Yesterday, it was Purim – actually, according to tradition, today is Purim for those living in walled cities like Jerusalem.

On Erev Shabbat, we enjoyed the wonderful Purim Spiel written by Stan Baker – and despite being unable to gather together as we did at Purim last year, nevertheless, in the cacophony that is characteristic of zoom when people unmute, we booed the villains and cheered the heroes with our usual gusto.

Heroes and villains; good and evil. The Book of Esther relates the history of the persecution of minority Jewish communities in the diaspora in simple binary terms. And yet the triumph of good over evil in the story involves an orgy of violence perpetrated by the ‘goodies’^[1]. In some ways it’s not surprising. How often in the complex, messy reality of human affairs, have efforts to overturn tyranny from Egypt^[2] until now involved violence? And how few have been the occasions when this has not been the case. Perhaps, the division between good and evil, ‘goodies’ and ‘baddies’, isn’t as straightforward as it seems.

The same is true of all binaries that divide life into neat polar opposites. As it happens, a significant dimension of Jewish teaching is expressed in terms of binaries – and by one binary, in particular, the gender division between ‘male’ and ‘female’. In fact, halakhah, Jewish law is rooted in gender divisions, specifically, the division between the public space that is the preserve of males and the domestic space that is the preserve of females. And so, the responsibilities of Jewish life are divided according to gender between these two spaces, the public and the domestic. Men are obligated to perform the great majority of the positive time-bound mitzvot, including, thrice-daily prayer. Women are exempted from public positive time-bound mitzvot and are specifically obligated to observe just three positive mitzvot, all of which are performed in the domestic or private sphere^[3]: lighting Shabbat and festival candles, dividing the challah dough and keeping the rules of niddah, often expressed as taharat ha-mishpachah, ‘the purity of the family’– that is, going to the mikveh, the ritual bath for immersion, following childbirth and menstruation.

And yet, this is not the whole story. Indeed, Jewish teaching includes a great deal of wisdom that isn’t expressed in binaries. There is so much I could tell you about this – it would fill a book – which is exactly what I’m going to do; write a book about it. So, in the limited time available, I would like to focus on just one example of non-binary Jewish teaching. It’s a rather beautiful example.

My favourite ritual is the havdalah ceremony that concludes Shabbat. Significantly, it centres on three elements: the fruit of the vine (wine or grape juice), spices, and the lights of the fire. On the face of it, the ceremony marks the distinction between the seventh day and the six working days – and, in fact, havdalah means, ‘distinction’. Indeed, the concluding blessing lists a series of binary distinctions:

Blessed are You Eternal One our God, Sovereign of the universe, who distinguishes between holy and mundane (bein kodesh l’chol), between light and darkness (bein or l’choshech), between the seventh day and the six days of work (bein yom ha-sh’vi’vi l’sheishet y’mei ha-ma’aseh).^[4]

But when we examine the three ritual elements that constitute the havdalah ceremony, it’s clear that there is some subversion of binary assumptions going on. First, the single havdalah candle is plural; an intertwining of multiple wicks. Lit at the beginning of the ceremony, the blessing over the candle, follows those for the fruit of the vine and spices – and the words are very interesting: we acknowledge the Eternal One who ‘creates the lights of the fire’ – borei m’orei ha-eish. While on Erev Shabbat, we are commanded ‘to kindle the light of Shabbat’ – l’hadlik neir shel Shabbat^[5] – singular – havdalah speaks of ‘lights’ – plural. So, plural wicks, plural lights. And that’s not all; unlike on Erev Shabbat, the blessing we recite on the blazing flames of those multiple wicks is about fire. Kindling fire represents the first creative act after Shabbat. But fire is not simply a creative power. It is also a destructive power. As human beings we are creators and destroyers. And not just at different times. Sometimes in the same moment.

There is so much more I could say, but let’s move on to the other elements. After the candle is lit at the beginning of the havdalah ceremony, the first blessing we recite is for the fruit of the vine. However, while on Erev Shabbat and during Shabbat day, we simply drink this symbol of joy, at the end of havdalah we don’t just drink from the cup, we spill the contents and douse the flames of the candle with it, and so demonstrate that our joy is diminished.

The second blessing is reserved for the spices – again, the notion of plurality is key and reflected in the words of the blessing, acknowledging the Eternal One who ‘creates different types of spices’ – borei minei v’samim. And of course, by definition, spices are complex, in their aroma and in their taste. As we bid farewell to Shabbat, we breathe in the stimulating, potent mixture of aromas – taking in the arresting spirit of the day set apart for rest and renewal like spiritual fuel for the working week ahead, which, inevitably, will mix in with all the other complex energies within us as we deal with the challenges of our daily lives. Ostensibly, a ritual that symbolically distinguishes Shabbat from the six working days, havdalah draws out the complexity of our lived experience in which all the myriad elements cannot be neatly separated and distinguished.

Interestingly, the beginning of this week’s parashah, T’tzavveh, offers another gateway to recognising that complexity. The portion opens at Exodus chapter 27, verse 20, with the instruction to the Israelites to bring clear oil of beaten olives for lighting the lamp (ma’or), which Aaron and his sons were to set up in the tent of meeting, outside the curtain over the Ark to burn from evening until morning.^[6] While the verses here seem to suggest nothing more than a singular lamp, elsewhere in the Torah, at the beginning of the parashah, B’ha’alot’cha at Numbers chapter 8, we learn that the singular lamp was also plural^[7]:

The Eternal One spoke to Moses, saying; / Speak to Aaron and say to him, ‘When you mount the lights (ha-neirot), let the seven lights (shivat ha-neirot) give light (ya’iru) in front of the lampstand (m’norah)’.

Apart from the fact that the lamp is designated by different Hebrew words in the two texts – ma’or^[8], which is related to or, ‘light’, and m’norah^[9], which is related to neir, another word for ‘light’^[10] – the most significant difference between the two passages, is that the second one speaks of shivat ha-neirot, ‘seven lights’. As we find when we read the detailed description of the lampstand in last week’s Torah portion, T’rumah, the m’norah consisted of a central branch, with three branches on either side.^[11] Each of the seven branches was topped by a cup to be filled with oil for the lighting.

The seven-branched m’norah is the most ancient and the most powerful symbol of Judaism. And of course, the number seven is significant. We live through each year in cycles of seven days. Ultimately, what the ceremony of havdalah dramatises is not so much the distinction between Shabbat and the six working days, but rather the way in which the meaning of the seventh day as a day set apart for rest and renewal can only be understood in the context of the week as a whole. May we learn from the ritual of havdalah and from the symbolism of the m’norah to acknowledge and celebrate the glorious, multiplicity of life. And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue

27^th February 2021 – 15^th Adar 5781

1. See the Book of Esther, Chapter 9. ↑

2. See Exodus chapters 7:14-12:29 for the narrative of the ten plagues unleashed against Egypt ↑

3. The principal is stated in the Talmud as ‘positive precepts dependent on time from which women are exempt’ (see the Babylonian Talmud, Kiddushin 22b-35a, commenting on Mishnah Kiddushin 1:7). But since the mitzvot specifically allocated to women, in particular the lighting of the Shabbat and festival candles, are dependent on time, it is clear that women are specifically exempted from those positive mitzvot dependent on time that take place in the public arena – that is, in the congregation. ↑

4. The traditional version also includes the words: bein Yisra’eil la’amim – ‘between Israel and the nations’. ↑

5. Although it is common to have two candles, in some traditions, a single lamp is lit. ↑

6. Exodus 27:20-21. ↑

7. Numbers 8:1-2. The text continues for two more verses. ↑

8. Exodus 27:20. ↑

9. Numbers 8:2. ↑

10. Neir is the word used in the Shabbat and festivals candle-blessing: l’hadlik neir shel … ‘to kindle the light of…’ ↑

11. Exodus 25:31-40. ↑

It has been quite a week for milestones connected to the issues that have dominated the news during the past year.

On Monday, it was Martin Luther King Day in the United States, held each year on the third Monday in January to mark the birthday of Martin Luther King Junior on January 15, 1929^[1]. Dr King led the struggle to ensure that ‘Black Lives Matter’ back in the 1960s – and paid for it with his life, when he was gunned down on a balcony in a motel in Memphis, Tennessee on April 4, 1968. I remember watching the news. A month short of my 13^th birthday, a heavy pall of mourning descended on my family home.

So that was Monday. On Tuesday, 1,610 deaths were recorded in the UK, the highest daily number to date since the pandemic began. But then, there was Wednesday: 1,820 deaths – another gruesome, heart-breaking record. This country now tops the world in the number of coronavirus deaths per million people, with Brazil a close second, and the USA, 8^th on the list ^[2].

Wednesday, January 20 was also the much-awaited date on the US calendar that saw the inauguration of Joe Biden as the 46^th President of the United States – alongside Kamala Harris, the first woman and person of colour as Vice-President. A momentous day held in the midst of a total lockdown of the city, following the assault on the Capitol by Trump supporters two weeks earlier^[3] – a right-wing insurrection that eclipsed the news of the Senate Democratic victories in Georgia that day^[4].

Significantly, President-elect Biden chose to mark the eve of his inauguration by presiding over a Memorial Service to acknowledge the milestone of 400,000 coronavirus deaths in the US. The simple dusk service, which included the lighting of lamps alongside the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, opened with a prayer from the black Roman Catholic Archbishop of Washington DC, Wilton Gregory, the first African-American Cardinal. Next, Vice President-elect, Kamala Harris spoke, before inviting Lorie Marie Key, a black nurse from Detroit to sing ‘Amazing Grace’ – as she does when she ministers to Covid-19 patients. Finally, it was the turn of President-Elect Biden, who counselled: ‘It’s hard sometimes to remember, but that’s how we heal’^[5]. Of course, he was speaking from the heart, from his own experiences of personal tragedy, grief and loss.

So, a week, indeed, to remember. Will it usher in a time of healing?

Next week, on January 27, two very different commemorative dates fall on one day: International Holocaust Memorial Day and Tu Bishvat, the New Year for Trees^[6]. Unlike Yom Ha-Sho’ah on the 27^th of the Hebrew month of Nisan, the Jewish day set aside for remembrance of the six million of our people who were murdered, January 27 is a date on the global calendar. The world is called to remembrance. Perhaps, Tu Bishvat should also be marked across the planet. After all, just as racism, inequality and injustice continue to stalk the globe 76 years after the defeat of Nazism, the Earth itself is in danger. Every nation and every people must heed the warnings of global warming and the loss of biodiversity – and act now.

We look for glimmers of hope. And there are some. The roll-out of the coronavirus virus vaccine, although slow, holds out the hope that infection rates will fall and the pandemic will be on the wane in the second half of 2021. Meanwhile, the reduction of flights during the pandemic has had some positive impact on the planet^[7]. When the coronavirus crisis is over, we know that we cannot return to life as ‘normal’; we have to create a new normal rooted in our guardianship of the Earth.

The new American administration offers hope – not least because of the decision to re-join the Paris Climate Accord confirmed on Inauguration Day^[8]. If he was alive today, Dr King would have seen glimmers of hope in the Biden/Harris team. And born as he was in Atlanta, Georgia, he would have detected bright flames of hope in the Georgia election on January 6 that saw the first black man from that state together with a Jew, elected to the Senate.^[9] A milestone in itself, the success of these two Democrats means that the Senate is now 50:50 between the two parties. And so, with the casting vote in the hands of the Vice President, the Democratic program of reform should have a chance to prevail.

We can certainly find hope in Tu Bishvat, which reminds us that even in the midst of winter, the sap is rising in the trees. And we can even find hope in remembrance of the Sho’ah on international Holocaust Memorial Day, which marks the moment on 27 January 1945 when the Red Army liberated Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Nevertheless, we are still living in a time of peril on all fronts – not least, the economic fallout of Brexit. How do we make sense of it all? How do we navigate a path for our lives in the challenging circumstances we are experiencing? In my view, to survive we need to think big and act small. Quoting a 19^th-century American pastor, Martin Luther King Jr. taught that “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.”^[10]

At this testing time that threatens to overwhelm us, it is essential that we keep the vision of that arc in our minds, while focusing on getting by day-by-day. Ten days ago, I began noting down a few things each day, however small, that gave me joy. I found an unused notebook, and decided to begin on Rosh Chodesh Sh’vat, the 1^st day of the Hebrew month of Sh’vat, with its promise that, appearances to the contrary, spring is on its way. A lot of my entries focus on the delicious, nourishing meals that punctuate my day. I’ve also included, the sparkle of the early morning frost before sunrise, the sunshine breaking through the clouds, and my daily walk. I can really recommend taking a moment before going to bed to reflect and note down moments of joy, however fleeting. Acknowledging these micro-moments doesn’t change anything at the macro level, but it can change how we feel and enable us to carry on.

Today is Mental Health Awareness Shabbat, reminding us of the importance of recognising the mental health challenges we all face. If we manage to pay attention to moments of joy that we experience each day, we may also be able to remember that the seemingly insignificant things we do each day can make a difference to the wider world, even in these coronavirus times. Every time we recycle rather than throw away, every time we reach out to an isolated neighbour, every time we help someone in need or share what we have with others, we are contributing to the renewal of the planet. Every time we act with compassion and consideration, we help to transform the social climate.

We can’t wait for the long arc of the moral universe to arrive at its destination. Justice, compassion and healing won’t happen without our acts of justice, compassion and healing. More important, we can’t banish the forces of injustice and destruction by relegating them to an evil realm. In Psalm 89, verse 3, we find the phrase, Olam chesed yibbaneh, ‘the world will be built out of love’. But it’s not true. We have to rebuild and repair the world out of everything we find in it, including, the debris of hatred, fear and mistrust. That’s why, when my dear colleague, Rabbi Monique Mayer of Bristol and West Progressive Jewish Congregation, taught us an evocative tune for the words Olam chesed yibbaneh at our annual rabbinic retreat four years ago, taking my cue from the title of Amos Oz’s memoir, A Tale of Love and Darkness^[11], I decided to add the word choshech, ‘darkness’. So: Olam chesed v’choshech yibbaneh – ‘The world will be built out of love and darkness’^[12].

In this week’s Torah portion, Bo^[13], the plagues visited on Egypt reach a crescendo, with the final three: locusts, darkness, and the death of the firstborn. It might seem that compared to locusts and mass death, darkness is less horrifying – and certainly does not constitute a plague. But the description in parashat Bo suggests otherwise: ‘The Eternal One said to Moses: “Hold out your arm towards the sky that there may be darkness upon the land of Egypt, darkness that can be touched.” / Moses then held out his arm towards the sky and thick darkness descended upon all the land of Egypt three days’^[14]

If you haven’t experienced it, try imagining a darkness so thick and powerful and enveloping that it can be felt. Such a darkness can be terrifying. We have to build the world even out of our greatest terrors as well as out of love.

But before we fall into the trap of binary thinking, let’s also remember that darkness can be nourishing and life-affirming. Every human being, is nurtured in the darkness of the womb. And we need the darkness of sleep in every 24-hour cycle in order to maintain our physical and mental health. Ideally, we should spend at least one third of our lives in this sleep-full darkness. By contrast, light, which is so often used as a metaphor for all that is good can be terrible if it is relentless. Subjecting prisoners to light around-the-clock is a form of torture. If the penultimate plague had been a plague of light for three days and three nights, it would have been equally unbearable.

Language is limited – and can confine our thinking, especially when we use it metaphorically. And yet, language can also lift our spirits, open our hearts to hope, and transform the moment. And so, it was with the spectacular poem that was the highlight of the Inauguration ceremony. Entitled, ‘The Hill we Climb’, it was written and spoken by the first National Youth Poet Laureate, Amanda Gorman, a 22- year-old young black woman from Los Angeles^[15]. The poem is a powerful declaration of hope to the people of the USA, but the opening words speak to us all at this time:

When day comes, we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry, a sea we must wade.

We’ve braved the belly of the beast.

We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace,

and the norms and notions of what “just” is isn’t always justice.

And yet, the dawn is ours before we knew it.

Somehow we do it.

‘The dawn’ is not yet ‘ours’ in Britain – or in most of the world – but yes: ‘Somehow we do it’. As we survey the events of the past week, look ahead to International Holocaust Memorial Day and Tu Bishvat next week, and continue to live through these challenging times, may we acknowledge all our feelings, our feelings of despair and of hope, and resolve to do what we can to generate healing and renewal, for ourselves and our loved ones, our society and our world. And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue

23^rd January 2021 – 10^th Sh’vat 5781

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Luther_King_Jr ↑

2. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/health/coronavirus-uk-death-toll-rate-europe-eu-compared-map-tracked-a9548676.html ↑

3. https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/01/12/us/capitol-mob-timeline.html ↑

4. https://www.nytimes.com/live/2021/01/06/us/georgia-election-results ↑

5. https://eu.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/2021/01/19/biden-leads-memorial-nearly-400-000-americans-killed-covid-19/4215250001/ ↑

6. The 15^th of the Hebrew month of Sh’vat. See: Mishnah Rosh Ha-Shanah 1:1 ↑

7. https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0048969720323305 ↑

8. https://environmentnewyork.org/news/ame/statement-biden-expected-keep-promise-us-will-rejoin-international-paris-agreement ↑

9. The Revd. Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff. ↑

10. Reverend Theodore Parker (1810-1860). President Barack Obama was also fond of this quotation. See: https://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/04/arts/obamas-eulogy-which-found-its-place-in-history.html ↑

11. Published in Hebrew in 2002 and in English in 2004. ↑

12. This revised phrase is included in the new draft Shabbat morning service of the forthcoming new prayer book of Liberal Judaism, Siddur Shirah Chadashah, which I am co-editing with Rabbi Lea Mühlstein of Northwood and Pinner Liberal Synagogue. ↑

13. Exodus 10:1-13:16. ↑

14. Exodus 10:21-22. ↑

15. https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2021/jan/20/amanda-gorman-poem-biden-inauguration-transcript ↑

Exactly ten days ago, on November 4^th, it was the 25^th anniversary of the assassination of Israeli prime minister Yitzhak Rabin by an Israeli right-wing extremist.^[1] Last Shabbat, on the day of the announcement that Joe Biden had become President Elect of the United States, Lord Sacks, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, former Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations, died of cancer at the age of 72.^[2] As we think of these two very different Jewish leaders, we say, Zichronam livrachah – May their memory be for blessing. Meanwhile, today is the 72^nd birthday of HRH Prince Charles, the heir to the British throne; a ceremonial role that yet allows for moral leadership.

So, Yitzhak Rabin and Rabbi Sacks – Joe Biden and Prince Charles. And lurking in the darkness this past week, another leader; the leader of the Third Reich in Germany, whose war against the Jews of Europe that had begun with a developing programme of social, economic and political exclusion in 1933, turned violent on the night of 9^th November 1938.^[3] Meanwhile, another anniversary of the past week, also has leadership at its core; the Armistice at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month 1918 that brought an end to the Great War that had begun in August 1914.

What makes a good leader? I’ve asked this question before. The events and anniversaries of the past ten days have led me to ask the question again.

In this week’s parashah, Chayyei Sarah, we read about the deaths of our first ancestors, Sarah and Abraham. The progenitors of the Jewish people were not leaders. Three generations of one family, B’reishit, the Book of Genesis, relates their journeys from Charan in Mesopotamia to Canaan, and then back to Charan, and then back to Canaan, and finally, to Egypt, where their stories end.

Leadership of the Jewish people began not in Canaan, but rather in Egypt, with the three siblings, Miriam, Aaron and Moses, who between them were responsible for bringing the descendants of the ancestors out of slavery and then leading them on their journey through the wilderness. My summary makes it sound straightforward. Of course, it wasn’t. That journey became a time of wandering that lasted forty years, only ending when a new leader emerged, Joshua, and the descendants of the slaves were ready to enter the land beyond the Jordan. Meanwhile, the three sibling leaders had different styles of leadership, to say the least. Moses, the mediator between the people and the Eternal One, hesitant, prone to outbursts of frustration, and yet a faithful shepherd of his unruly flock. Aaron, the artful fixer, who became a priest, and showed the people the way from a molten calf that he fashioned from their offerings of gold to the service of the Eternal. And what of Miriam? The little written about her in the Torah conveys her courage and chutzpah as she ensured that her baby brother’s mother went into Pharaoh’s palace as his wet-nurse.^[4] Years later, two verses speak of her singing and dancing through the divided Sea of Reeds.^[5] The last story about Miriam reveals her resentment of her baby brother’s pre-eminence.^[6]

Miriam, Aaron and Moses exhibited their leadership very differently. Were they good leaders? To return to my original question: What makes a good leader? It might be easier to reflect on what makes a bad leader. I think that most of us would agree that Donald Trump, President of the United States for the past four years, is a very bad leader. So, perhaps I should begin with a negative approach. What makes a bad leader? Someone who is narcissistic and self-referential; who is utterly convinced of their own rightness, while dealing in lies; who exerts their dominance and asserts non-negotiable absolutes; who is a populist, most at home when they are stirring up the crowd. And yet, there can be no doubt that despite his appalling personal qualities, 48% of the US electorate believe Trump to be a good leader; arguably, the best leader the United States has ever had. They love his drive, his self-belief, his absoluteness, and his wilfulness – and above all, his trumpeting of an America made in their image.

So, I can avoid the question no longer: What makes a good leader? Vision and the determination to translate vision into action. Values and the conviction to practice what they preach. The ability to be decisive and to make difficult decisions. The ability, simply, to lead and bring people with them. Some people would say that this quality requires charisma. The Oxford Dictionary defines charisma as ‘compelling attractiveness or charm that can inspire devotion in others.’^[7] The Cambridge Dictionary explains that charisma is ‘a special power that some people have naturally that makes them able to influence other people and attract their attention and admiration.’^[8] We can all think of a lot of very bad leaders of the past hundred years who had charisma: Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, Idi Amin, to name just four of the most notorious megalomaniacs. The trouble with the qualities that I have identified as indicators of good leadership is that they can also be displayed by bad leaders, autocrats and tyrants. And surely, relying for one’s leadership on having a charismatic personality should always be suspect. For all his flaws, what made Moses a good leader was his humility.

Over the past ten days, I’ve been thinking about Yitzhak Rabin. I remember the moment I learnt that he had been murdered. Director of Programmes for the Reform movement at the time, I was co-leading a Spirituality retreat with Rabbis Lionel Blue and Howard Cooper. It was Saturday night, and the session I was facilitating involved people sharing personal items and explaining what they meant to them. Rabbi Blue left the circle to take a phone call. When he returned, he stood in the doorway, and said simply, ‘Rabin has been shot.’ There was a TV monitor in the room, so I ran to put it on. Immediately, there was the face of Yitzhak Rabin, and the years of his birth and death – 1922-1995 – confirming that he had been killed. We sat in silence in a state of shock.

So, was Yitzhak Rabin a good leader? A former soldier, as Minister of Defence during the first intifada, the Palestinian uprising that began in 1987, he had instructed Israeli soldiers to break the bones of stone-throwing Palestinian children.^[9] But then Rabin became Prime Minister, and recognising the necessity of the hour, became a peacemaker. Another unforgettable moment. I remember sitting in the front room of my sister’s home on 13 September 1993. Heavily pregnant with her second child who was born two weeks later, a toddler crawling around, we watched the TV and witnessed President Bill Clinton facilitating a momentous handshake between Yitzhak Rabin and PLO leader, Yasser Arafat on the White House lawn.^[10] Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated at a peace rally in Tel Aviv’s central square, just as he and those assembled had finished singing a song of peace. A good leader is one who is responsive; who can change their mind when the need arises; who is concerned, first and foremost, to act on behalf of the people they serve. Rabin did not have a charismatic personality. He wasn’t much of an orator and could be taciturn. What makes Rabin memorable is the fact that after decades of conflict, he was willing to overcome his personal reluctance and suspicion and make the effort to reach out his hand to his previously sworn enemy.

A good leader is probably a combination of different qualities that balance one another: confidence and humility, conviction and reflection, determination and caution, decisiveness and hesitation. But it’s not possible to define a good leader simply in terms of their personal qualities. By definition, being a leader implies the presence of a group, a community, a society. Leaders can always be flawed; after all, they are human beings. In my view, in order to exercise good leadership, leaders need to facilitate, enable and empower others. And more than this, they need to be in contexts of active, informed citizenship that is rooted in shared humane values supported by social, economic and political structures that promote equality and equal opportunity and are regulated by just laws. The picture I’m painting of an ideal societal environment makes it look impossible to establish good leadership. We only have to think of President-Elect Joe Biden and the challenge he faces of trying to unite ‘the divided states of America’. He can’t do it. Given that the nation is divided, he doesn’t have the mandate he needs to bring people together. But perhaps, with his goodwill and empathy for the suffering of others born of his own personal tragedies, Joe Biden will be able to manage a successful holding operation – at least, for the four years of his term, by which time, hopefully, a leader capable of enabling the nation to move in a progressive direction will emerge. Perhaps, that person will be Vice President-Elect, Kamala Harris, the first woman to hold that office, and with her black and Asian heritage, the first woman of colour – who, incidentally, is married to a Jew.^[11]

Which brings me to another pertinent issue about leadership. In the long history of Patriarchy, the rule of the ‘fathers’, female leaders have been rare exceptions. I mentioned Miriam. The Torah marginalises her contribution to the leadership of the people. Acknowledging this, the rabbinic sages, promoted the legend of Miriam’s Well that accompanied the people on their journeys through the wilderness until her death.^[12] They also selected the story of the Judge and leader Deborah, as the haftarah, the concluding reading from the Prophets on the Shabbat when the Torah portion, B’shallach, relates the Exodus from Egypt. In our own day, women leaders have been few and far between. Some of them, like Margaret Thatcher^[13] and Indira Gandhi^[14], have been autocratic. And then an exceptional woman comes along, like 1991 Nobel Peace Laureate, Ang San Suu Kyi, the leader of the Burmese National League for Democracy who became the first state counsellor of Myanmar, and she ends up betraying her progressive principles.^[15] Jacinda Adhern, the Prime Minister of New Zealand, appears to be a true exception, not only as a woman leader, but as a leader altogether. Decisive in her approach to the Covid-19 pandemic, Jacinda Adhern has also demonstrated her commitment to enabling the development of an integrated society, in which all communities, including indigenous Maoris on the one hand and recent immigrants on the other, can participate on equal terms.^[16]

In my opening remarks, I mentioned the death last Shabbat of Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. I met Rabbi Sacks at the induction of Rabbi Rader at the Brighton and Hove Hebrew Congregation. I spoke with him briefly at the reception afterwards. I recall that he asked me if my congregation was doing well. I was pleased to tell him that it was. I have asked the question what makes a good leader? Clearly, good leadership depends on the active participation and engagement of the people – whether the setting is a nation, or a city, or a community. Ultimately, good leadership enables communities to lead. As I approach my retirement after twenty years as your rabbi, it is a great source of satisfaction to me that this congregation is vibrant and thriving. Encompassing a rich diversity of individuals, couples and families committed to connecting our Jewish inheritance to our lives today and making a progressive contribution to the wider society, it is abundantly clear that Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue is leading the way for Jewish life in the 21^st-century.

And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue

14^th November 2020 – 27^th Cheshvan 5781

1. http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/november/4/newsid_2514000/2514437.stm ↑

2. https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/jonathan-sacks-death-chief-rabbi-lord-b1680501.html ↑

3. One of the best accounts of the Nazi period and its impact on the Jews of Europe is found in The War Against the Jews, 1933-1945 by Lucy Dawidowicz (Penguin Books, 1975). ↑

4. Exodus 2:1-10. ↑

5. Ex. 15:20-21. ↑

6. Numbers 12:1-16. Miriam’s death related at Num. 20:1. The remaining references to Miriam in the Torah are at Num. 26:58-59 and Deuteronomy 24:8-9. ↑

7. https://www.lexico.com/definition/charisma ↑

8. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/charisma ↑

9. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yitzhak_Rabin#Opposition_Knesset_member_and_Minister_of_Defense ↑

10. http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/september/13/newsid_3053000/3053733.stm ↑

11. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/election-us-2020-53728050 ↑

12. In the Talmud, tractate, Ta’anit, which deals with ‘fasts’, which were frequently related to drought, we read: ‘Israel had a well in the desert in Miriam’s merit’. ↑

13. Prime Minister of the UK, 1979-1990. ↑

14. Prime Minister of India from January 1966 to March 1977, and again from January 1980 until her assassination in October 1984. ↑

15. https://www.theguardian.com/world/aung-san-suu-kyi ↑

16. https://www.theguardian.com/world/jacinda-ardern ↑