Brighton & Hove Hebrew Congregation

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Rabbi Herschel Rader

What Should the Rabbi Speak About?

In what seems to be the distant past when we took international travel for granted, last summer actually, Perla and I flew to Israel for a week. Our airlinedidn’t provide in-flight entertainment but it did provide free reading material so I found myself reading the New Statesman. Now I must confess, whether ‘confess’ is the appropriate term probably depends on your point of view, that I had never read the New Statesman before. I doubt if I will again in the future. But there was a headline which immediately caught my eye ‘Men of G-d with Words of Cricket’. 

The writer tells how she went to a friend’s funeral in a beautiful country church.How everything was perfect. How the deceased’s elder son delivered a beautiful eulogy. But then the vicar opted to talk at length about cricket. ‘Apparently’ she writes ‘England had just won some major tournament, which he recounted in detail before urging us all to ‘Rejoice!’ Jude’s passions were horses and dogs. I never once, in all the 50 years I knew her, heard her mention cricket. Obviously the vicar didn’t know Jude but surely he could have found something more appropriate to talk about. How about G-d?’

She continued that ‘there seems to be a rule now that vicars are not allowed to talk about G-d’. She gives examples of the topics she hears them talk about on Thought for the Day on Radio Four and suggests that they do this ‘because they think it makes them seem like ordinary blokes’. Then continues ‘’But they are not ordinary blokes – they are meant to be specialists and their speciality is meant to be G-d…..why should vicars think they can talk about anything they fancy? Air time is precious. Stick to G-d.’

Well; I like cricket! If not for the fact that I don’t want to be accused of trying to ‘seem like an ordinary bloke’ I would say ‘I don’t like cricket; I love it!’ Not only that - I talk about it, as well as football and various other sports. Not so much from the pulpit and, to my recollection, never at a funeral.

I don’t talk about sport or politics or anything else because I want to create a particular impression; I do it because they interest me and they interest the people I’m talking to. The late Rabbi Cyril Harris, Chief Rabbi of South Africa was a noted orator who once told a group of young Rabbis ‘don’t hang your coat on a peg people can’t reach’ meaning; if you base your sermon on something people don’t understand or relate to, you have lost them the moment you start. How many of our congregation, when they hear the words Abraham, Moses or, yes, G-d are transported back to a boring Cheder experience and immediately switch off? Yes, G-d’s representatives should speak about Him, but will people listen? Will they tune in or tune out?

Many years ago, I gave a series of talks on the BBC World Service. They were recorded at BBC Pebble Mill in Birmingham and I was sent detailed instructions about their preparation and presentation. The last paragraph of these instructions read ‘Remember, you are not speaking only to the UK but to a global audience of millions of people around the world. Don’t be afraid to mention       G-d’. Maybe that gives us a clue as to why vicars, in this country,don’t speak about G-d.

So where does that leave me? The Baal Shem Tov taught that ‘whatever a person sees or hears; they should endeavour to take a lesson from it in the service of G-d’. To speak about cricket for one’s own gratification or self-indulgence is probably wrong and maybe an abuse of the pulpit – even if England have won the Cricket World Cup for the first time! But to address a topic or issue which others are able to relate to and use it as a way to teach about divine service is, in my opinion, a Mitzva. 

The story is told of the man who took his son to meet the Lubavitcher Rebbebefore the boy’s Bar Mitzva. The Rebbe asked him what his interests were. He answered that he liked baseball. The Rebbe then asked if he supports a team and if he ever goes to see them play. The boy responded that he went recently but his team were doing badly so he left before the end of the game. On hearing this the Rebbe asked ‘did the players leave too?’ Surprised at the question, the boy responded ‘No’. The Rebbe continued ‘That’s the difference between a spectator and a player. A spectator is not really involved and can leave whenever he wants. A player is totally committed and, no matter how tough the situation, must retain that commitment. When you become Bar Mitzva you go from being a spectator, not obligated to perform Mitzvos, to being a player’. The analogy was one the boy could relate to and understand.

At this crazy time, as we contemplate a counter intuitive Seder in isolation from family and friends, we can still be players. A phone call to a friend or acquaintance to wish them Good Yom Tov can be uplifting. Helping someone with their shopping or prescriptions can be a lifeline. And maybe a Seder in solitude offers a chance to focus on the true meaning of the Seder; the liberty we have always taken for granted …. And to thank G-d for it.