SUKKOT PRAYER

FOR THE SUFFERING PEOPLES OF THE WORLD

During this festival of Sukkot, may the fragile sukkah that recalls our ancestors’ forty-year sojourn in the barren wilderness, remind us of our obligation to assist the poor and the homeless, those in flight from persecution, and all those across the globe experiencing oppression, anguish, grief, loss, hardship and humiliation at this time.

Let us pause in the midst of our sacred celebrations to think, in particular, of the people of Syria – those trapped in war-torn cities and those who have become refugees – and also to remember the persecuted Rohingya Muslims exiled from Myanmar, now living in refugee camps in Bangladesh.

PAUSE FOR REFLECTION

Just as we wave the lulav in all the directions and so acknowledge the earth around us and Eternity beyond us, may we also to reach out to other peoples in distress wherever they live, contribute to the alleviation of their suffering, and commit ourselves to the sacred task of tikkun olam, repair of the world.

And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah, Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue

SUKKOT PRAYER

FOR THE SUFFERING PEOPLES OF THE WORLD

During this festival of Sukkot, may the fragile sukkah that recalls our ancestors’ forty-year sojourn in the barren wilderness, remind us of our obligation to assist the poor and the homeless, those in flight from persecution, and all those across the globe experiencing oppression, anguish, grief, loss, hardship and humiliation at this time.

Let us pause in the midst of our sacred celebrations to think, in particular, of the people of Syria – those trapped in war-torn cities and those who have become refugees – and also to remember the persecuted Rohingya Muslims exiled from Myanmar, now living in refugee camps in Bangladesh.

PAUSE FOR REFLECTION

Just as we wave the lulav in all the directions and so acknowledge the earth around us and Eternity beyond us, may we also to reach out to other peoples in distress wherever they live, contribute to the alleviation of their suffering, and commit ourselves to the sacred task of tikkun olam, repair of the world.

And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah, Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue

We have gathered here today on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, to mark a sacred moment that has been commemorated by the Jewish people for over 2000 years since the period of the Second Temple in Jerusalem.

For the past 45 years, Yom Kippur has also been the anniversary of the Yom Kippur War.^[1] Less than two weeks ago on the 13^th September, it was the 25th anniversary of that momentous handshake between the then Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and PLO Chairman Yasser Arafat that was supposed to be the beginning of the end of the conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians.^[2] Meanwhile, this year is the 70th anniversary of the establishment of the modern State of Israel and last year was the 50th anniversary of the Six Day War and subsequent occupation of the West Bank and Gaza. How many more anniversaries will pass before a resolution to the conflict is finally achieved?

My niece, Bella, who was born sixteen days after President Clinton facilitated that famous handshake on the White House lawn wants an answer to this question. Having spent time helping with the refugee crisis on Lesbos three years ago, and then gone on to work with Syrian refugees in Lebanon, Bella is about to embark on an MA in Middle Eastern Studies at SOAS, London University’s School of Oriental and African Studies, where her special subjects will include the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

My response to Bella is that we must never lose hope. We must never say that the situation will never change because change is always possible. Nevertheless, the twists and turns of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict have not yet transformed the lives of Israelis and Palestinians for the better. Amongst the most significant developments of the past thirty years has been the phenomenon of popular Palestinian uprisings – from the first intifada in 1987, through the second intifada in 2000 that followed the failed peace process and acceleration of settlement-building, through the unrest in the Gaza Strip today. Sparked by the move of the United States Embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem,^[3] the past few months have seen continuous protests in Gaza, involving mass gatherings at the border and retaliation by the Israeli army, resulting in scores of deaths, including the deaths of ordinary protesters alongside Hamas activists.^[4] This, in turn, has led to a new wave of rocket attacks and subsequent Israeli reprisals.^[5] The cycle of violence grinds on.

Meanwhile, here we are in Britain, a congregation of Jews, living as a minority. What can we do about events far away and beyond our control, which have nothing to do with our lives? We can’t do very much – but we can think and reflect – which is, after all, the main purpose of our being here on Yom Kippur. We can – and we must – think and reflect about Israel; not least because we have been reminded in recent months that Israeli government policy towards the Palestinians in the Palestinian territories, and also towards the 1.7 million Palestinians who live in Israel^[6], is predicated on the Israeli government’s understanding of Israel as a Jewish state. So, what does it mean to say that a country or a congregation is Jewish? Our Jewish congregation is home to many non-Jews and the Jewish state is also home to many non-Jews. One of the far-right parties that has emerged in Israel in recent years is called Yisrael Beytenu. Founded in 1999, Yisrael Beytenu translates as ‘Israel Our Home’. According to the vision statement of Yisrael Beytenu, published on their website, the party is guided by ‘three basic principles’: “1) Unity of the Nation, 2) the State of Israel as the National Homeland of the Jewish people, 3) No Citizenship Without Allegiance.”^[7] Israel has a multi-party system, so Yisrael Beytenu is one of many. However, its leader Avigdor Lieberman has held several ministerial roles, including, Deputy Prime Minister, and since 2016, he has been Minister of Defence. And so, the agenda of this far-right party has been for some years now at the heart of the Israeli government. Further, with the passage of the Nation State Bill into a law, entitled, ‘Basic Law: Israel as the Nation-State of the Jewish People’, the ‘three basic principles’ of Yisrael Beytenu have become the law of the land.

Of course, many Israeli political parties and national organisations committed to pluralism oppose the ‘Basic Law’, which was adopted with some amendments by the 120-seat Knesset on 19^th July, with 62 voting in favour, 55 against, and 2 abstentions.^[8] Significantly, the clause dealing with ‘the Capital of the State’, declares that Jerusalem ‘complete and united’, is the capital of Israel. In this way, the law not only officially relegates Israeli Palestinians to second-class status, but has ramifications for Palestinians living in the Palestinian territories, by legally enforcing the de facto treatment of Palestinian East Jerusalem as integral to Israel.

Clearly, from the perspective of the Basic Law, a Jewish state is one that privileges the Jewish people. Needless to say, this understanding of Israel as a Jewish state is at odds with its claims to be a democratic state in which all citizens have equal rights and responsibilities. It also contradicts a major clause of Israel’s Declaration of Independence:^[9]

THE STATE OF ISRAEL will be open for Jewish immigration and for the Ingathering of the Exiles; it will foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture; it will safeguard the Holy Places of all religions; and it will be faithful to the principles of the Charter of the United Nations.

So, according to the Declaration of Independence, the founding statement delivered by David Ben Gurion on 14 May 1948 that established the modern State of Israel, a Jewish state is one that treats all its citizens equally. Echoes of other independence declarations going back to the establishment of the United States of America in 1776, resonate in this clause. But the clause is not just the product of a modern, enlightenment consciousness. Let me quote a key phrase again: ‘The State of Israel … will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel.’ In that phrase, we see the fusion of two understandings of what it means to say that Israel is a Jewish state: that it is the State of the Jewish people and that it practices Jewish values. The haftarah we read on Yom Kippur, from the second part of the Book of Isaiah proclaims these values. As we read it today, let us imagine the prophet addressing the Jewish people today (58:1-7):

Cry aloud, do not hold back, let your voice resound like a trumpet; declare to My people their transgression, and to the house of Jacob their sins. / True, they seek Me daily, and say they long to know My ways, as if they were a nation that did justly and had not forsaken the precepts of their God. They ask of me just laws and long to be near to God. / When we fast, you say, ‘why do You pay no heed? Why do we afflict ourselves, and You take no notice?’ Because on your fast day you think only of your business, and oppress all your workers! / Because your fasting leads only to strife and discord, and hitting out with cruel fist! Such a way fasting on this day will not help you to be heard on high. / Is this the fast I look for? A day of self-affliction? Bowing your head like a reed, and covering yourself with sackcloth and ashes? Is this what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the Eternal One? / Is not this the fast I look for: to release the shackles of injustice, to undo the fetters of bondage, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every cruel chain? / Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and to bring the homeless poor into your house? When you see the naked, to cloth them, and never to hide yourself from your own kin?

Of course, the imperative of justice is not only found in the words of the prophets. The opening statement of Israel’s Declaration of Independence refers to ‘the eternal Book of Books’ bequeathed by the Jewish people to the world. In that ‘eternal Book of Books, the Hebrew Bible, we find many statements about justice – including in K’doshim, the Holiness Code, Leviticus chapter 19, at the heart of the Torah, from which we will read this afternoon. In addition to the declaration, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself. I am the Eternal’ (19:18), the Holiness Code also states, ‘You shall not oppress the stranger … you shall love the stranger as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. I am the Eternal your God’ (19:34).

When I was a child, and getting into scrapes, my mother taught me to make a particular declaration when challenged as a way of letting her know that I was being completely truthful: ‘on my Jewish word of honour’. And so, I learnt that being ‘Jewish’ means being honest and honourable. What did Avigdor Lieberman learn when he was growing up? The chief architect of a vision of the Jewish state that is completely devoid of Jewish values, migrated to Israel from Moldova in the Former Soviet Union in 1978 at the age of 20. A large proportion of the early Jewish immigrants to Israel also came from what was then the Russian Empire. One of these, Yeshayahu Leibowitz, brother of the well-known Bible scholar and educator, Nehama Leibowitz, was born in Riga (now the capital of Latvia) in 1903 and settled in Jerusalem in 1935. It would be an understatement to say that Yeshayahu Leibowitz had an entirely different outlook from that of Avigdor Lieberman. An Orthodox Jew all his long life – he died in 1994 at the age of 91 – Yeshayahu Leibowitz lived up to his name: ‘Yeshayahu’ is the Hebrew for ‘Isaiah’. This particular Isaiah was a true modern prophet of Israel. Indeed, he was one of the first Israeli thinkers to recognise that the occupation that ensued after the 1967 Six Day War, would have a terrible impact on the ethical fibre of Israel if it continued. This is what he wrote in his essay on ‘The Territories’ published just a year later, in 1968:^[10]

A state ruling a hostile population of 1.5 to 2 million foreigners would necessarily become a secret police-state, with all that implies for education, free speech and democratic institutions. The corruption characteristic of every colonial regime would also prevail in the State of Israel. The administration would suppress Arab insurgency on the one hand and acquire Arab quislings on the other. There’s also good reason to fear that the Israel Defence Force, which has been until now a people’s army, would, as a result of being transformed into an army of occupation, degenerate, and its commanders, who will have become military governors, resemble their colleagues in other nations.

I mentioned that Yeshayahu Leibowitz was an Orthodox Jew. The notion that a Jewish state should adhere to Jewish values is not a progressive idea. Jewish teaching about the land beyond the Jordan from the Bible onwards makes it clear that the nation must be rooted in the practice of justice. Indeed, the practice of justice is the nation’s principal purpose and if it is not rooted in the practice of justice, it will not endure. That is the message of the Torah and of the prophets – of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos and Micah, in particular – again and again. ^[11] A verse in the book of Deuteronomy puts it very succinctly: ‘Justice, Justice you shall pursue – Tzedek, tzedek tirdof – so that you may live and inherit the land that the Eternal God is giving to you.’^[12] It is also the message of history. The last independent Jewish state before the current one was the Hasmonean state that was established in 140 BCE after the defeat of the Assyrian Greeks. The Hasmonean state was short-lived, succumbing to Roman rule in 63 BCE. On the surface, it simply looks as though a small state was overcome by a massive empire. But the internal dynamics of the Hasmonean state tell a different story: a story of division and hatred, and of a leadership that became arrogant and corrupt.^[13]

When the Knesset passed the ‘Basic Law: Israel and the State of the Jewish People’, I tweeted my response using the hashtag, #notinmyname. The Jewish state is not just another country far away. Israel is maintaining a ruthless occupation of conquered land and subjecting 21% of its own citizens to second class status in the name of all those who identify as Jewish. If we want Israel to return to its founding ideals and be a refuge for Jews in flight from persecution and a beacon of Jewish ethical values, we must all say, not in my name.

Israel can be a Jewish state in the deepest sense of the word Jewish. Amongst the forty-nine nations of the world where Islam is the dominant religion^[14], the vast regions of the world where Christianity predominates and the fifteen nations where it is the state religion^[15] – including, England – the nations where Buddhism or Hinduism is the majority faith, the multireligious and officially nonreligious nations, Israel can be as the new Basic Law puts it, ‘The Nation-State of the Jewish people’. But it can only be ‘The Nation-State of the Jewish People’ if it practices Jewish values – or, as Israel’s Declaration of Independence puts it, if it ‘is based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel.’ In order to become this kind of Jewish state, it must extend equal rights to all its citizens and end the occupation.

It may feel impossible to imagine that Israel could become this kind of Jewish state. But the assertion of the ethical teachings of Judaism has always gone hand-in-hand with the determination to make what seems impossible possible by putting those ethical teachings into practice. One of the foremost Israeli champions of a just resolution of the conflict with the Palestinians, Uri Avnery, the founder and leader of Israel’s peace movement, Gush Shalom,^[16] died on 20 August in the midst of a period of huge demonstrations held in Rabin Square, Tel Aviv, against the ‘Basic Law’.^[17] In his tribute to Uri Avnery, Rabbi Michael Lerner, editor of Tikkun magazine, wrote:^[18]

Avnery devoted himself entirely to the struggle to achieve peace between the state of Israel and the Palestinian people in their independent state, as well as between Israel and the Arab and Muslim World. He did not get to the end of the road, did not live to see peace come about. We – the activists and supporters of Tikkun magazine, as well as the members of Gush Shalom as well as very many other people who were directly and indirectly influenced by him – will continue his mission and honor his memory.

Jews have always looked ahead to a better world – not a better world in the hereafter, but rather one that we build here on Earth. May our experience of observing this Yom Kippur inspire us and renew our spirits, so that we are ready to support and contribute to the efforts of all those, both in Israel and the Diaspora, who are working to make the Jewish state worthy of its name.

And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton & Hove Progressive Synagogue

Yom Kippur Shacharit 5779 – 19^th September 2018

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yom_Kippur_War ↑
2. http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/september/13/newsid_3053000/3053733.stm ↑
3. http://www.theweek.co.uk/jerusalem/90266/why-the-us-embassy-move-to-jerusalem-is-so-controversial ↑
4. https://www.haaretz.com/middle-east-news/palestinians/50-of-dead-in-gaza-protest-were-hamas-activists-says-hamas-official-1.6094899 ↑
5. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-45124357 ↑
6. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arab_citizens_of_Israel ↑
7. http://www.beytenu.org/the-vision-of-yisrael-beytenu-israel-our-home-2/ ↑
8. http://www.jewishpress.com/news/israel/the-knesset/basic-law-israel-as-the-nation-state-of-the-jewish-people-approved-by-knesset-62-55/2018/07/19/ ↑
9. https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/the-declaration-of-the-establishment-of-the-state-of-israel ↑
10. Published in: Judaism, Human Values, and the Jewish State. Harvard University Press, 1992. pp. 225, 226. ↑
11. See for example, Amos, chapter 9, which states that the Eternal One has no special preference for Israel, and will, indeed, destroy ‘the sinful nation’. ↑
12. Shof’tim, Deuteronomy 16:20 ↑
13. See: Jewish People, Jewish Thought: The Jewish Experience in History by Robert M Seltzer, chapter 4, the Hellenistic diaspora and the Judean Commonwealth to 70 CE, pp. 178-184. Macmillan publishing, New York, 1980. ↑
14. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muslim_world ↑
15. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christianity_by_country ↑
16. http://uriavnery.com/en/ ↑
17. https://972mag.com/tens-of-thousands-of-druze-protest-for-equality-in-tel-aviv/137069/ https://www.opednews.com/articles/Equality–100-000-demon-by-Joseph-Zernik-Civil-Rights_Israel-180805-652.html ↑
18. Tikkun E-Newsletter, 20.08.18. ↑

We have arrived at Yom Kippur. Yom Kippur feels to me like an anchor. It’s as if I’m a boat that sails out of the harbour each year into the stormy seas of life. And then, rather battered and in need of repair, just in time, the yamim nora’im, the ‘awed days’ that begin on Rosh Ha-Shanah, draw me back into harbour once more. But it’s not until that Yom Kippur anchor drops, holding me still for a day, that I know my year’s journey has ended and I can draw breath and rest.

Yom Kippur is a day of ceasing. Our lives are relentless in their ceaseless motion, 24/7, as the saying goes. But is one day of ceasing out of 365 days of continuous activity enough?

Of course, it’s not strictly true that we never cease. Each day is punctuated by a period of sleep – although most of us don’t get quite enough of it. Sleeping is ceasing. Previous generations, who lived before the invention of electricity, were invited to sleep each night with the onset of the dark. We live in very different times. And it’s not just that we can switch the lights on. For the past few decades, many people have had TVs in their bedrooms, and in more recent years, there’s been the lure of ever-glowing smart-phones, tablets and lap-tops, too. I don’t know when the expression ‘switching off’ came into common usage, but nowadays, the need for switching off has become quite literal – and urgent. After all, for many of us, even holidays, while officially breaks from work, do not interrupt our incessant engagement in keeping the wheels turning. Of course, some of our devices, may be used on holiday as aids to rest, like the Kindle for reading a book, or the tablet for playing a game or watching a film. But more often than not, keeping our devices switched on, means we are ourselves are always switched on – and open to the ceaseless chatter and clatter of social media and the 24 hour news cycle. And if we have email on our smartphones, there’s always the danger of taking a peak, and at the very least, noticing and being disturbed by the steady accumulation of missives in our inbox …

It is difficult to switch off on holiday – unless you make sure you completely get away from it all; preferably, to somewhere where the radio signal is poor. I can recommend walking along the Pembrokeshire coastal path in the far west of Wales. But then, there is Shabbat. Apart from the nightly opportunity to cease, we don’t have to wait a whole year to cease for a whole day. Shabbat is our weekly opportunity to get off the treadmill. The wisdom of Jewish teaching – going right back to the tales of the beginnings of life – tells us that working must be accompanied by ceasing. The two, go hand-in-hand. We read at the conclusion of the first creation narrative:^[1]

Va-yishbot ba-yom ha-sh’vi’I mi-kol m’lachto asher asah.

God ceased on the seventh day from all the work that God had done.

God ceased: Va-yishbot. The Hebrew root is Shin – Beit – Tav. We are more familiar with the noun, Shabbat. Work is essential; creativity is at the heart of what it is to be human. The first creation story tells us that after each day of creative activity God pronounced that it was ‘good’ – tov – and after the sixth day that it was ‘very good’ – tov m’od. Well, the same could be said for the wondrous works of human creative endeavour. However, in order to work creatively and productively, and to act for good in the world, we must cease. According to Jewish teaching, we must cease, not just once a year, but on the seventh day of every week. And when it comes to Shabbat, ‘ceasing’ is not the end of the matter despite the finality of the term. The song we associate with Kiddush on Shabbat morning – V’sham’ru – is part of a Torah passage about Shabbat.^[2] Referring to the Eternal One, it concludes with the phrase: U’va-yom ha-sh’vi’i shavat va-yinnafash– ‘Then on the seventh day, [God] ceased and was re-beinged.’^[3]

Ceasing allows each of us the chance to refresh our inner being. We may be familiar with the noun, nefesh, usually translated as ‘soul’. In the context of the biblical world-view in which there is no division between body and soul, nefesh is ‘being’. The first account of creation in the Torah relates that every animal – and not just the human – is a nefesh chayyah, a ‘living being’.^[4] Significantly, the Shabbat commandment we find in Exodus^[5] and Deuteronomy^[6] states that a household’s domestic animals are also entitled to cease from their work.^[7]

All living beings that work require rest. But this is rather theoretical. Shabbat may be a weekly oasis, when we can cease from all our activities of the working week and renew ourselves. But the reality is that we rarely visit this weekly oasis of ceasing. And so, we arrive at Yom Kippur, exhausted and depleted, in desperate need of ceasing big time. If we are serious about it and give ourselves to the day, Yom Kippur does not disappoint. Known as Shabbat Shabbaton, ‘the Sabbath of Sabbaths’, Yom Kippur is our annual opportunity to cease in the most comprehensive meaning of the word: not only to cease from work, but to cease from eating, drinking, sexual intimacy – all the ways in which we actively engage in our daily lives. Yom Kippur is the best daily life detox you can find: a day of complete ceasing.

And just because it is a day of complete ceasing, Yom Kippur presents a huge challenge to each one of us. So, right now, as the day stretches before us, in this profound moment of ceasing, in the absence of work and of any distracting activities, we are confronted with ourselves. How will we respond? Will we be in this deep moment or will we try to escape? Will we look into ourselves or will we look away? Difficult questions. Of course, the machzor, the High Holy Day prayer book that is our guide through the day may be helpful as we attempt to respond – or, may become just another source of distraction. After all, it’s possible to simply spend the day reading and singing our way through this rather marvellous collection of prayers and poems and passages of wisdom without pausing to reflect and focus inwards.

But then again, even if Yom Kippur seems to be just another way of keeping ourselves busy, the day is wiser than that and the words and the music combine to reach the parts of ourselves we try to avoid – especially, when they are repeated over and over. Gradually, if we stay here and allow the hours to dissolve away, that combination of words and music can take us to the deepest place of ceasing – ceasing that is not merely about stopping. When we cease, really cease, then we can unlock and open and let go – of the past year, of hurts and fears, resentments and disappointments – of all the detritus of the year that has passed that acts like a malevolent fuel stoking the engine of our lives with activity that is not simply about the imperative to be endlessly active, but is more about the impulse to crush ourselves and others in an effort to obliterate the pain of living.

Of course, generally, none of this is conscious. As we cease, we release ourselves from the prison of our habitual ways of being. And this unique day of ceasing has the potential to facilitate our release because, paradoxically, through all the prayers and services, it holds us so closely. And so, held by the exquisite structure of the day that moves us, emotionally, spiritually and physically, our ceasing from the daily round can release us from our mental strangleholds, too, without us making a conscious effort.

Yom Kippur can do all these things. But we need to let it happen – which means, we need to let down our guard, give up the urge to control, allow our resistance to crumble, and let go. Seven years ago, after rescuing a sparrow from one of my cats, and watching it miraculously revive and then fly away, I wrote a poem about Shabbat in which I articulated my caution about ceasing and also imagined the impact it might have on me. I wrote of ‘Letting go / reluctantly / awkwardly / gingerly / so-softly / timidly / releasing / my self / my soul / fluttering / from its cage / hesitant / fearful / beating crumpled wings. / Then / slowly / reviving / breathing deeply / expanding / filling with song / circling / swooping / diving / flying / soaring / learning to live / again.’ May this day of ceasing, release and revive each one of us so that we may renew our lives and resolve to practice the wisdom of ceasing in the year ahead.

And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue

Erev Yom Kippur 5779 – 18^th September 2018

1. B’reishit, Genesis 2:2b. ↑
2. Ki Tissa, Exodus 31: 12-17. ↑
3. Ditto: 31:17c. ↑
4. B’reishit, Gen. 1:21. ↑
5. Yitro, Ex. 20:8-11. ↑
6. Va-etchannan, Deuteronomy 5:12-15. ↑
7. Yitro, Ex. 20:10: ‘your cattle’. Va-etchannan, Deut. 5:14: ‘your ox’, ‘your ass’, ‘your cattle’. ↑

Have you watched the TV serial HUM∀NS? First broadcast on Channel 4 in 2015, the third series finished in the early summer. HUM∀NS, written with an upside down ‘A’, is sci-fi, but it is set in the very near future, just around the corner… Indeed, everything about the setting looks just like life today, except that robots have been created to do what humans don’t want to do, both on the domestic and work fronts. Called, ‘synths’ the robots look exactly like humans, but their heads move very slowly, they are nourished by electrical charge rather than by food, and when injured, leak turquoise blue liquid rather than blood. And of course, the synths have extraordinary powers, both intellectual and physical. The focus of all three series is on the social, cultural and psychological impact of the creation of the synths, and in the last series, in particular, on the ethical issues that arise when, as a result of a complex accidental re-programming, the synths awaken to full consciousness, which means that they now have feelings. At the moment that the synths become conscious, which involves becoming aware of their enslavement to humans, there is an outbreak of extreme violence that results in the deaths of tens of thousands of humans. In response, the authorities decide that the synths must be eliminated. But the synths have human advocates, in the form of a particular synth-owning family, who challenge the plan on the basis that conscious synths feel pain, both emotional and physical. What ensues is a struggle to defend the rights of the synths in the face of the planned genocide. Needless to say, the synths themselves do not all respond in the same way to their predicament. Some of them, want to reach out to humans believing that humans and synths can live peacefully together. Meanwhile, others, arguing that humans have proved themselves to be bent on domination and exploitation, become terrorists.

If you haven’t watched HUM∀NS, I’m sure it sounds very far-fetched. But is it? Right now, teams of scientists and technologists around the world are dedicating huge amounts of resources and ingenuity to the development of artificial intelligence and robotics. Is it far-fetched to suggest that given the astonishing extent of technological development over the past century, that there won’t come a time – and perhaps that time might arrive sooner than we think – when we reach the point of being able to create synthetic humans that are almost/just like us? So, what would the consequences be for society? We take it for granted that we control the things we make. What would it feel like to live in a society in which biological humans control synthetic humans? How would we justify our domination and exploitation, when the objects of our control look like us? And what if, in the process of refining synthetic humans, robots with programmed intelligence develop a consciousness that mirrors our own?

But the issue is not only about the emergence of a new binary between biological humans and synthetic humans. There is an even larger question for us to address concerning technological developments transforming our very nature as human beings. During the past 30 years, our technological wizardry has resulted in a stupendous acceleration, which has seen, for example, a mobile phone morph into a mini computer. And soon, it may be possible to do away with external devices altogether by inserting microchips into humans. Who would have thought that when we first invented the aeroplane and so found a way of transcending our biological limitations as a species destined to get from place to place by running on our two upright legs – rather slowly we might add, compared to other creatures – our zeal for extending our powers might result in being able to transcend our biological nature – and even our biological needs – altogether? Perhaps, for example, food scarcity might be solved by the invention of synthetic nutrients. And perhaps, the hazards, pain and trauma of childbirth might one day be overcome by incubating the foetus in an artificial womb. Could it come to pass that the unique creative abilities that mark out homo sapiens as a species, rather than our capacity for destruction might, in the end, result in our making ourselves extinct?

Since the Great War a century ago, and following the Sho’ah, the atomic bombings on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the accumulating evidence of our devastating impact on the environment, people have expressed increasing concern about humanity’s capacity to destroy the planet. For the most part, that concern has focused on the way in which we have harnessed our technological capacities for destructive purposes. And frequently, the preoccupation with humanity’s destructiveness has been linked with the notion that while our technological abilities have evolved, our inner drives remain as irrational as they were thousands of years ago. But maybe, we should be equally preoccupied with humanity’s boundless capacity for creative invention.

Of course, there are many theories about what it is to be human. Interestingly, Jewish teaching offers important insights. As the havdalah ceremony at the end of Shabbat reminds us, when we light the multi-wicked candle and say a blessing for the lights of the fire, and so demonstrate the first creative act after the day of ceasing from work, fire has, both, creative and destructive possibilities. We can use it to heat our homes and cook our meals, and we can also harness it for destruction.  Jewish teaching focuses less on the nature of being human and more on what humans do for good or ill. As we see in the first creation narrative in the Book of Genesis, God is less Being than Doing: creating the world in a series of acts, expressed repeatedly, with the Hebrew root, Ayin – Sin – Hei, to ‘do’ or to ‘make’. As Rabbi David Cooper puts it, God is a Verb.^[1] This first account of creation, speaks of God creating the human b’tzelem Elohim – ‘In the image of God’.^[2] So, just as God created the world through a series of actions, human beings, created in the Divine image, act on the world. And as we act on the world, we have the capacity, both, to create and destroy in equal measure. This Jewish perspective on what it means to be human actually meshes with what scientists have said about human evolution. What distinguishes homo sapiens from our great ape relations is our ability to use our hands. And so, the first human ancestors worked out how to make fire and fashion tools and weapons – and also covered their cave dwellings with paintings.

The human ability to creatively transform our environment is graphically illustrated in the story of the Tower of Babel, recounted towards the end of No’ach, the second parashah – portion – of the Book of Genesis (chapter 11). Significantly, when people came together to build a tower that would scale the heavens, they made it out of bricks, rather than stone. We read: ‘They said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly”. And they had brick for stone, and slime for mortar. Then they said: “Come, let us build us a city, and a tower with his top in heaven”’^[3] While stone comes directly from the earth, bricks, are made by humans out of the earth, specifically, out of clay, sand and lime, which is fired. The city, the tower; when the first humans emerged out of caves and began to build dwellings, they began to fashion a built environment, and to have an impact on the natural world. Of course, even a garden, by definition, represents human mastery over the natural environment.

During the past year, we have been painfully aware of the devastation caused by the fire that incinerated Grenfell Tower in North Kensington in London on 14 June 2017, resulting in the deaths of 72 people and an ongoing tragedy for the survivors, who were made homeless, their families and the local community. Almost exactly a year after the Grenfell Tower fire, the Glasgow School of Art, a stunning building designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh, was consumed by fire^[4] – the second fire in four years,^[5] except on this occasion, the conflagration was so intense that it has damaged the school beyond repair. The two edifices couldn’t be more different – the one, an ugly emblem of the worst of social housing and bad planning, the other a testament to our human capacity for creating beauty. In both cases, the fire that brought such destruction was not deliberately ignited, but in both cases, the respective enquiries will no doubt demonstrate that responsibility lies in the hands of people, who failed in one way or another to do what was necessary to safeguard the buildings. On the surface it may seem as if the doing human is always presented with a binary choice, between creation and destruction. But reality is more complex. Our capacity as doing beings to act on the world means that we have to bear responsibility for all our actions, constructive and destructive, and for the outcomes, sometimes unintended, of everything we do.

In a short while, we will hear the blasts of the shofar, the ram’s horn. Significantly, the shofar is not a musical instrument. Like a trumpet or a flute, it creates sounds with human breath, but unlike these and other wind instruments, it is not crafted by human hands, and it is devoid of keys and stops. All that it takes to sound the shofar is breath – nishmat chayyim, ‘the breath of life’ that as we read in the second creation story in Genesis brought the first human to life.^[6] Even more important, although an individual blows the shofar, the mitzvah, ‘commandment’ or obligation, associated with the shofar is not the blowing and making of the sounds, but rather the act of listening: Blessed are You, Eternal One our God, whose commandments make us holy and who commands us to listen to the voice of the shofar – lishmo’a kol shofar. So today, on Rosh Ha-Shanah, harat olam, ‘the birthday of the world’, as on Shabbat, we are called to cease from our work, to cease from doing and making in order to listen. We are called to listen, not as our creaturely cousins prick their ears to listen out for prey or predator, but rather to listen to the voice that is beyond our human occupations and preoccupations, the wordless voice of a ram’s horn that not only recalls our past as a people and heralds the future, but also summons us to be present now in this moment. How might we ensure that our creative capacity to transcend our biological limitations doesn’t in the end render our species extinct? Some might argue that all we can do is devise stringent legally binding regulations and controls. The blowing of the shofar suggests another way. Perhaps, if we pause to listen, if humanity pauses to listen, we might hear the breath that whispers and rasps within us every moment of our lives and rediscover the ancient wisdom contained in the Torah: that doing is, paradoxically, inextricably bound up with ceasing; and that there can be no work without rest and no rest without work. As we mark the New Year, may we listen deeply and breathe deeply and learn to cease as well as to act. And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton & Hove Progressive Synagogue

Rosh Ha-Shanah Shacharit 5779 – 10^th September 2018

1. God is a Verb. Kabbalah and the Practice of Mystical Judaism by Rabbi David A. Cooper. The Berkley Publishing Group, New York, 1997. ↑
2. Genesis 1: 27. ↑
3. Genesis 11:3-4a. ↑
4. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-glasgow-west-44507189 ↑
5. https://www.theguardian.com/education/2014/nov/26/glasgow-school-of-art-fire-foam-canister-report ↑
6. Genesis 2:7. ↑

The sun has set and a New Year has just begun. Before we can look forward and move forward, we must look back and reflect on the year that has now passed. There’s been a lot in the news about anti-Semitism during the past year. In particular, here in Britain in connection with the Labour Party. How odd it has been, day after day, to switch on the radio, TV, or go on the Internet and find one story after another about anti-Semitism. Over the summer, the focus was on the Labour Party’s new Code of Conduct on Anti-Semitism and its departure from the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance Definition that has gained almost universal acceptance across the world.^[1] Why did the Labour Party decide to depart from this definition? The reason why the IHRA definition was not adopted by the Labour Party revolved around examples of anti-Semitism included in the IHRA definition that related to Israel. In case you are not familiar with these examples, they include – and I quote: ‘Denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination, e.g., claiming that the existence of the State of Israel is a racist endeavour’, ‘Applying double standards by requiring of it behaviour not expected or demanded of any other democratic nation’, ‘Using the symbols and images associated with classic anti-Semitism (e.g., claims of Jews killing Jesus or blood libel) to characterise Israel or Israelis’, ‘Drawing comparisons of contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis’, ‘Holding Jews collectively responsible for actions of the State of Israel’.

As you may be aware, I was one of 68 rabbis from across the denominational spectrum, who wrote a letter to the Guardian challenging the Labour Party’s failure to adopt the IHRA definition.^[2] Like several of the signatories, I am also a member of the British Friends of Rabbis for Human Rights, an Israel-based organisation that defends the rights of Palestinians, and in particular, challenges house demolitions. I’ve also been a Labour voter for 45 years. Ten days after that letter was published, I wrote my own letter to the Guardian – which wasn’t published. I decided to write because I felt that for all the words written, spoken and shouted about the issue, it had not been made clear that the reason why the IHRA definition and its examples was not adopted by the Labour Party is because of a particular view of Israel and Zionism. Let me quote from my letter:

The Labour Party’s departure from the IHRA working definition in respect of anti-Semitic responses to Israel fails to challenge the persistent view held by certain sections of the Labour Party that Israel is by definition an imperialist state, and by extension, that Zionism is a racist ideology.

This view, which refuses to acknowledge that the rise of political Zionism was a Jewish response in the late 19th century to a new form of racist anti-Semitism, and that national self-determination was understood by Herzl and others as a solution to that anti-Semitism, demonstrates a complete disregard for Jewish experience, and, consequently, is a form of anti-Semitism.

As we know, last week the Labour Party National Executive Committee, which is the body responsible for determining Labour Party policy, took the decision to adopt the IHRA definition in full, with the addition of a statement that – and I quote: “This will not in any way undermine freedom of expression on Israel or the rights of the Palestinians.” Was this additional statement necessary given that the IHRA definition does not prevent criticism of Israel? The longer statement suggested by Jeremy Corbyn, which was not adopted, gets to the heart of the issue. This is what he wanted the Labour Party to say – and I quote: “it should not be considered anti-Semitic to describe Israel, its policies or the circumstances around its foundation as racist because of their discriminatory impact, or to support another settlement of the Israel Palestine conflict.”^[3]

I’ve read the IHRA definition of anti-Semitism and I have also read the Labour Party’s code on anti-Semitism prior to the adoption of the IHRA. I’ve also listened to endless commentary on the BBC – principally, Radio 4 and BBC 2’s Newsnight – and various commentators from both sides of the argument, and yet, in my view, no one has yet identified the central issue. If the Labour Party wishes to bridge the gulf between these opposing sides – and let us not forget that there are Jews on both sides of the argument – what is required is acknowledgement that the rise of the Zionist movement in the late 19^th century was a direct response to the rise of a new virulent form of racist anti-Semitism in Europe, and that the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 was a direct consequence of the murder of half the Jews of Europe in the Sho’ah. To do justice to both peoples, all that is required is for the Labour Party to acknowledge these ‘circumstances around’ the ‘foundation’ of Israel. Only those determined to maintain a binary view of the issue – so plainly played out in the pro-Palestine versus pro-Israel demonstrations that were held during the NEC meeting on 4^th September – could argue with this statement; my suggested version: ‘The creation of the State of Israel as a refuge from persecution for the Jewish people, following the unprecedented horror of the murder of half the Jews of Europe, had an unintended discriminatory impact on the Palestinian people. It should not be considered anti-Semitic to challenge Israel’s policies towards the Palestinians – both in Israel and in the occupied territories – as racist.’ On 29^th November 1947, the United Nations adopted resolution 181 (II)^[4] to partition the disputed land into two states, a Jewish state and a Palestinian state. If the Labour Party is a true friend of the Palestinian people then what they should be doing is campaigning vigorously for the establishment of a State of Palestine alongside the State of Israel, which is what the majority of Palestinians want.

So, the Labour Party has some more work to do. But I haven’t decided to speak to you about this issue this evening as we embark on a New Year simply to rehearse a concern close to our hearts that has dominated the headlines. In my view, there is something even more problematic at the core of this. It makes me feel rather queasy that Jewish life is barely visible in Britain, except when anti-Semitism rears its ugly head, or an Israeli government action grabs the headlines – as it did during the summer concerning the military response to the protests in Gaza^[5] and also the recently enacted Nation State Law^[6], which has legalised the treatment of Israeli Palestinians as second-class citizens. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my Jewishness defined, either, by anti-Semitism, or, by the actions of the Israeli government.

So, here we are, on the threshold of the New Year – the Jewish New Year. As we prepare to make a new beginning, each one of us is challenged to consider what being Jewish means to us and, perhaps, ask ourselves some questions – like: In what ways do I identify as a Jew? In what ways do I live as a Jew? Is being a Jew central to my life, or simply, one of the many facts about me? If we don’t want to be defined by anti-Semitism or by the actions of the Israeli government, then each one of us needs reflect on how we define ourselves.

It’s not easy to face a challenge. And it’s even harder than those questions might suggest. That’s because something else has become very evident during the past year in the midst of the heated discussions about anti-Semitism in the Labour Party, and that’s the phenomenon of another form of Jew hatred: Jews expressing hatred towards other Jews.

Sadly, it’s not a new phenomenon. The early rabbis explained that the last Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE as a consequence of sinat chinam, ‘groundless hatred’ that had fomented between the different factions of Jewish life at that time.^[7] Interestingly, the phenomenon of Jews hating Jews does get spoken about, but mostly by Jews who justify their hatred of other Jews on the basis that the Jews they hate are self-hating Jews, who seek the destruction of the Jewish people – in particular, because they don’t tow the Israel right or wrong party-line, but rather are committed to a just and equitable solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

During the summer, Jews spewing hateful abuse about other Jews came to a head, following the decision of some young Liberal and Reform Jews to attend a ‘Kaddish for Gaza’ event on 16 May^[8] that was held in response to Israeli military action that involved the killing of 62 Palestinian protesters. One young person, in particular, a youth leader whose family are members of a Reform synagogue in North London, was subjected to extremely hateful outpourings, and eventually the decision was taken by the Movement for Reform Judaism that she could not take up her place as a youth leader on the RSY-Netzer Israel tour.^[9]

I’m pleased to say that Liberal Judaism reached out to her and offered her a place on the LJY-Netzer Israel tour instead.^[10] But that’s not to say that LJ has been immune from the climate of hostility generated in the aftermath of the Kaddish for Gaza. In fact, although it was not official LJ policy, I was warned off saying my prayer for peace between Israelis and Palestinians during the Shabbat morning service I led with my co-editor colleague Rabbi Lea Mühlstein of Northwood and Pinner Liberal Synagogue at the LJ Biennial conference^[11] on the basis that reading the prayer – which, incidentally, is included in the draft Shabbat morning service we were using – might antagonise some people who were angry about Liberal Jews participating in the Kaddish for Gaza.

As I mentioned a moment ago, the expression of antagonism between Jews is not a new phenomenon. As the saying goes, ‘two Jews three opinions’, and we Jews tend to express our opinions rather vehemently. But the issue is not just about arguments between Jews and between groups of Jews. The entire structure of the Babylonian Talmud, edited around the year 500, takes the form of argument and the lengthy presentation of different viewpoints, followed by the majority decision taken. The problem centres on the crystallisation of particular points of view as ‘right’ which are then set against other points of view regarded as ‘wrong’. The mainstream Jewish community – that is the organised cross-denominational Jewish community – often adopts this binary approach, most frequently in the context of Israel. Meanwhile, those Jews who oppose what is seen as the Jewish establishment, also often adopt a binary approach. In other words, both sides of this Jewish argument seem to be saying the same thing: ‘we are right and you are wrong.’ Of course, it’s not an equal match. The established Jewish community represents the majority – that is Jews who are affiliated to synagogues and other mainstream Jewish organisations – and this only serves to fuel the grievance of the minority, who are unaffiliated or disaffiliated, and see themselves as marginalised.

Nevertheless, for both sides, the attitude seems to be, either you are for us or you are against us. And woe betide you, if you pick the wrong side, because you will be seen, either, as a self-hating-Jewish-traitor, or a supine-Jewish-establishment-apologist. Of course, the wisest thing to do is not take sides, but rather, investigate what is actually going on and, above all, reconnect ourselves with our values as Liberal Jews, who are working for a ‘world’ which ‘stands’, as we read in Pirkei Avot, the collection of the wise aphorisms of the early rabbis, ‘on Justice [ha-Din], and on Truth [ha-Emet], and on Peace [ha-Shalom].’^[12]

I could move to a conclusion now, but there’s something else that needs to be said about anti-Semitism itself, not just about the debate about anti-Semitism in the Labour Party and Jews hating Jews. In August, Jess and I went to Edinburgh. While we were in that stunning city, we chose a rainy day to visit the National Galleries of Scotland. The contemporary art collection is divided into two buildings and in ‘Modern Two’, we visited the exhibition of the works of German expressionist painter, Emil Nolde, entitled, ‘Colour is Life’. Reading the panel introducing the exhibition, we learnt that Nolde had been a member of the Nazi party, but had then fallen foul of the Nazis, who condemned his art as ‘degenerate.’ Having the impression that Nolde had rejected Nazi ideology, nothing could prepare us for we found in room 3, which was dedicated to his ‘religious paintings.’ The introductory panel described him as a ‘passionate’ Christian, and then we saw a painting of the crucifixion, entitled, ‘Martyrdom III’, with the crucified Christ in the background, and four other figures, depicting the chief priests and elders referred to in the Gospels,^[13] two of whom, facing one another in the foreground, appeared as ghastly anti-Semitic caricatures. We felt extremely shocked. Reading the accompanying panel, the anti-Semitism reflected in the images was mentioned, but we felt that it was described rather than challenged.

We decided to make a complaint. Fortunately, we were taken very seriously. The manager spent some time with us in the library, and took copious notes. In addition to listening carefully, his notetaking also included our suggestions for what needed to happen in order for the public to be warned about the anti-Semitic content of the painting, and for the message to be clearly communicated about the link between such anti-Semitic caricatures and anti-Jewish persecution that continues to this day. The same day, he copied us into an email he had written to those involved in the exhibition, including the Director-General of the National Galleries of Scotland. The next day we received an email from the Director-General, Sir John Leighton. To cut a long story short, Sir John kept us regularly informed, sending us the amended texts for the panels in question, for the website^[14] and other publicity materials, and for new warning notices at the ticket office and at the entrance to the exhibition. Within three days all the actions we had suggested had been taken.

Anti-Semitism was a reality in the past and remains a reality today. It finds expression in art and culture, Christian Scripture, Islamist radicalism, right-wing movements everywhere – and on the left, where it principally takes the form of demonisation of Israel as a racist state. So, what is anti-Semitism? The central motif of anti-Semitism that distinguishes it from other forms of racism is the identification of ‘The Jews’ as the malevolent perpetrators of every evil from the killing of Jesus through Capitalism, Communism and Imperialism – depending on the perspective of the Jew-hater or Jew-hating group. Will anti-Semitism ever end? An unanswerable question. So, where do we go from here? What hope is there that the New Year may be any different from the old one? Well, it certainly won’t be any different if we don’t make a difference. And we can make a positive difference to the world in which we live. For one thing, we can work to eradicate anti-Semitism and all forms of racism. But to have any chance of making a difference on any matter each one of us needs to take time to inform ourselves, reflect, draw on our personal resources of integrity and courage, and then take steps to do what we can to promote justice, truth, and peace in our homes, in our communities, in the wider society and across the globe – and yes, in connection with the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians. May this be our New Year’s resolution. And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton & Hove Progressive Synagogue, Erev Rosh Ha-Shanah 5779 – 9^th September 2018

1. On the Jewish Voice for Labour website you can find a document that compares the Labour code on anti-Semitism with the IHRA definition – side by side:

   https://www.jewishvoiceforlabour.org.uk/app/uploads/2018/07/ANTISEMITISM-IHRA-and-LP.pdf See also:

   https://labour.org.uk/members/my-welfare/my-rights-and-responsibilities/coc-antisemitism-and-other-racism/

   https://www.holocaustremembrance.com/sites/default/files/press_release_document_antisemitism.pdf ↑

2. https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2018/jul/16/labour-party-must-listen-to-the-jewish-community-on-defining-antisemitism ↑
3. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-45414656 ↑
4. https://unispal.un.org/DPA/DPR/unispal.nsf/0/7F0AF2BD897689B785256C330061D253 ↑
5. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-44124556 ↑
6. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-44881554 ↑
7. We read in the Babylonian Talmud (Yoma 9B): ‘Why was the first sanctuary destroyed? Because of three things which prevailed there: idolatry, immorality, bloodshed. But why was the second sanctuary destroyed, seeing that in its time they were occupying themselves with Torah, mitzvot and the practice of tz’dakah? Because therein prevailed hatred without cause [sinat chinam]. This teaches you that groundless hatred is considered as of even gravity with the three sins of idolatry, immorality, and bloodshed altogether.’ ↑
8. https://www.facebook.com/events/371596950027114/ ↑
9. https://www.thejc.com/news/uk-news/reform-judaism-sorry-for-hurt-it-caused-dropped-kaddish-for-gaza-participant-1.467627 ↑
10. https://www.thejc.com/news/uk-news/kaddish-gaza-nina-morris-evans-israel-tour-liberal-reform-ujia-1.467237 ↑
11. 30 June 2018. https://issuu.com/liberaljudaism/docs/online_programme ↑
12. Pirkei Avot 1:18. Pirkei Avot, ‘The Chapters of the Sages’ is appended to Seider N’zikin, the fourth ‘order’ of the Mishnah, the first rabbinic code of law, edited c. 200 CE. ↑
13. Matthew 27. ↑
14. https://www.nationalgalleries.org/exhibition/emil-nolde-colour-life ↑