Four years have passed since the loss of Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks, a”h, and one year since the outbreak of the Iron Swords conflict. In these turbulent times, we can only imagine the wisdom he might have shared, the guidance he would have offered. His voice is profoundly missed, especially now when his words could have offered clarity and hope. This longing to “hear” his perspective propelled me on a journey.
To Be a Jew is a booklet that was born from a deep desire to find meaning in the current historic moment. Distributed freely across the globe, with over a quarter of a million copies printed in Hebrew and English – and soon to be available in additional languages – it shares the timeless lessons of Rabbi Sacks with all who seek them. Below is a small selection of his enduring wisdom; for the full booklet, available as a free download, visit sivanrahavmeir.com/to-be-a-Jew.
On his yahrzeit, the 20th of Cheshvan, may these words (taken from his published books) be an elevation for his soul and a source of strength and faith for us all in these challenging days.
Growth That Arises From Crisis
Every tragedy in Jewish history was followed by a new wave of creativity. The destruction of the First Temple led to the renewal of the Torah in the life of the nation, exemplified by the work of Ezra and Nehemiah. The destruction of the Second Temple led to the great works of the oral tradition, Midrash, Mishnah and the two Talmuds. The massacres of Jewish communities in northern Europe during the First Crusade led to the emergence of Chassidei Ashkenaz, the German-Jewish pietists.
The medieval encounter with Christianity led to a renewal of Bible commentary. The meeting with Islam inspired a renaissance of Jewish philosophy. The Spanish Expulsion was followed by the mystical revival in Safed in the sixteenth century. The greatest catastrophe of all led to the greatest rebirth: a mere three years after standing eyeball to eyeball with the angel of death at Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen and Treblinka, the Jewish people responded by their greatest collective affirmation of life in two thousand years, with the proclamation of the state of Israel. … Jews [do not] give way to defeat or despair. They are the people of hope.
The Chinese ideogram for “crisis” also means “opportunity.” Perhaps that is why Chinese civilization has survived for so long. Hebrew, however, is more hopeful still. The word for crisis, mashber, also means a “childbirth chair.” The Jewish reflex is to see difficult times as birth pangs. Something new is being born. (Future Tense, p. 54, 55)
We cannot change the past, but by remembering the past we can change the future. And though we cannot bring the dead back to life, we can help ensure that they did not die in vain. (Ibid. p. 88)
A Spiritual Response to Terrorism
The first Prime Minister of Israel, David Ben Gurion, said, “In Israel, to be a realist you have to believe in miracles.” For Jews, faith is as necessary as life itself. Without it the Jewish people would simply not have survived.
In 2001, after the Oslo peace process had broken down and the suicide bombings had begun, I told the then Israeli ambassador: “In the past, Israel’s enemies have tried to put it in a military crisis and failed. Then they tried to put it in a political crisis and failed. Now they are about to put it in a spiritual crisis, and they may succeed.”
That, ultimately, is what twenty-first-century terror is about, and Israel has been its most consistent target. The suicide bombings brought war from the battlefront to the buses of Haifa, the shops of Tel Aviv and the restaurants of Jerusalem. There were times when Jewish parents sent their children on the school bus not knowing whether they would see them alive again. The missiles of Hezbollah and Hamas placed two-thirds of Israel – the north and south – within their range. As I write, there are seven-year- old children in Sederot who have only known safety in a bomb shelter. The delegitimation of Israel among some media, academic and NGO circles has left its people feeling abandoned and alone. The aim is to intimidate and create despair, and it needs immense resources of faith and courage not to be affected. That is the spiritual crisis. (Ibid. pp. 18-19)
Where Is Man?
When I first stood at Auschwitz-Birkenau the question that haunted me was not, “Where was G-d?” G-d was in the command, “You shall not murder.” G-d was in the words, “You shall not oppress the stranger.” G-d was saying to humanity, “Your brother’s blood is crying to Me from the ground.” G-d did not stop the first humans eating forbidden fruit. He did not stop Cain committing murder. He did not stop the Egyptians enslaving the Israelites. G-d does not save us from ourselves. That, according to the Talmud, is why creating man was such a risk that the angels advised against it. The question that haunts me after the Holocaust, as it does today in this new age of chaos, is “Where is man?” (Judaism’s Life-Changing Ideas, p. 7)
Everything Has a Purpose
Life is meaningful. We are not mere accidents of matter, generated by a universe that came into being for no reason and will one day, for no reason, cease to be. We are here because a loving G-d brought the universe, and life, and us, into existence – a G-d who knows our fears, hears our prayers, believes in us more than we believe in ourselves, who forgives us when we fail, lifts us when we fall and gives us the strength to overcome despair. The historian Paul Johnson once wrote: “No people has ever insisted more firmly than the Jews that history has a purpose and humanity a destiny.” (Ceremony & Celebration, p. 22)
Each Person Has a Mission
G-d enters our lives as a call from the future. It is as if we hear him beckoning to us from the far horizon of time, urging us to take a journey and undertake a task that, in ways we cannot fully understand, we were created for. That is the meaning of the word vocation, literally “a calling”, a mission, a task to which we are summoned.
We are not here by accident. We are here because G-d wanted us to be, and because there is a task we were meant to fulfill. Discovering what that is, is not easy, and often takes many years and false starts. (Studies in Spirituality, p. 24)
Shabbat: A Palace in Time
Shabbat. The day of rest when we give our marriages and families what they most need and are most starved of in the contemporary world, namely, time. While making a television documentary for the BBC on the state of family life in Britain, I took the person who was then Britain’s leading expert on childcare, Penelope Leach, to a Jewish primary school on a Friday morning.
There she saw the children enacting in advance what they would see that evening around the family table. There were the five-year-old mother and father blessing the five-year-old children with the five-year-old grandparents looking on. She was fascinated by this whole institution, and she asked the children what they most enjoyed about the Sabbath. One five-year-old boy turned to her and said, “It’s the only night of the week when Daddy doesn’t have to rush off.” As we walked away from the school when the filming was over, she turned to me and said, “Chief Rabbi, that Sabbath of yours is saving their parents’ marriages.” (Morality, p. 73)
Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (1948–2020) was a global religious leader, philosopher, award-winning author, and respected moral voice. He was the laureate of the 2016 Templeton Prize in recognition of his “exceptional contributions to affirming life’s spiritual dimension.” Described by HM King Charles III as “a light unto this nation” and by former UK Prime Minister Sir Tony Blair as “an intellectual giant,” Rabbi Sacks was a frequent and sought-after contributor to radio, television, and the press, both in Britain and around the world. He served as Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth for 22 years, between 1991 and 2013.
