Africa – Sim Lev

This week, our godson came to stay. We’re used to being in the house just the two of us, but this half term we had people in and out of our house. Sometimes people came for lunch or dinner. Sometimes they stayed over and sometimes they just came for a cup of tea.

By the end of the week, the house was messier, we were smellier, the carpets had a couple of new stains, and we were so much happier. It was hard, it was exhausting, and it was worth it.

My husband and I love each other, but I get bored quite quickly, and I get lonely just going to the toilet. We love seeing people and we love hosting. One visitor said “you just want your house to be filled with children and music.” That’s it exactly. This week reinforced for me that home is made by people.

The prophets knew how important this was. Abraham and Sarah sat with their tent open on all sides so they could welcome strangers. When three travellers come to meet them in the desert, Sarah leaps to her feet.

She’s doing all she can to make her guests feel welcome, cooking up sweet cakes and getting them water. That’s a real Jewish balaboster right there. The kind of host I aspire to be.

Abraham immediately greets them: “welcome, my lords.”

The rabbis wanted to know: how was it that Abraham knew these strange men were angels? They said: Abraham saw the angel in everyone.

He didn’t know they were messengers from God, come to tell Sarah she would have a child. He just saw God’s light shining from every human being and welcomed it into his home. He didn’t know what he was getting himself in for, but he thought it would be worth it.

This is one of the most sacred Jewish values: haknasat orkhim; welcoming in guests. In the story of Elisha, we see the same thing from the experience of the one being hosted.

Elisha goes to the home of a widow who is absolutely destitute. She’s in so much debt she’s considering selling her children into slavery. Elisha connects her with neighbours, and by some miracle, she finds she now has plenty and can save her sons.

The widow didn’t know Elisha was a miracle-worker. She made herself vulnerable by letting a strange man in her home, then she put her faith in her neighbours, and somehow the experience of community brings about wonders.

But Elisha’s story isn’t done. As a true prophet of God, he doesn’t patronise the poor or show favour to the rich. He treats everyone as if they are part of God’s creation. He goes and stays with a wealthy lady, the Shunamit. She takes a risk. She gives him his own room and board. And then he performs miracles for her too.

Elisha and the people he met understood that home was made by people. It might be chaotic and messy, but it was worth the potential rewards.

As Jews, we often tell our stories of migration. We talk about what it was like for our ancestors, and even for us, to come to this country and take the risk on the people who would host us.

I wonder what it was like, actually, for the English, when they first let us back in. For nearly half a century, Jews hadn’t lived openly in their country. They didn’t know who we were or what we would be like.

But this was the English Revolution, a moment of great upheaval in society. Oliver Cromwell had killed the king, shared out the land, and announced freedom of religion for everyone. They were remaking society and decided it was time to let back in the Jews.

It was a risk, and it turned out to be one worth taking. Well, they liked us so much that, even when they reinstated the monarchy and brought back feudalism, they decided to let us stay. And we liked England so much we made it our home.

And they decided that this whole business of allowing immigration and multiple cultures was working quite well for them. Because only a few decades later they let in fifty thousand Huguenot refugees.

And then the Irish came fleeing famine, and the Germans came fleeing war, and then Russian Jews came fleeing pogroms, and then the British Empire came back to the motherland from India, Pakistan, the Caribbean, and Africa.

Recently, I joined other faith leaders in welcoming unaccompanied child refugees, mostly from Sudan and Eritrea, to Surrey. We got together, as Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Sikh, Hindu and Bahai to show the newcomers how we build a society here on friendliness and mutual respect. For these kids, who had fled from countries torn apart by war, the very concept of tolerance blew their minds!

Now, I take great pride in telling my godson that England is the place people come to be safe because we build our country on freedom. 500 years of tolerance. This country is our home, and we are the people who are making it. This is our home and we filled it with music and kids.

And we still take in strangers, and sometimes that does feel risky, but we know after centuries of experience that it’s a risk worth taking.

This week – would you believe it – Ephraim Mirvis was in the news bemoaning immigration. Can you imagine what a parody it is for a Jew born in South Africa to get on the Jewish News and say “our civilisation is under attack” because of “the influence of other cultures coming.”

This apparently religious Jew, in a beard, tzitzit, and kippah, complained “we’re seeing a definite move away from a Christian-based British identity towards a more general-based identity.”

Mirvis, like Farage and others, would like us to believe we have a choice between safety and immigration. The real choice is, and always has been, between diversity and conformity. It is between a shared society and homogeneity. It’s never been a choice between Jews and Muslims. It’s either all of us or none of us.

Who was to blame for this great divergence from ethnic and religious purity? Well, Mirvis says “some Jewish people who are letting us down.” He means us, of course. The Progressives who won’t tow his nationalist, parochial line for “Jewish unity,” but instead rejoice in our shared society.

Of course, it’s not just Progressive Jews. He also blames the Church. The established religion of state, the Church of England, has become to weak, he complains, and moved away from “Judeo-Christian” values. Well, yes, the Church has moved in a more inclusive direction. It’s chosen a woman as Archbishop and proudly taken up the banner of diversity.

But if the Jewish leaders and the Christian leaders are all betraying Judeo-Christian values, who knows what they even are? If we, who uphold the message of Elisha, and the hospitality of Sarah, don’t know what the “Judeo-Christian” message is, then what is our Scripture even for?

The truth is the traditional Britain Mirvis wants back is a fantasy. It doesn’t exist and it never did. And you can waste your life pining after a daydream, but you will miss out on living in the real world. You’ll miss out on this real Britain.

The real Britain sounds like Scottish bagpipes and Rasta steel pans and Punjabi bhangra and klezmer clarinet and Peckham grime and Vera Lynn and K-Pop and bluegrass and Cotswold Morris dancers beating together their claves.

The real Britain tastes like croissants and Turkish kebab and Birmingham Vindaloo and American cheese burgers and sweet gefilte fish from the deli and callaloo and Sunday roast and battered Mars bars and Irish stout and Swiss cheese.

The real Britain speaks Sylheti, Polish, Creole, Arabic, Urdu, Romanian, Welsh, Gujurati, and it speaks them all in a Geordie accent.

The real Britain wears kente cloth, Cornish tartan, a shalwar kameez, a sheitl, a kermaya, a crucifix necklace, a kirpan, dreadlocks, a flat cap, and an artist’s beret.

And it’s all together. We put them together to make something bigger and better because that’s how we like it. The people came together and made this our home. And we filled it up with kids and music.

And it’s messy and it’s busy and it’s tiring and it’s hard work and it is absolutely worth it.

This is our country and these are our people. This is our home and these are our neighbours. This is our community and we won’t have it any other way.

That’s my Britain, and I think that’s a way of life worth defending.

Shabbat shalom.

A colorful patchwork representation of the Union Jack, incorporating various textile patterns and small blue sailboat illustrations across vibrant sections. — *The New Union Flag, by Gil Mualem-Doron*

Fifteen years ago, the Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie gave a powerful speech, in which she warned about “the danger of the single story.” This, she says, is how you create a single story: “show a people as one thing, as only one thing, over and over again, and that is what they become.”

Because of the single story told about Africa, Westerners knew it only as backwards, poor, and disease-ridden. They did not know how diverse, interesting and resilient Africans were. They did not know that Africans were not, in fact, one people with one story, but billions of people with billions of stories.

She warns her listeners: “The consequence of the single story is this: It robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasises how we are different rather than how we are similar.”

In the book of Joshua, we are presented with a single story about the Israelites and their enemies. In our haftarah, Joshua gathers the tribes of Israel at Shchem and presents his account of the conquest of Canaan. He declares:

You crossed the Jordan and came to Jericho. The citizens of Jericho fought against you, as did also the Amorites, Perizzites, Canaanites, Hittites, Girgashites, Hivites and Jebusites, but I gave them into your hands. I sent the hornet ahead of you, which drove them out before you—also the two Amorite kings. You did not do it with your own sword and bow. So I gave you a land on which you did not toil and cities you did not build; and you live in them and eat from vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant.

In Joshua’s single story, the Israelites are a nation united at war. They all came over at once and went to conquer the land of Canaan. Their enemies were diverse in name but unified in mission. In the list of warring tribes that came up against the Israelites, there is no distinction. Every one of them fought the Israelites. Every one of them lost. By God’s miraculous deeds, the Israelites took over the entire country, and now they have a whole land, ready-made, for them to inhabit.

But wait. There is a flaw with this single story. Just as Joshua decrees that the entirety of these foreign nations has been wiped out, he also warns the Israelites not to mix with them.

All of these other tribes have been completely driven out of the land of Israel; all of them have been vanquished; now the only people left are the Israelites.

But even though the Israelites are the only people remaining, you must not marry the others; or get involved in their cultural practices; or go to their shrines with them and worship their gods.

The Jewish bible scholar, Rachel Havrelock, has written a book looking at why this contradiction is so stark. She suggests that, while the Book of Joshua would love to tell a single story of unanimous military victory, it cannot get away from what the people see with their own eyes.

In reality, all the nations that the Israelites “drove out” are still there. The Israelites are still meeting them, marrying them, striking deals with them, and fraternising with them.

Joshua is putting together the war story as a national myth to bring the people together. In his story, the Israelites must be one people and so must all their enemies. Victory must be total and war must be the only way.

In fact, Havrelock finds that there are lots of contradictions in the book of Joshua. It says that the nation was united in war, while also describing all the internal tribal disagreements and all the rebellions against Joshua.

It says that they took over the whole land, but when it lists places, you can clearly see that plenty of the space is contested, and that the borders are shifting all the time. It says they took over Jerusalem, and also says that it remains a divided city to this day.

So what is the reality? Archaeological digs suggest it is very unlikely that the conquest of Canaan ever happened in the way the Book of Joshua describes. The land was not vanquished in one lifetime by a united army. Instead, more likely, the Israelites gradually merged with, struck deals with, and collaborated with, lots of disparate tribes.

They were never really an ethnically homogenous group. They were never really a disciplined military. They were a group of people who gathered together other groups of people over many centuries to unite around a story. Ancient Israel was the product of cooperation and collaboration.

Our Torah takes all the different stories of lots of different tribes and combines them into a single narrative. That is why the Torah reads more like a library of hundreds of folktales than a single spiel.

But a government at war needs a single story. It needs to tell the story that there is only one nation, which has no internal division. It needs to tell the story that there is only one enemy, and that the whole of the enemy is a murderous, barbarous bloc. It needs to insist that the enemy must be destroyed in its entirety. It needs to tell the story that war is the only way.

Reality, however, rarely lives up to the single story that war propaganda would like us to believe.

Over the last few months, we have been bombarded with a single story of war. We are all at war. Not only Israel, but the whole Jewish people. We are all at war until every hostage is freed from Gaza. We are all at war until Hamas is destroyed. We are all at war and there is no other way.

But hidden underneath that story are other stories. Suppressed stories. Stories that suggest Israel may not be united in war.

There is the single story that Gaza must be bombed to release the remaining hostages.

There is another story. Avihai Brodutch was with his family on Kibbutz Kfar Aza on October 7th. He survived. His wife, Hagar, was taken hostage, along with their three children, aged 10, 8 and 4. His whole family and his neighbours were taken hostage.

Only a week later, at 3am, Avihai took a plastic chair and his family dog, and went to launch a one-man protest outside the Israeli military offices. He insisted that blood was on Bibi’s hands for refusing to negotiate. He said that Netanyahu was treating his family as collateral damage in his war. He initiated a rallying cry: “prisoner exchange.”

This has become a demand of Israeli civil society. They will swap Palestinian prisoners for the Israeli hostages. This was achieved, when 240 Palestinian prisoners were swapped in return for 80 Israelis and 30 non-Israelis captive in Gaza.

There are still over 100 hostages in Gaza. There are still around 4,000 Palestinian political prisoners in Israeli jails. Around 1,000 are detained indefinitely without charge. Around 160 are children.

It is simply the right thing that Hamas should release the hostages. It is also simply the right thing that Netanyahu should release the Palestinian prisoners. If they did agree, everyone would be able to return safely to their families. Doesn’t that sound more worth fighting for than war?

There is a single story, promoted by Netanyahu, that Israel must fight until it has destroyed Hamas.

There is another story. Maoz Inon’s parents were both murdered by Hamas on October 7th. As soon as he had finished sitting shiva, he took up his call for peace. All he wanted was an end to the war.

Speaking to American news this week, he said: “A military invasion into Gaza will just make things worse, will just keep this cycle of blood, the cycle of death, the cycle of violence that’s been going for a century.”

His call for peace is echoed by other families of those who lost loved ones on October 7th. They have lobbied, produced videos, and sent letters to Netanyahu, begging to be heard.

Some are desperate for the government to recognise that further death is not what they want. Now, as Netanyahu has killed more than 20,000 Palestinians, their call has still not been heard.

And after all those dead, is Hamas any closer to being destroyed? Of course not. All this bombing does is ensure that a new generation of Palestinians trapped in Gaza will grow up to hate Israel.

This war is how you get more terrorists. It’s how you ensure that war never ends. Wouldn’t it be better to fight for a ceasefire than to fight for a war?

There is a single story that the nation is united in war.

There is another story. This week, 18-year-old Tal Mitnik was sent to military prison in Israel for refusing to fight in the war. Although this news has barely made it into English-language media, many Israelis have expressed their support.

Writing to Haaretz, one refusenik wrote: “I was inside. We were so brainwashed there. I refused and I’m not the only one. I have a family and this is not a war with a clear purpose. […] My children will have a father and I hope yours will too.” Another parent wrote: “My son is also refusing. I will not sacrifice him for Bibi.”

There is another story: that this is Netanyahu’s war, not ours.

There is another story: that war is not the answer.

There is another story: that every captive must go free.

There is another story: that all bombs and rockets must end.

There is another story: that we will not give licence to any more bloodshed.

There is a story that the nation is at war. In times of war, the government must tell that as the only story, to blot out alternative stories, to ensure that war is the only way.

But there are other stories. And, if we tell those other stories, there will be other ways.

Shabbat shalom.

Tag: Africa

The nation is (not) at war