As Chief Rabbi I am usually called on to address Jewish audiences. But there are times when the audience is wider and the message more universal in scope. The chapters gathered here are of the second kind. They form a composite picture of what I have tried to say, these past few years, as a Jew in a society of people of many faiths and some of none.

At first I found this a difficult experience. It is so easy to speak with people who share your faith, and so hard to communicate with those who don’t. But slowly I discovered that talking across the fences that divide us is important. Not only because it helps us understand each other and our differences, but also because it helps us understand ourselves. We find out what we share and also what we uniquely own.

I also made a discovery. With the transition of Britain from a strong common culture to a more fragmented, segmented and pluralised one, we suddenly find that we are all members of a minority group, practising Christians no less than practising Jews. This is not a bad thing, because it means that paradoxically as we become more diverse we discover more areas of common experience. The problems of Christians, Jews, Muslims, Sikhs, Hindus and others in trying to preserve their values and hand them on to their children become more, not less, alike. In the contemporary situation, to be particular is to be universal and to be a minority is part of the experience of the majority.

Under these circumstances, as we try to renew our own families, communities and faiths, we find that we are not alone. People quite unlike us face the same difficulties and derive strength from sharing experience and reflection. This book, then, is a Jewish contribution to a conversation in which many voices deserve to be heard. Though some of its sections are more specifically Jewish than others, all ultimately turn on the question of whether, in a complex, rapidly changing and ever more interdependent world we can construct a humane social order which honours human dignity and difference, one in which we can be both true to ourselves and a blessing to others. In the confusing state of post-industrial societies in the post–Cold War situation, can we give those who come after us a coherent map of hope?

I have structured this book in four sections. In the first, “The Moral Covenant,” I touch on the broadest issues of morality, the family and the importance of communities in the life of society. In the second, “Living Together,” I ask how we can co-exist while remaining faithful to our distinctive identities and traditions. In the third, “Holy Days,” I describe how one faith, Judaism, lives out its beliefs. In the fourth, “Jewish Ethics and Spirituality,” I sketch some of Judaism’s leading themes.

Most chapters had their origins in talks, articles or broadcasts. Often, though, I have redrafted them and in some cases I have written a section especially for this book. With a few indicated exceptions, they have not been published before. No collection of this kind can be seamless, but I hope that it carries a consistency of voice and belief.

In bringing this book to publication I owe many thanks. Mr. Colin Shindler, former editor of The Jewish Quarterly, first persuaded me that it was worth doing. Working with the publishers, Darton, Longman and Todd, and their editor Morag Reeve, has been a rare and special pleasure. I am particularly honoured that Mr. Clifford Longley, one of the country’s most distinguished religious voices and a journalist from whose columns I never fail to learn, has written an introduction.

As I prepared the text I was conscious of the thanks I and many others owe to those who sustain the traditions of this country’s religious tolerance. As Britons we carry the virtue of self-criticism to a fault, often forgetting the remarkable record of British openness and generosity towards different ethnic and religious groups. Jews know only too well how unusual this is in world history, and how important. I am grateful for the warm relationship I have been privileged to share with the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. George Carey, the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster, Basil Hume, and the leaders of many other faith groups. The BBC’s Religious Broadcasting department has played a significant role in shaping this climate of tolerance, and I recall with gratitude the times I have spent with Ernest Rea, David Craig, Beverley McAinsh, John Kirby, Norman Ivison and others, coming to understand how communicating faith across boundaries is one of broadcasting’s most sacred tasks. Within the Jewish community, the United Synagogue and its President, Mr. Seymour Saideman, have shown how tolerance can be combined with firm religious principle. Sir Sigmund Sternberg has set a striking example of leadership in interfaith relationships.

Above all my thanks are due to my wife Elaine and our children, Joshua, Dina and Gila, whose patience and support have meant everything to me. It is not easy being a religious leader – the great Jewish scholar Jacob Emden used to say in thanksgiving, “Blessed are You, O Lord…who has not made me a rabbi” – and without their faith, mine surely would have had its moments of doubt. The Jewish sages believed that peace in the home brings peace to the world. Certainly it has brought peace and blessing to me.

Jonathan Sacks