Chas Newkey-Burden's Blog

A wizened, wiry old man

I love this, from Andrew Harvey’s introduction to the great Daniel Matt’s book Zohar: Annotated & Explained:

‘Twenty years ago in Jerusalem – momentarily at peace and flowering in a fragrant and golden spring – I made a friend whose wisdom has sweetened my life; I shall call him “Ezekiel”, after one of the wild ecstatic prophets he loved most. He was a wizened, nut-brown, wiry old man in his early eighties with hair so energetic it seemed to dance in white flames on his head. Although his life had seen every kind of suffering and violence (he had been in a concentration camp and fought in the early days for the establishment of the Jewish state before losing faith in any kind of nationalism), just to be in his presence was to be intoxicated by his passion for God, his unique amalgam of fervor, dry wit and long rich quotations in several languages, and a laugh so wild and loud it sounded, his wife used to say, “like one of the trumpets of the seraphim”. We met through mutual friends (who were also friends of the great Scholem, master of modern Jewish mystical studies). They had told me before introducing me, “Now you are ready to meet a real no-holds-barred kabbalist.”

‘And that is what Ezekiel proved to be.’

Indeed it was, as you’ll discover if you read the introduction in full.

What a guy. The world needs Ezekiels more than ever right now…

Like an old Jewish black man

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Amy Winehouse died three years ago today.

Here’s a passage from an article I wrote for the Jewish Chronicle that week:

Although she was proud to have grown up in a Jewish household in north London, she was never a particularly religious person. She said she believed in fate, and karma, but added: “I don’t think there’s a higher power, necessarily”.

As a child, she giggled as she dressed up at Purim. She did not enjoy cheder classes and often begged her father Mitch to let her off. However, as an adult she could recite the odd line of Hebrew and Yiddish. She often went to synagogue on Yom Kippur and would attend the Seder at Pesach.

Amy was never one to mince her words, as a journalist discovered when she asked what it was like growing up in a Jewish family. “Yes,” sighed Amy, “I’m a dirty little Jew.” In one of the last interviews she gave, she compared her dress-sense to that of “an old Jewish black man”. She wore a Magen David around her neck and was proud to be Jewish.

Read the rest of the article here. Discover more about my Amy Winehouse biography here.

A wizened, wiry old man

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I love this, from Andrew Harvey’s introduction to the great Daniel Matt’s book Zohar: Annotated & Explained:

‘Twenty years ago in Jerusalem – momentarily at peace and flowering in a fragrant and golden spring – I made a friend whose wisdom has sweetened my life; I shall call him “Ezekiel”, after one of the wild ecstatic prophets he loved most. He was a wizened, nut-brown, wiry old man in his early eighties with hair so energetic it seemed to dance in white flames on his head. Although his life had seen every kind of suffering and violence (he had been in a concentration camp and fought in the early days for the establishment of the Jewish state before losing faith in any kind of nationalism), just to be in his presence was to be intoxicated by his passion for God, his unique amalgam of fervor, dry wit and long rich quotations in several languages, and a laugh so wild and loud it sounded, his wife used to say, “like one of the trumpets of the seraphim”. We met through mutual friends (who were also friends of the great Scholem, master of modern Jewish mystical studies). They had told me before introducing me, “Now you are ready to meet a real no-holds-barred kabbalist.”

‘And that is what Ezekiel proved to be.’

Indeed it was, as you’ll discover if you read the introduction in full. What a guy. The world needs Ezekiels more than ever right now.

My spiritual accord(ion)

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‘There is one who sings the song of his soul, discovering in his soul everything – utter spiritual fulfilment.’ (Abraham Isaac Kook, Orot ha-Qodesh.)

I found this accordion in a charity shop on the high street in Eton. I’ve wanted an accordion since I was 16 years of age. As this one was going for absolute peanuts, I snapped it up.

It’s a complicated instrument to play but I’ve learned my first chord and, frankly, it already rocks just as an ornament. Much learning and fulfilment to come.

Marc his words…

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Over the past three weeks I’ve read more nonsense about Israel and the Palestinians than ever before.

The recent fighting has conjured toe-curling credulity from many on the pro-Israel ‘side’, groundless hatred from much of the ‘other side’ and oblivious condescension among too many in the ‘middle’.

But I’ve also read some wonderful writing, including this post from Marc Goldberg. I can’t remember the last time I so enjoyed reading a piece about Israel.

I don’t agree with every syllable of Marc’s article but I love it because it’s written from the heart. I also enjoy it because its so low on defensiveness, that ugly quality that pollutes so much discussion of Israel and the Palestinians, mine included all too often.

But I noticed long ago that, broadly speaking, Israelis discuss Israel’s good and bad points much more openly and honestly than Israel supporters around the world. Marc’s writing is often emblematic of this.

As for me, I’ve spent a lovely few days showing my favourite friend from Israel around some of English towns. We had a fun day and night out in Windsor, then spent a day in beautiful Bath yesterday.

She brought me some presents from Israel, one of which was particularly meaningful. I’ll write about it later this week.

Mertesacker Emptiness

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I watch the World Cup purely through Arsenal eyes. For me, club football trumps international football every time.

So I loved watching Germany, whose squad contains my three favourite Arsenal players Per Mertesacker, Mesut Ozil and Lukas Podolski, tear apart Brazil last night.

And I absolutely love this video, made by writer Simon Price, in which he replaces the lyrics to the Manic Street Preachers song Motorcycle Emptiness with the names of German footballers, all leading to the chorus ‘Mertesacker Emptiness’. It’s a stroke of genius.

I tipped Germany from the start to win the World Cup, and this video is a fine soundtrack to their march to the final.

Have you been watching the World Cup? Who has been your star of the tournament thus far?

The vast ocean

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Now you, my child, strive to see the supernal light, for I have brought you into a vast ocean. Be careful! Keep your soul from gazing and your mind from conceiving, lest you drown. Strive to see, yet escape drowning. Your soul will see the divine light – actually cleave to it – while dwelling in her palace.

(Isaac of Akko)

Wishing everyone a peaceful weekend.

If you don’t like Facebook, why don’t you just leave?

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‘As a trigger of mass complaint, Facebook has become my generation’s television licence – the focal point for relentless resentment, the favoured terrain for the self-righteous. If it makes you that angry, why don’t you just leave?’

I’ve written an article for The Telegraph about Facebook. Why not pop over and give it a read?

Gerry and the fairy tale

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I was upset, but also strangely relieved, when I heard that Gerry Conlon, one of the Guildford Four, died yesterday.

The Guildford Four were wrongly convicted of two IRA pub bombings in Britain in 1974. They were not the only people framed for IRA activities that year. In total, 18 people were wrongly sent to prison by the British legal system, including the Birmingham Six.

In four separate cases, the British police plucked innocent Irish people off the streets, beat them up in cells, lied about them in court and watched as they were jailed for life. Among them were Gerry’s father, who died in prison.

The wrong people went to jail but these were not miscarriages of justice. That term evokes an unfortunate mistake. No, these were not miscarriages but abortions – deliberately carried out by the state.

It was only 15 years later when, thanks to a tireless campaign I was proud to be a small part of, it became too embarrassing for the legal system to keep them in jail, that the Guildford Four were finally released with their names cleared.

I was outside the Old Bailey with other campaigners and relatives when he walked free. I’ll always remember how perfect his first words were.

Within years, the other framed Irish prisoners were also cleared, but it was too late for Gerry’s father.

I met Gerry once, at a party arranged by his family so he could meet the people who had campaigned for him. It wasn’t the most profound of conversations. I was 17, tipsy and overwhelmed. He was recently released from prison and also overwhelmed. Yet his big, sad, warm eyes spoke volumes.

A movie was made about Gerry Conlon’s life, starring Daniel Day-Lewis. It’s a fine work but it should not fool us into thinking that Gerry’s release was a happy, Hollywood ending.

The British establishment, which had stolen 15 years of Gerry’s life and effectively murdered his father, did nothing real to ease his return to the outside world.

Instead, he was left to struggle. He had never thought of killing himself during his 15 years of wrongful incarceration, but he began to regularly think of suicide once he was free, as he struggled with depression and anxiety, and spiralled into alcohol and drug addiction.

He died from cancer yesterday at the age of 60. There is, I suppose, a comfort in that he is now at rest, and with his father again, which is where my strange sense of relief came from yesterday.

Yet none of this needed to happen and there are still systematic injustices meted out by the police and courts, particularly against the Muslim community. Meanwhile, fooled by scaremongers and profiteers of doom, some people call not for more legal safeguards but less.

Gerry passed away yesterday, but the fairy tale of British justice died many years ago.

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The wonders of Wizo

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On Tuesday, I spoke at the Reading branch of Wizo. Then, yesterday lunchtime I spoke at the Wizo Rebecca Sieff Day at St Johns Wood Synagogue.

I greatly enjoyed visiting the Wizo projects in Israel earlier this year, and I feel there’s something very special about the women of Wizo.

Their indomitable spirit and love of the land echo the wondrous female pioneers who rolled up their sleeves and built the modern state of Israel.

Long may they thrive.

Photos by the lovely and talented Sharna Kinsley.