Monthly Archives: March 2025

Board of Deputies News

Our regular report from our Board of Deputies representatives Deborah Cohen, Peter Strauss and Dilys Tausz

Good relationships with the police are so important for the Jewish community. The success that the Board of Deputies is having in this field was demonstrated at our last plenary meeting by the attendance of the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, Sir Mark Rowley. He explained that the police had to operate within the law and especially with regard to the rights to freedom of expression and of assembly. These considerations must inform the way in which the police control pro-Palestinian demonstrations. Nevertheless, the influence of the Board of Deputies means that we do have a voice, and the police made sure that the designated routes for those demonstrations avoided synagogues.

At the same plenary, Penny Mordaunt and Lord John Mann, who head the Commission on Antisemitism, were seeking suggestions from the deputies that could be adopted by government, prosecutors, social media companies, educational institutions, trade unions and other stakeholders to help combat increasing antisemitism. This was a superb opportunity to explain our feelings, and views were heard from a range of deputies including a junior doctor, a university student and those involved in inter-denominational organisations.

All the work of the BoD needs to be funded and we will be approaching you to help contribute financially towards the Commission on Antisemitism, the Bring Them Home Now hostages campaign, the Optimistic Alliance interfaith initiative, the BoD@Work programme supporting Jews in the workplace, and the British Jewish Culture Month.

A hidden presence

Rabbi Gabriel Botnick on the use of words – and a hidden word in the Book of Esther

Have you ever criticized someone not for what they said, but for what they didn’t say? We often see this when someone delivers a less-than-heartfelt apology: ‘I’m sorry you were hurt by what I said.’ Such words do not constitute a true apology. Rather they simply pass off responsibility to the person who was hurt. However, if one were to say, ‘I’m sorry for saying something so hurtful towards you’ – that would indeed be an apology.

In other situations, it might not be as important for someone to be so forthright in their language. For instance, when speaking to a relative after a death, one might consider it insensitive – or even hurtful – to keep reminding them of their loved one’s death. Instead, when speaking with a mourner, we often use more euphemistic language: ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’ Everyone knows exactly what that ‘loss’ is, so there’s no need to use more vivid or painful language.

The use and intentional exclusion of certain words can be both productive and harmful. Our early rabbis understood this dual nature of language and taught it through the metaphor of fire, which can be both productive – by providing warmth and healthy food – and harmful by threatening total destruction. The rabbis taught that the Torah is written as ‘black fire upon white fire’, that is, the black letters of the Torah and the white spaces in between are both seen as fire. It makes sense that the written words of Torah can be seen in that way, capable of inspiring passion and offering sustenance, while holding the potential to burn those who struggle with its teachings. But the rabbis also teach us that sometimes we need to look deeper into the Torah to understand what is not being said explicitly, but rather what can be understood through critical reading. In these instances, the white fire of the Torah can be even more profound than the black fire.

This philosophy stands out most dramatically in the Book of Esther, which we read at our Purim service and celebration, as the Book of Esther is the only book in the Bible that does not contain the name of God. So, if God’s name isn’t in the Book of Esther, why is this text included in the Bible? Well, drawing on the metaphor of black fire on white fire, the rabbis teach us that God actually is present in the text – just in hidden ways. In fact, the name Esther itself means ‘I will hide.’ Of course, this ‘hiding’ could refer to the fact that Esther hides her Jewish identity from her husband, the king, but the rabbis prefer to see the name Esther as an allusion to a verse in Deuteronomy, in which God says, ‘I will hide my face’ from the Israelites at a later time (Deut. 31:18). The Bible explains that Esther’s real name was Hadassah (Esther 2:7), which may not seem so significant at first. But the rabbis say this name alludes to a verse in Isaiah that says, ‘Hadas (myrtle) will rise up and be to God as a name.’ (Isaiah 55:13). In other words, the name Esther may be a placeholder for the name Hadassah, which in turn is a placeholder for the name of God.

Finally, there is yet another way in which the name of God may be hidden in the text of Esther. There is a tradition to write the Megillah so that the first word of almost every column is ‘HaMelech,’ which means ‘the king.’ On the surface, each use of HaMelech clearly refers to King Achashverosh. But on a deeper, mystical level, each HaMelech might be a hidden reference to God, who is also known by this name.

So, is the name of God really absent from the Book of Esther? Technically, yes. But in reality, I don’t think it is. One could easily read the story of Purim and conclude that God played no role in our victory over the wicked Haman. But the rabbis teach us not to be so quick in making this assumption. And more importantly, the rabbis are actually trying to teach us not to be so quick in assuming that God doesn’t play a role in our lives today. Just because we can’t see or hear God doesn’t mean God isn’t there. Rather, God is hidden in our world, and we are all tasked with figuring out how best to reveal God’s presence. Who knows, you might find God in nature, in our traditions, or even in the words and actions of our everyday heroes.
Chag sameach!