Jonathan Sacks 1948 – 2020

I only met him once. No, it’s not true; I only saw him once, lecturing on something at a Jewish learning centre in Hendon, London. He was great and now he’s no more.

Some deaths are worse than others. They fill you with a feeling of helplessness. “Who can fill this place?” “Who will take over now?” When David Bowie died the world lost an artist that had based a whole career on integrity, intelligence and courage. His passing made us realise just how rare those qualities are in public life.

Like Bowie Rabbi Sacks was one of a kind.

Like Bowie Rabbi Sacks was one of a kind. His influence stretched far outside the world of Jewry. He provided the message of Abraham with intelligence and empathy and connected it to our confused self-centred minds and lives with outmost clarity, sharp analysis and, crucially, humour. For me to listen Rabbi Sacks could be, while truly inspiring, sometimes a sad experience. It made me see just how lost and poor I’d been for most of my life.

Back in 2009 (Do you remember; Obama had just taken office and Gordon Brown was prime minister?) Rabbi Sacks wrote some stuff that is even more relevant today than it was then.

For me to listen Rabbi Sacks could be, while truly inspiring, sometimes a sad experience. It made me see just how lost and poor I’d been for most of my life.

Ladies and gentlemen, here’s a few passages from “Covenant and conversation” a book about Genesis, the bible’s first book:

“With Abraham a new faith is born: the faith of responsibility, in which the divine command and the human act to meet and give birth to a new and blessed order, built on principles of righteousness and justice.

The advent of Abraham was not a small turning point. For almost as long as we have documentary evidence, human beings have attributed their misfortunes to factors other than the human will and the “responsible self.” In large part, they still do today. In the past, men blamed the stars, the fates, the furies, the gods. Today they blame the parents, the environment, their genes, the educational system, the media, the politicians, and when all else fails – the Jews.

Today they blame the parents, the environment, their genes, the educational system, the media, the politicians, and when all else fails – the Jews.

There is a Jewish joke that exposes the desire to escape responsibility better than any philosophical treatise:
For a year, rabbi Cohen has laboured to teach his unruly class the book of Joshua. No one has paid much attention, so he makes the end-of-year exam as easy as possible. He asks Marvin, at the back of the room, “Who destroyed the walls of Jericho?” Marvin replies: “Please sir, it wasn’t me.” Scandalised. he reports this to Marvin’s parents. Instead of apologising, they indignantly reply, “If Marvin says it wasn’t him, then it wasn’t him.” In despair he goes to the president of the congregation and tells him the story. The president listens, opens his drawer, gets out his chequebook, writes in it and says: “Here’s a thousand dollars. Get the walls repaired, and stop complaining.”

Ours is an age of “Please sir, it wasn’t me.” In one famous American court case, the attorney defending two young men who murdered their parents, claimed that they were innocent on the grounds that their parents had been psychologically abusive. In another, the lawyer argued that his client was not to blame for his violence. What he ate made him excitable. This became known as the “junk food defence.” We live in what is called the victim culture.

Nowadays, to win sympathy for your cause, you have to establish your credentials as victim.

Nowadays, to win sympathy for your cause, you have to establish your credentials as victim. This has overwhelming advantages. People empathise with your situation, give you support, and avoid criticising your actions. It has, however, three drawbacks: it is false, it is corrupting, and it is a denial of humanity. A victim is an object, not a subject; a done-to, not a doer. He or she systematically denies responsibility, and those who wish to help only prolong the denial. They become what is known in addiction therapy as co-dependents. By locating the cause of someone’s plight in factors external to the person, the victim culture perpetuates the conditions of victimhood. Instead of helping the prisoner out of prison, it locks him in and throws away the key.

A victim is an object, not a subject; a done-to, not a doer. By locating the cause of someone’s plight in factors external to the person, the victim culture perpetuates the conditions of victimhood. Instead of helping the prisoner out of prison, it locks him in and throws away the key.

Freedom is not a given of the human situation. Like the other distinctive achievements of the spirit – art, literature, music, poetry – it needs training, discipline, apprenticeship, the most demanding routines and the most painstaking attention to detail. No one composed a great novel or symphony without years of preparation. That is why most theories of human behaviour are simply false. They claim that we are either free or not; either we have choice or our behaviour is causally determined. Freedom is not an either / or. It is a process. It begins with dependence and only slowly, gradually, does it become a liberty, the ability to stand back from the pressures and influences upon us and act in response to educated conscience, judgment, wisdom, moral literacy. It is, in short, a journey: Abraham’s journey.

Freedom is not an either / or. It is a process. It begins with dependence and only slowly, gradually, does it become a liberty, the ability to stand back from the pressures and influences upon us and act in response to educated conscience, judgment, wisdom, moral literacy. It is, in short, a journey: Abraham’s journey.

Leave behind all the external influences that turn you into a victim of circumstances beyond your control, and travel inward to the self. It is there – only there – that freedom is born, practised and sustained.”

As I sat listening to him at the learning centre he mentioned his grandchildren and I felt a brief sting inside. Embarrassed I realised it was jealousy.

Rabbi Sachs, I would have loved to be your grandson.