I won’t pretend I have ever watched an episode of ‘I’m a celebrity get me out of here’. But it has been impossible to avoid discussions about it over the last fornight, and I’ve certainly been treated to selected clips and a wide range of opinions on the goings on in the jungle via social media. Most controversial has been the entrance into the jungle of Matt Hancock, MP for West Suffolk, former Secretary of State for Health and Social Care steering the country through almost the first year and a half of the Covid 19 Pandemic, before massively falling from grace when caught smooching with his mistress on CCTV cameras. Putting aside any moral judgement, the rules he had implemented quite clearly forbade this. Initially the online discourse was largely one of outrage. Particularly from families who had been unable to accompany loved ones in their last days of life because they were following the rules. His constituents were upset that the man paid to represent them was accepting £400,000 to appear on telly, and, it seemed, to seek redemption.
Now redemption is something that does fascinate me. And over the last few days I have seen the narrative ark for Hancock shift. As people have come to feel, via the TV sets in their living rooms, that they know him more and more as a person, they are softening. The redemption he hoped for may in fact be slowly granted, at least in the minds of those watching him take up the challenge of life in the Jungle.
As with many of the Torah portions in Genesis, Chayyei Sarah offers us plenty of examples of the mess that humans so often create of their lives. Our matriarchs and patriarchs are not presented as examples of perfect morality, and their lives are not clear heroic narratives. They are complicated. They make mistakes, they damage one another. But at the end of the portion this week, shortly after the start of Rebecca and Isaacs story, there is an often missed vignette of redemption. The portion begins with the death of Sarah, and ends with the death of Abraham. Abraham purchases the cave of Machpelah as Sarah’s resting place, and it became the tomb of many of our ancestors, including, at the end of the reading today, Abraham’s. We are told:
His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron son of Zohar the Hittite, facing Mamre (Genesis 25:9)
Huh?
His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him? Ishmael, who the last time we met was banished into the unforgiving desert with his mother Hagar after some kind of incident with Isaac? The torah offers us a tantalizing glimpse into a reunion, which must have been somewhat successful as they found a way to cooperate over their fathers burial. Brothers frequently fall out in Genesis. But they also are able to fix things. Isaac’s sons, Esau and Jacob, could have easily been a story that ended in fratricide. But instead there is a reunion, and even affection shown.
Our ancestors were certainly not paragons of virtue. Neither are any of us (except perhaps Ruby), or our politicians. I don’t want to give Hancock a get out of jail free card, particularly after the grief we held through the pandemic as clergy, but perhaps his nightly stint on the TV at the moment is a helpful moment to pause and reflect on what it means, 6 weeks after Yom Kippur, that when we do get it appallingly wrong, there might, maybe even should, be a chance at redemption.
Judaism presents us with several models of redemption – the ones we heard most of at Yom Kippur involve Teshuvah, Tefillah and Tzedakah – Repentance and return, Prayer and righteous giving. But perhaps the Torah, and I’m a Celebrity, are offering us another model, one that in my interfaith work I have seen take effect on countless occasions.
Let me share an example. In 2002 I was chairing the Youth Council of the International Council of Christians and Jews – which was always a wing of the ICCJ that embraced the trialogue of Muslims, Christians and Jews. I arrived in Amsterdam where we were organizing our annual summer conference, and the Egyptian delegation of 4 had arrived almost as early as I had. Having found them their rooms, we made a plan to grab some sleep, and then meet for a lunch together. Duly refreshed, we trotted off to a local café, and began chatting over our meal. I forget what we talked about, but I already knew 3 of the group from previous events, so I was keen to learn more about the 4th member. Towards the end of the meal, when the ice had been broken and we were all enjoying a good chat and a laugh together, he suddenly discovered I was Jewish. He looked a bit awkward, and his surprise was poorly masked when he asked ‘Really? YOU are Jewish?’. Turned out I was the very first Jew he had ever met – and I wasn’t quite as scary as he had been led to believe I would be. The next day I was chatting to Mohammed, the coordinator of the group, who quietly revealed that my new friend was in fact a member of The Muslim Brotherhood, and Mohammed himself had previously been, and that he was hoping this trip would help move him away from their Islamist ideology. I was told the year after this project had been a success. But if I’m honest, I was shocked that I had sat and had lunch with a member of an Islamist group that Egypt had repeatedly attempted to place political restrictions on because it was so extreme. Had I known, I might not have sat so comfortably with him. Similarly, had he known I was Jewish, he would have resisted our lunch. Instead, we were both given the opportunity to experience each other’s humanity, before we put one another into boxes. When we know the other, it is much harder to hate them.
Ruby, I was curious to discover if Karate has a philosophy of redemption, and I stumbled on an analysis of the TV show sequel to the Karate Kid – Cobra Kai. In Cobra Kai, one of the two Dojo’s is run on the philosophy of Mr Miyagi; that karate should only be used for self-defense – rather than for utter defeat of the other, allowing for redemption, friendship, and correction. It allows the combatants to acknowledge the humanity in their opponent.
I like to think Isaac and Ishmael, at this late reunion, finally had the chance to come to know one another as adults, and maybe to discover their friendship. United in their grief, and perhaps united in their anger at a father who would exile one and sacrifice the other.
Matt Hancock has similarly found a way to show the nation his humanity. He may struggle to convince many, but social media suggests in homes up and down the country it is working! Of course we may wish to consider the role of teshuvah – of repentance – in such a redemption, but maybe that will be next year’s Yom Kippur sermon!
This small Torah vignette of grieving brothers is perhaps a reminder to us all that no relationship is beyond repair, if we can just find the humanity, indeed the human, in the other. Just as the Matriarchs and Patriarchs were imperfect, we too need the promise of redemption in our own lives. May we be blessed with finding it when we have done the work necessary to deserve it. May this be God’s will, venomar, Amen.
