Parashat Vayeitzei: Yaakov Avinu...and the Bishop

https://curiousrambler.com/the-upside-down-angels-of-bath-abbey/

‘And he dreamed: He saw a ladder set upon the ground, whose top reached the heavens.  On it, angels of Gd went up and came down.
The L-rd stood over him there and said, “I am the L-rd, the Gd of Avraham your father and the Gd of Yitzchak.  The land on which you lie I will give to you and your descendants.  Your descendants shall be like the dust of the earth and you will spread out to the west, the east, the north and the south.  Through you and your descendants, all the families of the earth will be blessed.  I am with you.  I will protect you wherever you go and I will bring you back to this land, for I will not leave you until I have done what I have spoken of to you”.  (Rabbi Sacks’ translation, The Koren Tanach, Magerman Ed.)

In August, I had the pleasure of spending a day with some very dear cousins who were visiting briefly from America.  They kindly invited me to join them on a tour of Stonehenge and Bath.  If you’ve visited the city, you might recall that the entrance to the Roman baths is situated in ‘Abbey Churchyard’ square which is dominated by the impressive West Front of Bath Abbey.

As we entered the square, our guide asked us to look at the Abbey and drew our attention to a most remarkable site.  Above the door, there is a sizeable arch, comprising of numerous windows of varying sizes which takes up most of the facade.  On either side of the glass, there is a ladder carved into the masonry which holds six angels apiece, climbing and descending the rungs.

Our guide told us that in the late 15^th century, the Bishop of Bath, Oliver King found the Abbey to be in a significant state of disrepair.  He was in a quandary as to whether he should order it to be destroyed and then rebuilt.  He prayed fervently for a Divine response.

This came to him one night where, like Yaakov, he had a dream about a ladder with accompanying angels.  He thereupon decided that, in this house of worship, he would commemorate the significance of his vision which led to the creation we see today.

Having related the story, she advised us to visit the city and return an hour later to take up our allotted place in the queue.  I waited for the others to go on their merry way and had a quiet word with the guide, telling her that Bishop King might have had a dream about ladders and angels, but he wasn’t the first to encounter this.  To my surprise, she admitted that her knowledge of the ‘Old Testament’ wasn’t too comprehensive and that she would ‘check up on this’.

True to her word, when we met later, she came over and smiled, telling me that I was ‘right, it was there in the Bible!’  I smiled sweetly and did not respond.

I don’t know whether the bishop had such a dream or quite literally ‘dreamt up’ the idea from his knowledge of the ‘Good Book’, but the uncanny resemblance of the Abbey’s frontage to the description provided in this week’s Parasha is quite astonishing.

According to Wikipedia, the Bible is the ‘best-selling publication of all time’ having sold five billion copies, although I don’t know how that number has been calculated.  If this statistic is accurate, this means that it has been read by nearly two thirds of the world’s population.

Its many stories have been ubiquitous in the development of western culture, inspiring Verdi’s ‘Nabucco’, Rembrandt’s ‘Belshazzar’s Feast’, Michaelangelo’s ‘David’ and Steinbeck’s ‘East of Eden’.  The book is continuously referenced by journalists and reporters when they describe nature’s destructive behaviour as ‘taking on Biblical Proportions’.

As someone who has always loved reading the Bible and obviously, as a Jew, the Tanach (as opposed to the New Testament), I derive a great deal of pleasure when I read of its influence on the rest of the world.  My only wish is that our fellow human beings would try to look more closely at the narrative ‘behind the stories’ that are so well known.  The Bible might have been read by five billion people but how many of these really understand its significance?

Yaakov’s dream has been interpreted in a myriad of ways by our commentators.

It is the first time that Gd appeared to him when he was 63 years old.  This is important because we know quite a bit about Yaakov Avinu from last week’s Parasha.

He was a devout man.  We learn that whilst his twin brother liked to hunt, Yaakov spent his time living in tents, which Rashi understands to mean that he studied in the presence of his wise ancestors Shem and his son Ever.

He was also conscious of his position as a grandson of Avraham and son of Yitzchak Avinu.  He knew what was expected of him and how to behave appropriately, as witnessed by his preparing a lentil stew to give to his grieving father upon the death of his own father, Avraham Avinu.

Our Sages tell us that although Yaakov had to resort to deception to receive his father’s blessing (for which he was later punished when his sons lied to him about the sale of Joseph), he was always destined to receive this from Yitzchak.  This was Gd’s intention when he spoke to Avraham regarding his descendants and of their eventual ownership of the land of Israel.

All of the above had taken place without Yaakov experiencing any communication from Gd.  His faith had sustained him until that point and now, he was running for his life from the home he had grown up in.  He was leaving behind his entire existence until that point.  It was at this very moment that Gd appeared to Yaakov and reassured him that He would never leave his side.  The angels climbing up the ladder would accompany him to the edge of the land of Israel/Canaan, as they were not allowed to leave the country and the angels who were descending would accompany him to his next destination (Rashi quoting Bereshit Rabba 68.12) and he adds that when it states that ‘The Lord stood over him’, this means that Gd was telling Yaakov that He would protect him from harm.

The examples I have cited demonstrate how our tradition of interpreting the text beyond the simple meaning adds a depth to our understanding of the message being conveyed.  The direction that the angels take is not accidental.  Similarly, regarding Gd’s communication with Yaakov precisely at that juncture in his life.

The message that Gd is conveying to Yaakov is as timely then as it is now.

He says:

I am with you.  I will protect you wherever you go and I will bring you back to this land, for I will not leave you until I have done what I have spoken of to you

During these very dark times, when there is so much to fear, I believe that we can gain some comfort from the fact that, despite all that has happened to our nation, particularly in the last month, we have returned to the land, reclaimed most of the country (despite international opposition) and Gd has not abandoned us and will never do so.

We may not be worthy to have dreams like Yaakov (I’ll let you decide whether He appeared to Bishop King!) and we might wonder whether we too are granted a set of angels (beyond Friday nights when they accompany us back from Shul).  Many of us believe that the promise Gd gave to Yaakov is as relevant today as it was when our patriarch decided to lay down for the night using a rock as a pillow (or numerous rocks according to our commentators) and dream about Gd, ladders and angels.

Setting aside the huge cultural impact of the Bible in the examples that I have cited, for us ‘The People of the Book’, it does not only inspire our music or art.  It does much more than that.  It inhabits our mind, heart and soul.

Torah Tziva Lanu Moshe, Morasha Kehillat Yaakov.  The Torah that Moshe commanded us is the heritage of the congregation of Yaakov (Devarim 33.4)

Shavuah Tov.

 

Parashat Toldot: Alone Together

 I have a strong affiliation with this week’s Parasha of Toldot as it is my Bar Mitzvah Sedra.

My Hebrew birthday was last Monday, 13^th November which tallies with 29^th (Mar)Cheshvan in the Hebrew calendar.  It is also known as Erev Rosh Chodesh Kislev.

This year, the commemoration of my birthday has been somewhat muted as it is the first one in my life that I haven’t had my father by my side, physically or metaphorically, to mark the day.  I used to tease my parents by telephoning them and asking them to wish me a ‘Happy Birthday’.  As an only child, you’d expect them to remember the date of their son’s birthday!  We always laughed about this.

In 2023, neither my mother nor father were there to join me in marking the anniversary of my entering the world.

I regard Parashat Toldot (which is always recited in the week of my birthday) as being ‘my Sedra’.  It has always had a significant impact on my thought process; all the more so this year.

From an early age, Mum and Dad promised me that I would celebrate my Bar Mitzvah at the Kotel (Western Wall).

The time approached for me to start preparing to lein (read from the Torah).  When I was eleven years old, my father told me that he would like to teach me the trope, or Taamim as it is called in Hebrew.  This meant a great deal to both him and me.  As he was American, he taught me the notation that he had learned nearly forty years previously and the tune is markedly different to the one we Ashkenazim sing in the UK.  I was so excited.  Together, we worked hard to ensure that I knew every single word and corresponding note.  Being a perfectionist, my father’s exacting standards were not easy to attain but I hoped that I would ‘do him proud’ on the day.

And then out of the blue, tragedy struck.  My beloved grandfather, my Bonpapa, who lived in New York and who I adored, suffered a severe heart attack during Chol Hamoed Sukkot and another one which proved to be fatal on erev Shabbat Bereishit, shortly before candle-lighting time.  It was just over a year before my Bar Mitzvah was due to take place.

If that wasn’t heartbreaking enough, he had not even had the chance to see me laying the tefillin he had bought for me.  I was devastated in tandem with the rest of my family.

On 6^th November 980, I stood before the Kotel bedecked in my new tefillin and recited my portion without making a single mistake.  I still remember the look of pride on my father’s face as I demonstrated the result of his sterling efforts.  My mother was beaming on the other side of the mechitza.

The word ‘Toldot’ in Hebrew means ‘Generations’.  It describes the birth of Yaakov and Eisav to Yitzchak and Rivka after a wait of twenty years as Rivka was unable to conceive.  It is also the only Parasha that unites our three patriarchs, Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov although this is not readily apparent on a peshat (simple) level.

Yaakov and Eisav were fifteen years old (Avraham was 100 when Yitzchak was born and he was 60 when the twins were born) when the Torah tells us that Yaakov made some lentil soup which his brother saw and desired upon returning from hunting in a field.  Exhausted from all of the killing that he had enacted (according to Rashi), he wanted the lentil soup so much that he agreed to give up his precious birthright in return for the pottage.  The ‘sale’ went ahead and Eisav left satiated.

The whole story seems rather strange until you understand the reason why Yaakov was cooking the soup in the first place.  Rashi tells us that, on that very day their grandfather, Avraham, had died at the age of 175 (hence the calculation regarding Yaakov and Eisav being 15) and Yaakov prepared the lentil soup to give to his father, Yitzchak who was mourning Avraham’s passing.

At that time, this was the traditional first dish given to an avel (mourner) as the round shape of lentils symbolised the cycle of life, in the same manner ascribed to an egg which constitutes an avel’s first meal after the funeral.  Avraham’s impact on Yitzchak, which in turn led to his influence on his youngest son, resulted in Yaakov knowing how to appropriately mark both the death of his grandfather at the same time as honouring and caring for his father.  This was through providing him with an appropriate meal at this very painful time in his life.  Yaakov was reinforcing the middot (positive character traits) and mesorah (tradition) that he’d inherited from both his father and grandfather.  This symbolism was wasted on Eisav who was more interested in filling his stomach than considering the impact of the loss of his extraordinary grandfather.

This element of the Parasha is one that I readily identify with and not only because my father’s name was also Yitzchak.  His influence, particularly in my Jewish education inspired me to take the path of life that led me to becoming a Rabbi.  As well as teaching me my Bar Mitzvah portion, we also used to learn Chumash and Mishna together on Shabbat afternoons when I was growing up.  I didn’t appreciate how extremely learned he was until I was much older and it gave me a great deal of pleasure sharing my knowledge with both my parents as I acquired it, particularly during my Semicha studies.  In educating me through our texts, he was carrying on the tradition that he’d learned from his father and going back through the generations – the Toldot – to Yaakov, Yitzchak and Avraham.

That my grandfather was unable to see me attain my Bar Mitzvah and my father passed away shortly before he could see his son officiating at his granddaughter’s chuppah, has been extremely difficult.  I do however derive a great deal of comfort from the fact that he was able to attend Hadassah and Rodion’s Engagement (or ‘vort’) and witness me conducting the service of the future mothers-in-law breaking of the plates!  He really enjoyed that.

I relate to Toldot because it represents the strong bond that unites our generations.  Avraham through Yitzchak, Yaakov and the twelve sons that would flower into the 14 million Jews that exist today, of which two members were my father and grandfather.  In respecting the traditions that have been imbued in me, I pray that my children and grandchildren will continue the Jewish chain long into the future when I am no longer around.

In this most difficult of years, it gives me great comfort to know that although he is no longer with me in body, he and my mother accompany me in spirit so that although I am alone, in truth, they are and will always be together with me, guiding me along the correct path in whichever direction my life takes me.

It’s quite remarkable how much one can learn from a simple pot of lentil soup isn’t it?

Shabbat Shalom

Parashat Chayei Sarah: The Men With No Names

 Let’s play a game.

I will list a few famous people who have been known by a different name and see how many of them you can recognise. 

1.    Katheryn Hudson…………………………..	Katy Perry
2.    Bernard Webb……………………………...	Paul McCartney’s pseudonym
3.    Emanuel Goldenberg…………………….	Edward G. Robinson
4.    Robert Galbraith…………………………...	J.K Rowling
5.    John Carter…………………………………	Charlton Heston (aka Moses)
6.    Margarita Cansino………………………...	Rita Hayworth

How many did you answer correctly?!

The people I have listed changed their names for several reasons.  Some, because they wished to adopt a pseudonym for their writing career, a case in point being JK Rowling whose alter ego was created so that she could write crime novels for a ‘neutral audience’ without having to live up to the expectation, hype and pressure associated with being the creator of Harry Potter.

Others, such as Edward G. Robinson, who was born in Romania, made the choice to further his career in Hollywood at a time where antisemitism in America was rife.  As a nod to his proud Jewish roots, he kept the ‘G’ to remind him of his original surname.

Sir Paul McCartney’s decision to write a song for the duo Peter and Gordon called ‘Woman’, under the pseudonym of Bernard Webb, at the height of Beatlemania stemmed from his curiosity in wanting to know whether it would be a hit without being associated with the Lennon McCartney catalogue.  It reached #28 in the UK Charts (although it did hit #1 in Canada).

A decade ago, Stephnie and I changed our surname from ‘Wolf’ to ‘Vecht-Wolf’ as a mark of respect to honour my maternal grandfather’s family and associate myself with both the sizeable Vecht and Wolf dynasties.

As you will be aware, in this country, after the war, many Jewish people had no choice but to anglicise their names in order to obtain a job, particularly during the challenging years leading up to the creation of the State of Israel.

Names matter because they define us.  One of the first sounds a baby hears is its name and at a very early age, knows that this is a word they want to be able to pronounce.

Which leads us to ask a question about the main protagonist of this week’s Parasha of Chayei Sarah, namely Eliezer, Avraham’s servant, who is sent on a mission to find a wife for his master’s son, Yitzchak.

If you search through the entire text which describes the journey he took to Aram Naharayim in the region of Haran, you won’t find a single mention of his name.  In Chapter 24.34, he even refers to himself as ‘Avraham’s servant’ when he meets Rivka’s family.

Chazal explain that the reason for this lies in the fact that Eliezer knew that the focus of his journey was to find a wife for his master’s son.  In doing so, he was carrying out Avraham’s express wishes and as an extremely loyal servant, was effectively an ‘extension of his master’s hand’.  His greatness therefore lay in his decision to remain anonymous.  He completely subsumed his own identity to honour the oath he had given to Avraham and recognised Gd’s hand in enabling him to find the ‘Rose among thorns’ (as described by the Midrash – Vayikra Rabba 23.1).

Many miles from here lies the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior in Westminster Abbey.  This soldier whose name and rank we don’t know and whose existence we have little knowledge of, sacrificed his life to ensure that we can stand here today in freedom.  On his grave is written the following:

BENEATH THIS STONE RESTS THE BODY OF A BRITISH WARRIOR UNKNOWN BY NAME OR RANK
BROUGHT FROM FRANCE TO LIE AMONG THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS OF THE LAND
AND BURIED HERE ON ARMISTICE DAY 11 NOV: 1920,  IN THE PRESENCE OF HIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE V, HIS MINISTERS OF STATE, THE CHIEFS OF HIS FORCES AND A VAST CONCOURSE OF THE NATION THUS ARE COMMEMORATED THE MANY MULTITUDES WHO DURING THE GREAT
WAR OF 1914-1918 GAVE THE MOST THAT MAN CAN GIVE LIFE ITSELF FOR G-D, FOR KING AND COUNTRY, FOR LOVED ONES HOME AND EMPIRE, FOR THE SACRED CAUSE OF JUSTICE AND
THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD.
THEY BURIED HIM AMONG THE KINGS BECAUSE HE HAD DONE GOOD TOWARD G-D AND TOWARD HIS HOUSE.

In his death, he was robbed of his most precious asset - his name.  He wasn’t given the opportunity to change it like those of us who had this choice, whether under duress or not.  He is as anonymous as Avraham’s servant but in his anonymity lies his greatness.

At the same time as we honour his and others’ sacrifice, there are many of our avowed enemies who are wilfully endorsing an ideology that promotes intolerance of others in a violent and brutal manner.  They trample upon the memory of everything that he fought and died for.

Instead of lauding the brave soldiers of the IDF who are fighting for their, and ultimately our, freedom, they behave in a manner that disgraces their names and those of their families in the eyes of anyone who understands the significance of what happened on 7^th October.

The Torah ascribes great importance to names, even going as far as changing these when Gd deems it necessary.  Avram and Sarai become Avraham and Sarah, names which are imbued with the letter ‘Hey’, which represents Godliness (being one of the letters of Hashem’s name).  In choosing not to include Eliezer’s name in the Torah, his anonymity ironically becomes as important as if his name had been mentioned, just like the Unknown Warrior’s identity.

Because we understand the significance of names, we can appreciate the connection between the two anonymous protagonists who link this week’s Parasha with today’s date.  We appreciate their sacrifice, both physically and metaphorically.

Those people marching, desecrating and chanting hateful slogans are oblivious to this.

Many wars have been fought and our enemies have tried their best to vanquish us but here we are, on this day, remembering the brave men and women who gave up their lives to protect us.  Some from our own and many from other nations.  In honouring and remembering them, we, those who are in the right, will prevail over those who dishonour the dead – for today, we proudly remember the men with no names.  We owe it to them.

To the servant who ensured that Yitzchak married Rivka which led to the birth of Yaakov and his descendants and to that unknown British Warrior who gave up his life and was laid to rest exactly 123 years ago today.  Their anonymity is the greatest name that could be bestowed upon them.  ‘We will remember them’ (Laurence Binyon: “for the Fallen” 1914).

Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Lech Lecha: Jewish Stars

On Sunday afternoon, I stood with my back to the National Gallery facing Nelson’s Column.  Trafalgar Square was bathed in a sea of blue and white flags fluttering in the light breeze.  The speakers, whose faces I could not make out, came onto the stage and one by one, fighting back tears, related their heartbreaking and shocking testimonies, describing their experiences on Shabbat 7^th October.  How they had lost loved ones, either through being murdered or seeing them dragged away into the hellhole that is Gaza.  Many of those who bravely tried to defend their families, friends and kibbutzim were massacred by an overwhelming and unbelievably cruel foe.

As one of the speakers was tearfully informing us that her brother and his family had been amongst the more than two hundred people kidnapped, I was handed a poster that just happened to display their details under a large bold white-on-red headline marked ‘Kidnapped’.  Reading the events in the news hadn’t hit me yet.  Standing alongside thousands of Jews, listening to both our Israeli and English brethren telling their stories and our chanting, “Bring them home” brought home to me the enormity of what had happened.

Whilst I was trying to process what was going on in terms of what had happened, what could be done to bring them home alive and how vulnerable I felt as a Jew in the United Kingdom, I had a thought.  All of us in Trafalgar Square, most of whom I assumed were Jewish, were descended either biologically or spiritually from one single couple, namely Avraham and Sarah (or Avram and Sarai is they are known for the majority of this week’s Parasha).

I believe that all of us standing, weeping, applauding and chanting recognised that something very special was taking place for a brief moment in our long, shared history together.  In this hour of darkness, we set aside our differences and spoke with one voice.

Avram knew what it meant to live in a hostile environment.  According to the Vilna Ga’on, he was forty-eight years old when the Tower of Bavel was built and the resultant dispersion that we read about at the end of last week’s Parasha occurred.  The Ramban tells us that Noach died ten years later, so it is very possible that Avram would have heard from him, about what it felt like to live amongst evil people.  To be different to them and of course, how he had been saved through building the Ark.

The Midrash tells us how Avram’s arch-enemy, Nimrod, who was incidentally the architect of the doomed tower project, tried to have him burned in a furnace.  Avram, despite everything, held firm to his revolutionary belief in the existence of a single Deity, much to the fury of Nimrod whose belief system was deeply entrenched in idolatry.

Avram was different and we are different.

Gd tested him ten times with the ultimate challenge of having to sacrifice his son.  He passed the test despite the odds.  We, his descendants, have had to face the most barbaric, sadistic nations in the history of the world who wished to destroy us and we too have survived these tests.

But what was it that made Avram (and of course his beloved wife) the archetypal role models that eventually led to the birth of our nation?

Rabbi Sacks tells us that the secret of what made Avram different lies in the very first verse of this week’s Parasha when Hashem told him to:

“Go from your land, your birthplace and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.”

He was instructing him to leave behind everything that had shaped him to that point.

“Why?” asks Rabbi Sacks.

“Because people do conform.  They adopt the standards and absorb the culture of the time and place in which they live – “your land”.  At a deeper level, they are influenced by friends and neighbours – “your birthplace”.  More deeply still, they are shaped by their parents and the family in which they grew up – “your father’s house.”

He continues by explaining that Gd wanted Avram to be different…for the sake of starting something new, namely a religion that eschewed power and the symbols of that power as represented by idolatry.

As Gd later tells him:

“I want you to teach your children and your household afterwards to follow the way of the Lord by doing what is right and just.

Avram understood how important it was to stand up for justice, irrespective of how unpopular this would make him.  To throw away everything that you’ve been conditioned with, to accept in the name of seeking the path of truth, is a very Jewish thing to do.  Whilst there are many (in the media and in politics as well as our sworn enemies) who conveniently set aside the events that took place a few weeks ago to set their own agenda, we refuse to compromise on what we believe is to be right.

We have sadly learned to our great personal detriment the result of what transpires when we try to avoid fighting evil - if we accept the arguments of those who do not have our best interests in mind and compromise on what we know is the right thing to do.

There are those who wish us to quietly conform to their lifestyles.

They say that Shechita is barbaric and that it would be kinder to the animals to kill them in a more conventional manner.  It would also be less of a burden on our already stretched budgets.

In the same breath, they claim that brit milah, which we read about in this week’s Parasha, deprives a child of the right to choose as to whether they wish to be ‘mutilated’.  Why not just give it up so that our boys won’t be different to those of our friends.

It would be so much easier for us if we stayed in our metaphorical lands, birthplaces and fathers’ houses.

The German Jews tried to do that in the 19^th century by assimilating at a huge rate.  Yet, with regard to Nazi ideology and the Final Solution, it didn’t make a jot of difference when it came to who ended up in the gas chambers.

Stalin wasn’t too bothered by whether or not Jews identified as such when he exiled them to the Gulag and Hamas didn’t check out the religiosity of the people it either killed or kidnapped less than a month ago.The thread that links us back to the very first Jews (even if they weren’t called by this name at that time) is the same one which keeps us bound together.  A refusal to compromise on pursuing justice despite those who wish to put barriers in our way.

Many of us keep kosher to differing degrees and sometimes not at all.  There are those who choose not to circumcise their sons but when it comes to identifying as Jewish, in whichever format works for them, they are the first to stand up and be counted, because we, like Avram and Sarai before us, understand what it means to take the ‘right and just path’.  When it comes to giving charity, our hands dig deep.  When legitimate refugees need legal support, how often do we hear of their representatives bearing Jewish names?  Our hospitals and universities are filled with Jewish doctors and professors and don’t get me started on how many members of our nation have won Nobel prizes!

We went to Trafalgar Square because we knew we needed to be there.  For us.  Not for the world.  For those in Israel who were suffering, whether or not we knew them.  We travelled through the streets of London knowing that there was possible danger ahead because we knew that standing up and being counted as Jews was more important than cowering in the face of danger.

We are giving and giving and giving to charities inside and outside Israel because we know the fundamental role tzedaka plays in our national psyche.  We have an innate need to help the families of those who were killed, wounded or kidnapped irrespective of their political leanings or religious affiliation precisely because they are Jews, like us.

When a Gentile takes the bold move to convert to our religion, his Hebrew name becomes ‘ben Avraham’ and hers ‘bat Sarah’, which means, ‘The son of Avraham’ or the ‘daughter of Sarah’.  This is not by accident.  It is a testament to the extraordinary decision a single couple chose to take, when they stood out from the crowd and, despite the extreme hardships they endured (as described in three Parashiot that cover their lives), did not compromise on their mission to change humanity and draw them away from idol-worship to creating an environment that promoted chessed, kindness to all and one that recognised a single G-d.

In 15.4, Gd takes Avram outside and tells him:

“Look at the heavens and count the stars, if indeed you can count them…that is how your descendants will be.”

Looking at the blue stars on those white backgrounds and human stars in all their shapes and forms on Sunday afternoon helped me realise that we are the culmination of that prophecy - the progeny of Avram and Sarai in the very heart of London.  We are their children – we are different – In short, we are Jews.    

Shabbat Shalom.

Parashat Noach: For The Many

Dedicated to the memory of Yaakov Aharon ben Moshe, Jake Marlowe - may Hashem avenge his murder.

I'd like to ask a very simple question regarding this week's protagonist, Noach.  In his act of saving his family (and a shipload of animals) from the flood that wiped out every living creature (aside from the fish), would you consider him to be courageous?

There is a fascinating Midrash (Bereishit Rabbah 36.3) which compares Noach with Moshe Rabbeinu:

“Noach, man of the soil, began, and he planted a vineyard” (Genesis 9:20).

“Noach, man of the soil, began [vayaḥel]” – he became profaned and unholy [ḥulin].  Why?  “And he planted a vineyard.” Should he not have planted something else, that was constructive, a fig tree branch or an olive tree branch?  Instead, “he planted a vineyard.”

‘Man of the soil’ – There were three people who were enthusiastic about the soil but ultimately nothing constructive came from them.  They are: Cain, Noach, and Uziyahu.  Cain – “Cain was a tiller of the soil” (Genesis 4:2); Noach – “a man of the soil”; Uziyahu – “he had farmers and vine growers in the mountains and on the fertile lands, as he was a lover of the soil” (II Chronicles 26:10).

The underlying question is: In what sense was Noach a ‘man of the soil’? – He remade the surface of the soil; He began to re-cultivate the soil after it had been devastated by the Flood.  because of him the soil was watered; It was on his behalf that rain fell upon the parched soil after the Flood (see Bereshit Rabba 33:7).  He filled the entire surface of the soil.  His descendants populated the world.

‘Man of the soil’ – He was a farmer, [called “man of the soil”] after his farming activities.

Rabbi Berekhya said: Moses was more beloved than Noach.  Noach, after he was called ‘a righteous man’ (Genesis 6:9), was called ‘a man of the soil.’

He was diminished in stature when he became older.  But Moses, after he was called “an Egyptian man” (Exodus 2:19) was called “the man of God” (Deuteronomy 33:1).

On the face of it, we can't dismiss Noach's role in reclaiming man's mastery over the earth after it had been subsumed by the flood.  More importantly, he singlehandedly (albeit on Gd's command) ensured that every single person alive today can trace their ancestry back to him.  We can trace our roots back to Noach and Naama (her lineage is mentioned in last week's Parasha) through their three sons and daughters-in-law.  Jews and Arabs are called Semites which underscores the fact that we are direct descendants of his son, Shem (although anti-Semitism is unique to the Jewish people, but that's a different discussion).

It is safe to say that Noach, as a person is extremely significant in the history of mankind.

But, returning to my original question, is that enough to guarantee his validity as a man of note?

There is a famous Rashi on the first pasuk of the Parasha:

Genesis 6:9

These are the generations of Noach: Noach was a just man and perfect in his generations, and Noach walked with Gd.

 

Rashi on Genesis 6:9:2

Generations — Some of our Rabbis explain it (this word) to his credit: he was righteous even in his generation; it follows that had he lived in a generation of righteous people he would have been even more righteous owing to the force of good example.  Others, however, explain it to his discredit: in comparison with his own generation, he was accounted righteous, but had he lived in the generation of Abraham he would have been accounted as of no importance (cf.  Sanhedrin 108a).

The Gemara (in tandem with the Midrash) is quite scathing about Noach's reputation and if you bring both comments together, you have the description of a man who fell short of his potential when compared to giants such as Avraham and Moshe.

At this stage, it is unclear as to what he did wrong (setting aside the fact that he could have planted something more useful to humanity than a vine).  He saved his family and ensured that we still have the descendants of countless animals and other creatures to visit in our local zoos (and are able to benefit from their output, including their meat).

Rabbi Sacks (OBM) points out (Covenant and Conversation: A Drama in Four Acts, 2019) that although Noach is a righteous man, he is no hero.  He saves no-one but himself and his family.  He takes no responsibility for anyone else.

At no point in the story do we read about Noach pleading with Gd to save his fellow humans in the same way that Avraham does when it comes to the inhabitants of Sodom.  Where is there a description of how he asked Gd to destroy him instead of others in the vein of Moshe following the sin of the Golden Calf?

Rabbi Sacks writes that ‘One cannot be a sole survivor and still survive…we have to do what we can to save others, not just ourselves.  Noach failed the test of collective responsibility.’

After he survived the flood, he ends up naked, drunk and then sexually abused by one of his sons.  A sad and ignoble end to a man who could have achieved so much more. Compare the story of his life with that of his descendant Moshe who rose from being the Prince of Egypt to the position of our greatest leader – a man whom Gd would speak to ‘face-to-face as one person speaks to his friend (Shemot 33,11).

Returning to my original question, it doesn’t take much to demonstrate that Noach was anything but courageous.

I suspect that, like you, the terrible situation in Israel occupies my mind throughout my waking hours.  The last thing I do before going to sleep is to check my phone for any updates.  Bleary eyed, first thing in the morning, I scrabble for my glasses to see if there have been any developments overnight.

Over the last week, the horror of what transpired on the Shabbat of Shmini Arzeret was at the forefront of my thoughts.  No doubt you read about Jake Marlowe, (may his memory be a blessing) the 26-year-old former JFS student who was killed at the festival whilst working as a security guard.  To our family, Jake was more than just a name.  He was in the same year as one of my stepdaughters and he was also second cousin to a very dear schoolfriend who made Aliyah many years ago.

My friend wrote to me and asked if he could stay with us so that he could attend Jake’s Levaya.  At the time, we did not know when this would take place.  I didn’t even ask Stephnie before responding and we spent nearly a week together catching up on old times and mourning his cousin’s passing.  He knew Jake and had the highest respect for him.  He also told me how Jake had rescued several other people from the party on his motorised buggy, under fire and ultimately at the cost of his own life.  He was courageous beyond description and the very epitome of Rabbi Sacks’ dictum that ‘we must save others, not just ourselves’.  Jake’s love of his fellow Jews was limitless.  He demonstrated this by paying the ultimate price.  He died ‘al kiddush Hashem - sanctifying Gd’s name.

More and more stories like Jake’s are coming to light.  How kibbutzniks who were vastly outnumbered fought to protect their families, friends and homes against a horde of sadistic barbaric savages whose evil actions rendered them, as I heard it put by the Home Secretary Suella Braverman, a ‘stain on humanity’. How young soldiers were massacred trying to protect civilians and women, children and the elderly were snatched away from their families, many of whom were tortured and killed.  The list of atrocities is endless.

Jake and the other fallen heroes of Israel, both male and female represent the very finest example of what it means to be, not only courageous but righteous, not only in their generations but for all time.  They are our Joshua, Deborah, King David and Judah Maccabee rolled into one.  They passed Rabbi Sacks’ test of collective responsibility with flying colours and paid with their lives.

As for Noach, we look at him in the shadow of what has happened with more questions than answers.

Why didn’t he speak up?

Why didn’t he try to save those who might have adapted their behaviour to show kindness to others?

Why did he just focus on his own family?  

Why?

The United Synagogue has dedicated yesterday, today and tomorrow as the ‘Weekend of Kindness’ where we, the Jewish people are being asked to bring more light into the world.         It doesn’t take much to show kindness to others and there is a host of ways in which we can do this such as:

• Sending a voice message of support to friends and family in Israel.
• Making a meal for someone who needs the support.
• Thanking our local security guard for keeping us safe.
• Visiting someone elderly or ill.
• Donating food to your local food bank.
• Helping carry someone’s shopping to their car.
• Holding the door open for a stranger.
• Donating blood.
• Adding yourself to a bone marrow registry and take part in a bone marrow drive.
• Making a conscious effort to recycle.

You can read other ideas on the US website (https://theus.org.uk/article/weekend-kindness).

It doesn’t take much to show our love ‘for the many’ both inside and outside the community who will appreciate what we do.  We can show the world how extraordinary a nation we are, whilst also defending Israel from the lies that are populating social networking platforms and the media.  We owe it to our people and our Medinah.

We need to show the world that we are not ‘Noach’.

Instead, we are Avraham and we are Moshe.

And…

We are Jake.

Shabbat Shalom

Yom Kippur: One

 In the 1960s, the late Harry Nilsson wrote a very sad song entitled: ‘One’.

Its first stanza read:

‘One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do’

We can survive as single entities but for many of us, it is the company of others that helps to brighten our lives, be it with fellow humans or even pets.  On the surface, at least, having a ‘me party’ isn’t as much fun as spending the evening with two or more friends, is it? Given the choice of an odd or even quantity, which would you prefer?

Keeping this idea in mind, how about celebrating Yom Kippur not for one, but instead two days?

The Gemara (Rosh Hashanah 21a) tells us that:

Rava would regularly sit in observance of the fast of Yom Kippur for two days in case Elul had been declared a thirty-day month and Yom Kippur should be observed on what was observed in Babylonia as the eleventh of Tishrei.  It once happened in accordance with his opinion.  Elul had been declared a thirty-day month, and he was the only one who observed Yom Kippur on the correct day.  It was related that Rav Naḥman had once fasted the entire day of Yom Kippur as usual.  In the evening, toward the end of his fast, a certain man came and said to him, “Tomorrow is the great day, Yom Kippur, in the West, Eretz Yisrael, and it is therefore necessary to fast tomorrow.”

Fortunately for us, the Rabbis didn’t agree with this line of thinking and so this did not become the accepted custom!

I will be the first to admit that although there are legitimate reasons to prefer even numbers, I have a weakness for the number ‘one’, singular in nature as it may be.

I am the only child of an only child (my father had no siblings) and although I love being the father of four, step-father of another four and grandfather of three (nearly four), if left on my own for a few hours, I can always find something to occupy my time, be it reading, writing a drasha or watching one of my favourite films.  To me, one is anything but a lonely number and guess what?  Both Stephnie and my birthdays are on the 1^st of August and December respectively and our chuppah was on the 1^st of Tevet!

In fact, ‘one’ is a very Jewish number and it is inexorably linked to Yom Kippur.

For at the very end of the fast, a single note from the Shofar will signify the completion of the holiest day in our calendar.  One note is all that is needed.

Our prayers focus on the singularity of the one Gd.  During the emotional closing stages (shortly before the blowing of the Shofar), we recite the most famous prayer in our liturgy – “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our Gd, the Lord is One.”

Yom Kippur was the only day in the year when the Kohen Gadol, the High Priest was allowed to enter the Holy of Holies in the Temple.

The fast itself is the only one (of our six) that is mandated in the Torah.

Yet, at times for us, the Jewish nation, ‘one’ was a very lonely number.  We were alone, isolated and facing destruction.  A case in point was the outbreak of the Yom Kippur War, exactly fifty years ago this afternoon (which coincidentally began when the Egyptians started an offensive at 2:00 Israeli time, which was 1:00 over here).   One small nation facing the might of the Egyptian and Syrian armies.

Despite the odds, both half a century ago and further back, we survived and held faith in the one Gd that we believe in.  The very same that we turn our hearts and minds to on this day and pray for peace inside our beloved State of Israel.  That He helps us to find a way to reunite as a unified nation and agree on a resolution to solve the very serious and complex problems facing the country at this moment.

My father, of blessed memory, always said that he was not afraid of what Israel’s enemies could achieve.  He was much more concerned regarding the damage we could do to ourselves as has been demonstrated so many times in our long history.

We can be ‘Am Echad BeLev Echad – One people with a single heart’ if we choose to be and when we come together, as we did recently against Corbyn, we can achieve miracles.  As Abraham Lincoln famously said, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”

You may recall a few years ago that I connected the five prayers we recite over Yom Kippur to the levels of consciousness that exist within our souls.  For on this holiest of days, not only are we compared to angels but also it is the unique occasion that all souls are judged by Gd, both in heaven and earth.  The Nefesh is the level that connects with our mortal beings, followed by the Ruach, Neshama and Chaya.

The highest level the soul can attain is that of the Yechida, whose root is ‘Echad’ – one- where the soul is bound to Gd Himself.  Literally, it is at ‘one with Hashem’ which is the ultimate connection with Yom Kippur.

One man, Moshe Rabbeinu, was able to fight for our survival.  It is because of his efforts that our ancestors were saved from Gd’s wrath when our greatest Prophet and leader descended from Mount Sinai.  He was holding the second set of Tablets on the very first Yom Kippur and this showed our ancestors that they had been forgiven for the sin of the Golden Calf.

And all these years later, we are a united nation that prays together, irrespective of where we happen to find ourselves in the world on the single day in our calendar that acts a catalyst to bring us together.  We ask Gd, to forgive us, both on a personal level and as a people, united in hope and belief that things can improve.  It demonstrates the power of ‘one’.

Returning to my original theme, I think that when it comes to appreciating Yom Kippur we can respectfully disagree with Mr Nilsson.  One is certainly not the loneliest number.

It represents purity, unity and resilience.  It is our story.  We are the singular nation that survived despite the odds (pun intended).

We should use the opportunity that Yom Kippur provides us with, to ask for forgiveness from Gd.  On the same day that we received the second set of tablets and thousands of years later nearly faced the prospect of losing Eretz Yisrael, let us consider the power of this very day - the ONE period of 25 hours that will impact the rest of the year.  It all depends on the effort we put into our prayers, irrespective of the language we choose to utilize.

A single word, spoken from the heart is worth more than a hundred uttered thoughtlessly.

Wishing you all a continued meaningful and easy fast on this very special and unique day.  Gmar Chatimah Tovah – may we all be blessed with a wonderful year and one that we will wish to remember for all the best reasons - the one that we have prayed for.

Chag Sameach.

Rosh Hashanah: The Real Shofar

Rabbi Saadia Gaon (892 – 942 CE) was one of the most important and significant philosophers of his age and the Head (which is a translation of the word ‘Gaon’) of the great and influential Yeshiva of Sura in Baghdad.  It was one of the most respected academies in Babylon and throughout the Jewish World.

He lists ten reasons for blowing the Shofar on Rosh Hashanah:

1.    Rosh Hashanah is the anniversary of the creation of the world (through his forming Adam and Eve on this day, which was why the Earth was created) and so we are crowning Gd as the creator of the Universe on this day and the Shofar proclaims Him as sovereign of the Universe.

2.    Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of the Aseret Yemei Teshuvah, the Ten Days of Repentance.  The Shofar is therefore the means by which Gd wants us to hear a last warning to repent before we are finally judged on Yom Kippur, which is the culmination of these days.

3.    A Shofar was sounded on Mount Sinai at Gd’s revelation when He gave us the Torah.  We responded by saying that we would carry out His commandments (Na’aseh Venishmah – ‘we will do and we will listen’)

4.    Our ancient prophets’ warnings and exhortations are likened to the blasts of the Shofar.  As the prophet Ezekiel wrote (chapter 33, 4-5) “He who hears the sound of the shofar and does not take warning, the sword will come and take him away.  His blood will be upon his own head…but he who heeds warning will save his soul.”

5.    The Shofar reminds us of the destruction of the first Temple which took place while the sounds of our enemy’s trumpets were ringing in our ears.  When we hear the Shofar on Rosh Hashanah, we pray that our temple will be rebuilt.

6.    The Shofar, or Ram’s Horn recalls the willingness of Isaac to be sacrificed (there are opinions that the binding of Isaac took place on Rosh Hashanah).  When we hear the Shofar, we ask Gd to forgive us in his merit.  As we know, Abraham sacrificed a ram in his place.

7.    The sound of the Shofar fills our hearts with awe and reverence.  This is appropriate when we are in the presence of Gd, pleading for a positive outcome on Yom HaDin – Judgement Day.

8.    Hearing the Shofar reminds us of the ultimate Day of Judgement which we hope will happen soon.

In In the same vein, it is a portent of the coming of Mashiach when we will experience the ‘ingathering of the exiles’ to the Land of Israel.  We will shortly read the Mussaf prayer where we say, “And it will be on that day that a great Shofar will be sounded and those who were lost in the Land of Ashur…will come and prostrate themselves before the Lord on the holy mountain in Jerusalem.”

10. Finally, it is there to remind us of the future resurrection of the dead which will be heralded by the sound of the Shofar.

This comprehensive list sums up some or many of the reasons we have heard over the years for the sounding of the instrument.

From its earliest mention in the Torah, Rosh Hashanah (which is first called by this name in the Mishna) is called ‘Yom Teruah’ in the Torah.  The word ‘Teruah’ specifies the centrality of the Shofar to the Yom Tov.

Hearing the sound of this ancient instrument is therefore the mitzvah appertaining to the festival.  It’s more important than dipping an apple in honey or partaking of honey cake (although, many of us could not envisage Rosh Hashanah without the latter!)

You may legitimately enquire as to why, if this is so important, we do not blow the Shofar on Shabbat and I am happy to answer separately, but this constitutes a different Drasha entirely!On 29^th September 2016, Rabbi Sacks, of blessed memory, wrote an extremely prescient article for the Wall Street Journal titled ‘Rosh Hashanah and the Robots’.

https://www.rabbisacks.org/archive/rosh-hashana-and-the-robots-wsj/

He predicted the impact of AI (Artificial Intelligence) by quoting the documentary filmmaker James Barrett who, in 2013, ten years ago warned “of the rise of artificial intelligence - that is robots that are-all around smarter than humans.” in his book ‘Our Final Invention’.  Mr Barrett argued that “for the first time, humans will face a competitor that can outthink them at every stage and that the Earth may be nearing the end of the human era.”  I note that there is an updated edition of the book that came out a few months ago (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Our-Final-Invention-Artificial Intelligence/dp/1529434629/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2F6UAL4US1B36&keywords=our+final+invention+james+barrat&qid=1694344417&sprefix=our+final+invention%2Caps%2C253&sr=8-1).  Rabbi Sacks then quoted another source, Robert Ford, who in 2015 wrote a book on a similar theme entitled, ‘The Rise of the Robots - Technology and the Threat of Mass Unemployment’ where he stated the following:

‘Humanity has hardly begun to realize how far humans will be displaced from the world of work.  Robots have so far only taken over relatively mindless tasks, such as some of those in manufacturing.  Soon more professions will be hit.  Driverless cars and trucks will put millions out of work, while innovations like medicine without doctors will kill opportunities for even the most highly skilled workers.  Fewer and fewer humans will be needed to run the world, and they will have enormous power over the rest.’

It does not take a great deal of imagination to relate these predictions to our current times.  Although we have mercifully not reached the dire and terrifying spectacle of fully driverless cars or having Android doctors treating patients, the recent technological developments in the use of Artificial Intelligence are very concerning.

Recently, we have witnessed an AI created deepfake video advertisement on social media to try to convince us that Martin Lewis OBE, who has dedicated his life to assisting us to save money, is promoting an app associated with Elon Musk.  Both the computer-generated image and voice of Mr Lewis are fake and their intent is to scam people out of a great deal of money.

In a similar vein, Hollywood’s film production has virtually ground to a halt as screenwriters, actors and other industry professionals are striking as a result of their grave concerns regarding the use of AI to create screenplays or even films that they have not been involved with.  This in addition to other grievances regarding their low pay.

For many years, synthesizers have replicated the sound of instruments on recordings, and it is becoming increasingly more challenging to recognise whether the sound has been formed by a human or a machine.  Without even realising it, we have invited Artificial Intelligence into our homes, through the ubiquitous presence of devices such as Google Nest or Amazon Alexa (not to forget, Siri on iPhones).  As wonderful as these devices are, if we think about it, how much do we question the information they provide us with or the information they are gathering about us?

It appears that we are allowing technology to take over our lives to the extent that we are in danger of sidelining the importance of sound.  The type created by human beings, formed in our breath and projected via our lips.

With the advent of AI, we could believe that everything we hear or see is real.  It is so accurate and at the same time, persuasive.  The man in the advertisement looks like Martin Lewis and sounds like him.  How could it not be him?  We trust his advice.  Would he lie to us?

 The genuine sound of the shofar cuts through the mists of time.  Every year, from the first day of Ellul, through to Rosh Hashanah (omitting the eve of the Festival) and then, to mark the end of the Fast, it speaks to us, for all of the reasons that Rav Saadia Gaon listed.  We can choose the one that means the most to each of us or, if you wish, pick all ten.  The one thing that they have in common is the emphasis of how genuine the sound is and how important it is for us to hear it from an instrument which dates back beyond the origins of our faith.

The concerns regarding AI touch us at the deepest level of our conscious being.  On a positive note, the examples I gave of Martin Lewis’ concerns and those on the picket lines, remind us of our wish to use the technology in a responsible and productive manner.  All of the people I quoted are not calling for the abolition of such technology.  We all recognise that the metaphorical genie has been ‘released from the bottle’.  They are simply demanding that it be controlled and that, at the end of the day, what matters is the continued presence of real sound.  Words written by real screenwriters and scenes shot using living, breathing actors and actresses.

Real intelligence teaches us the limits of artificial intelligence.

There are many mitzvot associated with the blowing and hearing of the Shofar but in a nutshell, it comes down to one factor.  You can only fulfil the Biblically ordained commandment if the familiar sound you hear, the same one that was heard at Sinai, in all its iterations, is the product of a human breath.

Let us pray that next year, we will hear the Shofar sounding to announce either the arrival of Mashiach (reason #9) or the ingathering of our exiles (#8).

Wishing you and your families a truly genuine Shanah Tovah – a year of good health, peace and prosperity.  May we only hear good news from real people!

Amen.