archbishop – 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*

We are all members of tribes. Human beings are tribal creatures. We organise into packs and stick together. We identify into groups.

You are probably a member of more than one tribe. You are a member of this synagogue, which binds together hundreds of families into a community. You might also have your workplace, neighbourhood group, union, political party, youth movement, charity association.

Tribes are a core part of life. And it is this week, as we receive the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai, that the Israelites become a tribe. When we left Egypt, we were slaves. We were a mixed multitude escaping persecution. Now, as we stand in the wilderness, we form into something stronger. But what kind of tribe do we become?

In 2008, a group of researchers got together to study different tribal cultures. David Logan and his team looked at hundreds of workplaces and social groupings to see how they operated. While all these groups formed tribes, they found that there could be very divergent kinds.

These researchers divided up the tribes into five kinds, based on their cultures. At the lowest level, Level One, were those tribes that functioned worst and, at the highest level, Level Five, were those that functioned best.

Interestingly, as we look at the stages, it seems like exactly the progression the Israelites go through as they form as a tribe. They begin low on these researchers’ scale and, as the story continues, they advance to higher levels of performance.

At Level One, tribes take the attitude that life is awful. They systematically sever relationships with other tribes and pool with people who think like they do. They are entire groups of angry misanthropes. These are the kinds of people who say “everyone is horrible, so we’ll be horrible, too. People will attack and rob us, so we’re going to get them first.” People who think life sucks will be toxic towards themselves, their own group members, and anyone they consider an outsider.

This is the Israelites at the start of the Exodus narrative. They are crying out for help under tyrannical persecution. They are a mixed multitude of all the lowest classes of Egypt, and have no concept of anything but toil. They don’t even trust Moses when he tries to start setting them free.

At Level Two, tribes say “my life is awful, but there is better stuff out there.” The world might be a good place, but I don’t have access to the goodness in it. These are the kinds of people who will bemoan how persecuted they are. They will complain that other groups have better jobs, or get taken more seriously, or produce better culture, or have more influence. These tribes don’t believe in themselves enough to make positive changes for their own tribe, let alone others.

This is the next stage for the Israelites. They decide that there is a better world out there. Their lives are horrible but, if they left Egypt, they might get a taste of something better. They get up and go, seeking to find a new life as they leave through the Sea of Reeds.

In a Level Three tribe, the mantra is “I’m great, and you’re not.” Here, people are competing for prestige, wealth, and honour. These are groups where everyone wants to compare notes about how much better their kids are doing in school, or how much better their careers are going. The tribe can do good things, but only because it creates cultures where individuals flourish.

That’s the level we reach at the start of this week. Betzalel emerges as a fantastic architect and interior designer, showing off his skills at the Tabernacle. Aaron and his family come forward to be priests. They show how well they can perform religious rituals. But, because they have no defining values, they end up worshipping a golden calf and recreating the same systems they knew in Egypt.

Stage Four is where really impressive tribes begin to emerge. These are groups where people are united by something greater than their individual competences. They turn from small groups into something large and meaningful. They are actually conscious of being a tribe, and united by values. They extend their reach by connecting with other tribes and finding points of value alignment.

Only now, as Moses presents the Ten Commandments, can the Israelites reach Stage Four. They are a conscious tribe, united by shared values. We, these freed slaves, have one God. We reject idols. We honour our families. We hold time sacred. We refuse to engage in murder, theft and lies. We are one people joined by a shared vision of what a just society could be. Anyone who shares that dream can join us.

But that is not the end of the journey. The highest level is rare, and most groups never get there.

The fifth level is when a tribe is united by values that affirm life, each other, and the future. We only see glimpses of this kind of tribal behaviour in Tanach – on those incredible occasions when the prophets extend their message full of joy about who humanity is and hope of what it could be.

The researchers who ranked the groups only offered one example of a tribe that reached such a high level. That was the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa.

This was convened in 1996. With Nelson Mandela’s release from prison and the end of formal apartheid, nobody knew which direction the country would go in. Some anticipated civil war, or resurgent racist nationalism.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu brought together thousands of tribes from all across South Africa. He set up the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which would aim to restorative justice between all people. Victims and perpetrators faced each other, to speak honestly about what had happened during apartheid, and how they could make amends.

He united people on a programme that they could be better than they had been. He coalesced people around a vision that they could be honest with each other and foster a future based on cooperation.

Consider what courage and moral fortitude that must have taken. For decades, black, Indian, and Coloured South Africans had been subjected to segregation, poverty and violence. The anti-apartheid activists had faced imprisonment, state abuse, and separation from their families.

After all that, Tutu took these tribes to a level we almost never see. He created a culture where people believed in themselves, in each other, and joined by a vision of joy and hope.

When Desmond Tutu died just over a month ago, it reminded people of what a giant he had been for religious people worldwide. His theology was one that still intimidates many. He preached true universalism, arguing that God was not a Christian, but belonged to every religion. He advocated sincere justice, never shrinking from social issues. And he believed, despite all he saw, that people were capable of fantastic things.

That was what made his assembly of tribes exceptional. Only those who see the best in people and hold the greatest of values can take people beyond what they know. If we are to defeat the racism, segregation and division that plague us today, we need to muster similar attitudes.

So, which tribe will we Jews be today? Will we sit at the bottom rung, only believing the worst about the world? Will we be like those who complain that we don’t count but others do? Will we create a culture where individuals can flourish but don’t cohere as a whole group? Will we unite around clear values and come together consciously with pride? And can we achieve that rarest of things: a level where we affirm what is wonderful in ourselves and the world, and foster unity around a joyous vision of the future?

The faith that inspired us at Sinai tells us today: we can achieve remarkable things. If we believe in ourselves, we will.

Tag: archbishop

The tribes that broke apartheid