A Tribute to Lord Jakobovits

Chief Rabbi Professor Jonathan Sacks

"A prince of God in our midst." In this striking phrase at the beginning of this week's Torah portion, the Hittites describe the impression made on them by Abraham the Hebrew. I can think of none better to describe Harav Lord Jakobovits. The dignity of his presence, the certainty of his faith, the calm wisdom he carried with him in all he said and did, made him an outstanding figure. He was not free of controversy. Ours is not an age of automatic respect for authority. But he rose above the swirling currents that surrounded him. He was a prince of God in our midst.

I remember our first meeting. He had just been appointed as Chief Rabbi. I was in my first year at university. He had come to Cambridge to address the students. He spoke then with the moral passion that marked him throughout the years. He made no concessions to the mood of the sixties. His was a voice from another age. Another rabbi in America had published a book entitled Faith and Doubt. Rabbi Jakobovits was of a different school. His was a faith without doubt. If Judaism was out of step with the times, that was a problem for the times, not for Judaism. He spoke with the strength that comes from conviction.

Within weeks, the Jewish world was overtaken by crisis. Not before or since in my lifetime has there been a moment to compare to those anxious weeks before the Six Day War. Israel faced attack on all fronts. The mood was electric, and in Britain Rabbi Jakobovits proved himself equal to the challenge. He gave a stirring address to a packed audience at the Albert Hall. He formed a rabbinical cabinet to deal with the emergency - an innovation which still survives. A group of lay leaders emerged who were to focus the energies of the community for the next twenty years. Israel went on to achieve one of the most stunning military successes of modern history. But the war also proved to be one of the great catalysts of Jewish identity. It changed the face of Jewish life. This, too, Lord Jakobovits understood.

He knew that energies had been released that must be harnessed. He understood that the future of Jewish identity lay with Jewish education. We were and are the people of Torah. There is no other coherent vision of Jewish singularity. So while others moved in different directions, he meditated on how to channel the wave of exhilaration into the task of building Jewish schools. Within four years he had designed and launched his greatest contribution to Anglo-Jewry, the Jewish Educational Development Trust. In place of the slogan then driving the campaign for Soviet Jewry, "Let My People Go", he wrote, "Let My People Know." It was the work of a man of vision.

How then shall we remember him? In his installation address he said, "A generation ago, the Jewish problem was the survival of Jews. Today it is the survival of Judaism." He knew that to survive in a free and open society, in an age far removed from the spirit of tradition, Judaism had to speak with the voice of moral courage. It must not be afraid of the intellectual challenges of modernity. Nor must it bend with the winds of passing storms. If Abraham, and Moses, and the prophets were prepared to do battle against the idols of the age, so must we.

That was the faith he took with him throughout his life. He carried it, and it carried him. Even his critics recognised his integrity. He was a leader of rare stature. He taught the power of a voice prepared to say No while all around you are saying Yes. That was and is the Jewish voice in the conversation of mankind. As he put it, Judaism is the echo of the timeless in the midst of time. And as we mourn his loss, we know his influence will remain, challenging us to have the courage to build, in the here-and-now, a community worthy of the presence of God.

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