I were able to receive fully funded extensive rabbinical instruction.  His remit was for the College to train open-minded and outward looking graduates to occupy traditional British pulpits, both in and outside the United Synagogue.  There were times during the rigorous course when many of us lacked self-belief in our abilities to succeed but through it all, Rabbi Levy always believed in us.

His gentle inspiring words and limitless support were always available.  When I enrolled on the course and began my studies shortly before my 46^th birthday, although I was understandably apprehensive, knowing that Rabbi Levy was our Principal was very reassuring.  We were later honoured to be gifted a copy of his memoirs which he personally signed for each of us.  His generosity knew no bounds.

Joseph, Joshua and Rabbi Levy are not the type of leaders who grace us very often and they continue to inspire, long after they have left their earthly forms.

Someone famously wrote:

I believe the children are our future
Teach them well and let them lead the way…

In his blessings to Israel at the end of this week’s Parasha, Joseph echoed the same sentiment.

Joshua, the student of our greatest Rabbi became the person who, with Gd’s instruction, brought us back to our land.

Rabbi Levy showed us how we too can lead the way, from the youngest child in his nursery to the oldest student in his Rabbinical College.  The wisdom he imparted to his fellow Jews and Gentiles will continue to inspire me for the rest of my life.

Yehi Zichro Baruch – may his memory be a blessing to K’lal Yisrael.

Shavuah Tov

 

Parashat Miketz (Chanukah): Dreams

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 beside them on the riverbank. The ugly gaunt cows ate up the seven handsome healthy cows. Pharaoh awoke. (Translation by Rabbi Sacks ztl in the Koren Magerman Tanach) Bereshit 41:1-4

After relating the contents of the next dream (which I will discuss later), the Torah tells us that a very troubled Pharaoh tried to understand the meaning of his dream but none of Egypt's finest astrologers or sages could 'offer an interpretation that satisfied him.' Whereupon the chief cupbearer related his experiences in prison with a young Hebrew slave. We know what happened next.

Like you, I've read this story countless times and I can even sing the song from the musical, but have you ever wondered how Joseph instinctively knew that the seven cows and the seven sheaves of corn from the King's second dream related to time - namely the years of plenty and famine that would overtake the country?

I will be referring to a fascinating series of shiurim given by Rabbi David Fohrman on the topic of Joseph's dreams, some of which are described in this week's Parasha (you can find out more at http://www.alephbeta.org)

Rabbi Fohrman makes the point that the astrologers were unable to interpolate the idea of time from those dreams. Our commentators explain that they believed that the seven cows could be representing a number of different elements in the Kingdom such as the number of crops or how many daughters had been fathered by Pharaoh. 'Time' never entered their thoughts.

If we put this to one side for a moment, let us examine the situation that 30-year-old Joseph found himself in. Over a period of 13 years, he had been sold at the age of 17 and was now standing before the throne. The following had taken place:

·         Joseph interpreted his dreams to his family.

·         He was given a beautiful coat by his father.

·         He was sent by Jacob to find out what had happened to his brothers and their flocks.

·         The brothers removed his coat and shortly afterwards, tore it to shreds.

·         Joseph was thrown into the pit (which is called a 'be'or' in Hebrew).

·         He was sold to Potiphar and thrown into prison after a wrongful accusation of rape by his master’s wife. He stayed there for up to 12 years (according to the Mishna Tanchuma Chapter 9), which also factors in the two additional years he received as punishment for asking the butler to request his release.

·         After Pharaoh's dreams, Joseph was rescued from prison (for which the Torah also uses the word 'be'or') by Pharaoh

·         He was given new clothes to wear.

·         He interpreted Pharaoh's dreams.

In shorthand, we can order these events as follows:

Dreams - given coat - sent away by his father - coat removed - thrown into the pit - removed, sold, thrown into prison - rescued from the 'pit' by Pharaoh - given new clothes - interpreted the King's dreams. 

The story detailed in Parshiot Vayeishev and Mikeitz can be seen to form a textual structure called a chiasm, where the events at the beginning are mirrored in reverse at the end. In Hebrew, this is called an ATBASH which is an acronym for:

Aleph, Tav, Bet, Shin, followed by Gimmel/Resh, Dalet/Kuf etc).

How is this relevant to our topic of Joseph connecting the dots in his master's dreams to come up with the answer he does (i.e., the seven cows representing seven years)?

The clue lies in the language that Pharaoh used to describe the cows. Referring back to the text, he said that he saw 'seven handsome (or 'beautiful of form') healthy cows'. The word the Torah uses to describe 'handsome' is v’yifot to’ar.

As Rabbi Fohrman likes to say: 'where have we seen this before'?

In fact, only two people in the entire Torah are referred to as being yafeh to'ar and yafeh mareh (literally, 'beautiful to behold') and these are Joseph and his mother, Rachel.

In Parashat Vayetzei, The Torah tells us that 'v'Rachel hayetah yefat toar vi’fat mareh, and Rachel was beautiful of form and had beautiful appearance'

We also know that Jacob loved Rachel and initially agreed to work seven years for his deceitful uncle in order to gain her hand in marriage. After the sisters were swapped, he worked another seven years. The first seven years ended up in his marrying Leah and the second period was undertaken for Rachel's hand.

Coming to the second set of Pharaoh's cows, the King describes them:

'Vehineh sheva-parot acherot olot achareihen, so after this, seven really ugly cows came out of the river too. Dalot v’Ra’ot to’ar, they were poor and really ugly, v’rakot basar, they were thin and gaunt.'

The word 'rakot' though spelled differently in Hebrew, is a homonym and the only other time it is used in the Torah is when describing Leah, in the same verse as the one I quoted regarding Rachel.

'v'einei Leah rakot - and Leah's eyes were thin (or soft).'

It is entirely conceivable that Joseph related the two periods of seven years to his father's experience labouring for his uncle (not including the final six years which followed the fourteen and were not connected to the marriages.)

Initially in Pharaoh's dream, for a short while, seven well-fed cows grazed alongside seven emaciated ones. Then, something remarkable happened, the seven thin cows feasted on the others until the first set had been entirely swallowed up and astonishingly, the gaunt cows didn't change their shape or form as a result of this action.

It is very likely that in trying to interpret the dreams, Joseph's thoughts would have focused on what his brothers (of whom, the majority were the children of Leah) did to him. They threw their sibling into the pit. It was as though he too had been swallowed up. He was sold on and disappeared and as far as he was concerned, it was as though he'd never existed in their lives. This being despite his own dreams that they would bow down to him (as described at the start of Vayeishev). Nobody, looking at the brothers, would realise that they had carried out this crime which bordered on fratricide. Like the cows, the brothers did not change their appearance or demeanour.

One could even say that the Leah cows had swallowed the Rachel cow. 

Returning to Jacob who had worked for seven years to marry Rachel, can you imagine how he must have felt when he woke up next to her sister, Leah? I would guess that he probably questioned the validity of his previous seven years’ labour. He'd no doubt believed that all his work had been for naught, as it were, swallowed up. Jacob married Rachel a week later but had to work for another seven years, to pay his uncle for his youngest daughter’s hand.

The result of Jacob's efforts in winning his beloved's hand in marriage is through the birth of Joseph which the Torah described in last week’s parasha as yefat to’ar vi’fe mareh (can you see the language is nearly identical to Rachel’s description?)

If we summarise the strands we've discussed, we have a situation where Joseph sees Pharaoh as a father figure who has rescued him from the 'pit' and in the process has brought to an end the cycle he has endured over the last 13 years. When he hears Pharaoh's first dream, he relates to it through his own family history and the challenging situation that concerned his father's efforts – the two seven year periods spent winning his mother's hand in marriage. He adds to this, how he sees himself as the 'fat cow' that was swallowed by his brothers, the thin cows. 

As far as he is concerned, explaining Pharaoh's first dream is a 'no brainer'. It all makes sense to him. That he can use these thoughts to interpret the dream is the way in which Gd enables him to be able to connect the dots. This gift is not granted to the astrologers.

The clincher is that, now, as Rabbi Fohrman puts it so beautifully, the fat cows must look after the thin ones. The situation has changed and that is where Joseph's interpretation of the first dream and Pharaoh's second dream come to the fore.

This is my own interpretation, based on Rabbi Sacks’ teachings. What is Joseph's first dream?

There we were binding sheaves in the field, when suddenly my sheaf stood up and remained upright; then your sheaves gathered around and bowed low to my sheaf.” (Genesis 37)

What is Pharaoh's second dream?

He fell asleep and dreamed a second time: Seven ears of grain, solid and healthy, grew on a single stalk. (But close behind them sprouted seven ears, thin and scorched by the east wind.  And the thin ears swallowed up the seven solid and full ears. Then Pharaoh awoke: it was a dream! (41)

Both dreams cover a similar theme, namely, the source of food which is wheat. 

Egypt, renowned as the breadbasket of the world was going to be stricken by a severe famine. Joseph was waiting for his own dream to be realised and for this to happen, there would need to be a confluence of both scenarios. In other words, his family would eventually bow down to him in order to receive their sustenance in the form of grain. It only made sense that Pharaoh's second dream underscored his first one, quite literally. It is less of a leap to interpret the second dream if you understand the meaning of the first. Joseph himself states this when he sums up both dreams by saying:

“Pharaoh’s dreams are one and the same: Pharaoh has been told what Gd is about to do. The seven healthy cows are seven years, and the seven healthy ears are seven years; it is the same dream.

As Jews, we know how significant dreams can be, not only throughout the Tanach but, sometimes in our own lives. Joseph was punished by having his prison sentence elongated by two years (according to Rashi) because he placed his trust in the Butler whose dream he had interpreted, instead of believing that Gd was working behind the scenes. Sometimes, like Joseph, we too go through our own chiasm, our very own Atbash and can't see how events pan out for the better. Maybe it behoves us to take a moment, every now and again, and join the dots that make up our own lives. The events that led us to where we are today and where we could be tomorrow. Sometimes, when we feel 'swallowed up', we could look at the story of Joseph and gain some comfort in the knowledge that, as the song goes 'things can only get better'.  They did for Joseph and they can for us too.

Shavuah Tov, Chanukah Sameach and Chodesh Tov.

Parashat Veyeishev - Hats and Coats

 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 childbirth (our Rabbis tell us that she was only 36).  If this was not tragic enough, his daughter was violated by Shechem and the subsequent massacre of the male population of the town of Shechem was carried out by two of his sons.  The family, who had spent ten years travelling from Charan, were forced to flee.  Can’t the poor man settle down and enjoy life?  Will he ever be able to lay his hat down in his tent and call this abode ‘home’?  (I’m paraphrasing the popular song). 

The first verse in this week’s Parasha seems to indicate that this is the case.

Genesis 37:1

Now Jacob was settled in the land where his father had lived as a stranger, in the land of Canaan.

Chizkuni, a 13th Century French Commentator writes that this verse follows the description of Eisav and his descendants' settlement of Edom and Mount Seir, an area which lies in Southwestern Jordan between the Dead Sea and Aqaba and includes the ancient city of Petra.  He says that, in the same way that Eisav had settled the land, although he had initially entered it as an alien to the area, Jacob was also able to claim Canaan as his birth right.  This is contrasted with his father and grandfather's existence as 'strangers' when they inhabited the country.

For all intents and purposes, the Torah is telling us that Jacob was finally home and his nomadic existence had come to an end.  He could take his hat off and place it safely on the biblical version of a hatstand.  If we work out the arithmetic, we can see that he was 108 years old when Joseph was sold into slavery (He died at 147 and lived his last 17 years in Egypt having been reunited with his son after an absence of 22 years). 

Seder Olam Rabba, a 2nd Century CE Jewish chronology, tells us that Jacob and his entourage finally arrived in Canaan nine years before the events that are about to be described took place, when Joseph was 17.  His life too had been tumultuous, having left his grandfather Lavan's house two years previously and then losing his mother Rachel at the young age of 36, six months earlier in Bethlehem inside the border of the land.  He'd lived in Hebron for less than a decade.  He was too young to wear a hat, so he might have used the 'hatstand' for his expensive new coat!

We know what happened next and how the family was splintered as a result of the nefarious selling of Joseph by his brothers (excluding Benjamin) and his transportation to Egypt.  This episode is followed by the sad tale of Judah who, after the sale, was rightfully blamed by his brothers for their actions and as we are told 'left his brothers' (see Chapter 38).  He doesn't reappear as part of the family until Chapter 43, after they have returned from Egypt having met Joseph for the first time in over a decade.

If we consider the impact all of this has had on a very elderly man and his offspring, we have a pretty sad state of affairs.  We began reading the Parasha with such a sense of hope.  Didn't we say that Jacob was settled in the land?  Didn't we emphasise the fact that he had finally started to see that the promise given to his grandfather and then passed on to his father, was coming to fruition?  By the time we reach Chapter 43, our history is anything but settled.  As for Joseph's coat, the hatstand may still be in place, but the once beautiful garment now lies tattered.  Lord knows where Jacob’s hat can be located.

'England has been all she could be to the Jews - The Jews will be all they can be to England.' Thus was writ the banner outside the offices of the Jewish Chronicle at the start of World War 1.  By the end of the war, no less than 2,425 Jewish servicemen had been killed, along with 6,500 wounded.  Another 700 were killed fighting for this country during the Second World War.  Over 3000 Jewish citizens died protecting the United Kingdom over the span of both wars.

I know that many of us saw the recent David Baddiel documentary 'Jews Don't Count' on Channel 4.  Some of us also read the book.  The programme made for depressing viewing, didn’t it?  Baddiel stated that it wasn't aimed at us but at our non-Jewish fellow citizens.  How many viewers asked the question that occupied my mind, both when reading the book and watching the programme?

It went along the lines of:

We were readmitted to this country over 350 years ago.  We fought to be recognised metaphorically and physically.  To be represented in Parliament.  To be able to attend university, followed by our children.  To take up any profession or skill that we could.  We strove to be treated as equals in the eyes of our countrymen and women.  Why, after more than three centuries, have we come to the conclusion, according to Mr Baddiel and many others that 'we don't count'?

Do you feel settled?

Do you feel as important as anyone else?

Did you or your father or grandfather risk his life to protect the entire nation, irrespective of their religious background?

In short, are we settled?  Can we truly feel secure in being able to place our hats and coats onto the hooks or coat stands that greet us as we open our front doors?  Are we able to send our children to school in Stamford Hill truly safe in the knowledge that they will come home without being attacked?

Must we really spend thousands of pounds of money that we don't have, to pay for security guards and CCTV systems and the exorbitant costs that go hand-in-hand with maintaining these?

 

Tonight, we will start celebrating the festival of Chanukah, where we commemorate the miracle of the Menorah that should have provided enough light for one day but miraculously lit up the Beit Hamikdash for a further seven.

People tend to forget that the victory of Yehudah HaMacabee, and his four brothers, in ending the Seleucid rule over Israel was fought on two fronts.  The first, against the Syrian Greeks themselves and the second, against the Hellenized Jews who controlled the Temple.  In both cases, a culture that was alien to our nation had infected the deepest foundations of our faith.  Our Holy Beit Hamikdash had been defiled.  Where we thought we had settled, having returned from the Babylonian Exile, we had instead settled, in a different way - by allowing ourselves to lose our national soul.  The Maccabees returned our people to the land of Israel physically, by fighting against the prevailing army, and spiritually, by reinstating and repairing the Beit Hamikdash to the point that the Hasmonean brothers smashed up the defiled altar and built a new, pure one.

The victory of the Maccabees was all the more significant as it showed that, when we put our minds to it, we can prove that Jews DO count.  In spite of the desire of others to question our legitimacy as rightful citizens of the land (as sadly, do many in the world today, when it comes to recognising the State of Israel), we stood firm and we prevailed. 

Tragically, in ancient Israel, our residency was cut-short just over a century later but we didn't lose hope and forever considered ourselves 'permanent settlers' for nearly two millennia.

Jacob's desire to settle is pitted against the events that transpired to change his plans.  This is our story - the history of the Jewish people.  Where we sought to lay down roots and remove our hats and coats, we were frustrated in our efforts.  Yet, we have never given up hope of achieving this.  Jacob’s journey to Egypt eventually led us into centuries of slavery, but didn't quell our desire to maintain our faith, despite the hardships his descendants faced. 

Although our presence in the United Kingdom over the last three and a half centuries is not analogous to the bitter and cruel conditions that faced our ancestors, there is the sad fact that some of our fellow citizens question our legitimacy as equals living in the same country. 

Jewish history is a chronicle of how we settled and were unsettled.  How we donned our hats and coats in the belief that they would remain for a while in situ and how we found ourselves having to wear them sooner than we had envisaged, as we faced a hostile climate.  How we were, in the words of Mendel, 'forced out of many, many places at a moment's notice' and how we, like the Maccabees, didn't give in when given a chance, to fight for our legitimacy as equal citizens of the countries in which we resided.

Jacob eventually settled in Egypt and didn't live to see his descendants returning to Israel, many, many times, leading to the miraculous events that rocked the world in 1948.

Our ancestors settled in England and look what we have achieved, despite the challenges we have faced. We might wear our hats and don our coats, but these days, it's to help protect us from the cold weather - just like everyone else.

Perhaps, we can gain some comfort from the lyrics of the famous song:

‘Grab your coat

Grab your hat, (baby)

Leave your worries on the doorstep

Just direct your feet

On the sunny side of the street’

When it comes to being settled in this country, history has shown us that, despite the will of others, we aren't leaving any time soon.  As always, we hope and pray that sunnier days lie ahead.  May Moshiach bring them speedily!

Shavuah Tov and Chanukah Sameach!

Parashat Vayishlach - Livin' on a (Jewish) Prayer

 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’.  They walked out of the studio where they had just recorded the track and he added, “Eh, it’s okay.  Maybe we should just put it on a movie soundtrack.”  Richie looked at him and said, “You’re an idiot.  It’s really good.” Jon said, “I just don’t know where it’s going. But it didn’t have that boom-boom-boom bassline yet, so it sounded more like The Clash.”

Fortunately, for the rest of us, he was proven wrong, granted that the track was a worldwide hit and in 2013, achieved 3 times Platinum status in countries like the USA (where it hit the number 1 spot, selling 3,400,000 copies to date, of which 3 million are downloads) and in the UK where it sold 1,800,000 copies.  As of July 2022, it has had over 963,000,000 views on YouTube.  Not bad for an ‘OK’ song.  I would hazard a guess that when you consider Bon Jovi’s oeuvre, ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ immediately comes to mind.  No surprise as it is viewed as their signature song.

Jon Bon Jovi was raised in the Catholic faith emanating from an American-Italian family, originally from Sicily.  Although not religious himself, he, along with his co-writers, based the song on some real-life couples (including Richie’s parents) whose life decisions were formulated from their deep-seated faith.  Through thick and thin, the partners remained together and their abiding religious beliefs pulled them through the peaks and troughs that mark our journey through life.

This song comes to mind when I look at the precarious situation that Jacob finds himself in at the start of this week’s Parasha.

He was facing the very real threat that his twin brother, Eisav accompanied by 400 men, would surely exact his violent revenge for what had transpired twenty years previously over the deception of their father.  Jacob, a man of deep faith was troubled by his own previous behaviour, which he feared Gd might punish him for.

As per the commentary in the Artscroll Stone Chumash, Rashi explains the notion that righteous people like Jacob are ‘never sure of themselves’ and that he may have ‘forfeited his right’ to Gd’s protection.  The Midrash adds that Jacob was frightened by the fact that he was frightened.  In other words, his fear might have indicated a lack of faith in Gd in the first place.

He therefore chose a three-pronged approach.

1.    He created two camps, dividing the people travelling together in their human caravan.  He kept his wives and children together so that (according to the Abarbanel) he was able to place them in the rear of one camp accompanied by males, maidservants and cattle so that they could be protected.  Jacob, along with the other people and animals, remained in the first camp so that, should the worst happen and Eisav attacked them, the second camp would be able to flee to safety.

2.    He prayed to Gd and asked to be rescued and allowed to return to Canaan (see Verses 10 to 13).

3.    He sent an extremely generous and lavish gift to Eisav consisting of hundreds of goats, ewes, rams, camels, cows, bulls and donkeys.

Jacob’s life, and those of his loved ones, were in the balance as far as he was concerned.  To survive, he would need to do more than ‘live on a prayer’.  In choosing to formulate this approach, he demonstrated the Jewish way to face an existential threat.

It’s like that old joke, where the man prays to Gd to win the lottery and after forty years without success, cries out bitterly that Gd is not answering his prayers.  Whereupon Hashem visits him in a dream and says, “I’ll meet you halfway but first of all, you have to buy a ticket!”

There is a concept in Judaism called Hishtadlut.

The Midrash  in Shir Hashirim Raba (Song of Songs 1.1) relates the story of a Sage, Rabbi Chanina ben Dosa who saw the residents of his city taking up burnt offerings and peace offerings to the Beit Hamikdash. He wanted to do the same but was quite impoverished and couldn’t afford to buy anything that would be worthy of being donated to the Holy Temple.  Whilst going for a walk one day, he came across a beautiful looking stone which he felt would be fitting for the Temple.  However, it was too heavy for him to pick up.  He tried to enquire how much it would cost to hire some men to carry the stone for him but again, the price quoted, which was 100 gold pieces was prohibitive.  Then, five workers approached and offered to help him lift the stone for the sum of five sela, which was very little. They laid down a single condition.  He too must be involved in the process by placing his hands under the stone to assist them in lifting it up.  He agreed to this, grasped the stone from underneath and looked around to see that they had been transported miraculously to the Temple.  The men however, had disappeared and he was unable to pay them for they had been angels who were sent by Gd to help this pure-hearted man achieve his goal.

The question that we ask is, “If these men were angels in disguise, why did they ask him to put his hands under the stone to lift it?  They could have done the work without him?”  The answer is that, for Hashem to help us, we need to do our bit too.  That is hishtadlut.

Jacob could have placed all his faith in Gd to protect everyone.  That he incorporated his prayers into his general plan of action tells us that prayer, as important as it is, is not enough.     If we want Gd to help us, we must play our part too.  We have to buy that lottery ticket; The IDF needs feet on the ground to protect our holy country.

When we recite the prayer for the State of Israel and Tzahal, we say:

“Put into their hearts the love and fear of You to uphold it (i.e. the country) with justice and righteousness…Heavenly Father: remember the Israel Defence Forces, guardians of our Holy Land.  Protect them from all distress and anguish and send blessings and success to all the work of their hands…’

Judaism recognises that hishtadlut which means ‘human efforts expressing man’s free will’ must work alongside ‘bitachon’ – faith in Gd, in order to ensure that we receive the blessings that we hope he will shower upon us.

Returning to the lyrics of the song, we can relate these to this idea.

With Hishtadlut, we are half-way there.  And if we do our bit, He will help us to ‘live’ on a prayer.

May Hashem continue to answer our prayers and may we endeavour to play our part in bringing about our salvation.  We need to remind him and ourselves that before receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai we were the only nation that pledged to ‘do what He asked of us and listen to His words’ – na’aseh venishmah.  It’s not enough to do without listening to His words.  It’s not enough to listen to His words, without making an effort on our part.  In other words, we are ‘livin’ on a prayer’ whilst simultaneously engaging in Hishtadlut.

It is the perfect partnership and as we’ve seen, through the millennia, it is our proven recipe for survival.

Shavuah Tov