John was not a religious man. He grew up in a home where the basics of kashrut, Friday evenings with the family and synagogue attendance on High Holy Days were the norm, but he drifted away from regular observance of these traditions. Kiddush wine was replaced by Cabernet Sauvignon, and not only on Shabbat, and his participation in the Jewish community was limited to the life-circle milestones of barmitzvahs, weddings and funerals.

John’s life was marked by dualities. Twice married, twice divorced, twice financially successful (with a minor hiccup in between), and twice blessed with children; a daughter who was always the apple of his eye, and a son whose different lifestyle he eventually became able to accept and to support.

Some time ago John moved from London to the English countryside, and later he joined a synagogue in his neighborhood. He made much of the fact that he never actually attended services, and he claimed that his only purpose was social. Nevertheless one might have seen this as the beginnings of a wistful desire to belong to something, and not just to a golf club.

John came to Israel a few times in recent years to participate in happy events. On one such occasion, I took him to Jerusalem and to the Western Wall plaza, stuck a yarmulke on his head, and led him to stand by the ancient stones. He wasn’t sure what he should do, so I told him to wish for whatever he wanted and then to add the six little words that every observant Jew says every morning and which are the last words to be said before a Jew eventually leaves this world – the first sentence of the She’ma. This he did, and as we left the place he turned to me and said “I’m back.”

On another occasion, I took him to see a little memorial plaque that I had set up in a village synagogue in memory of my departed parents. He was touched, and asked if he could contribute something to the charitable work of the local rabbi. He then participated in the Passover Seder at my home. He sat there enthralled, joining in as best he could, aided by memories of the event which he had attended year after year as a child. At the end, his eyes were moist as he expressed his thanks for being allowed to feel part of a warm family, and he instantly accepted the invitation to join us again next year and every year.

So after a very long hiatus, John managed to hit all the buttons which are the essentials of the Jewish religion – penitence, prayer and charity - and without even being conscious of it. And from that point on, everything seemed to fall into place for John. He bought a new house and acquired a little dog, both of which he adored. His daughter became engaged to be married, and John was over the moon. His son announced that in the coming months he would present him with his first grandchild, and John began to stock up with champagne and cigars.

Then John died. Suddenly, and without any warning whatsoever. Just when everything seemed to be so perfect, he was gone. Before the wedding, and before the grandchild.

There may be those who will look for meaning in this. The ancient Greeks believed that the gods would punish mortals for the sin of ‘hubris’ – pride. Others point to the ‘evil eye’ always looking out for an abundance of happiness. Some may claim a divine purpose for whatever reason they choose to invoke. Personally, I do not look for meaning – life begins and life ends. A random sperm meets with an expectant ovum, and a small blood clot either stops oxygen reaching the brain or it doesn’t.

We can all do more to take care of ourselves and to live healthy, useful and value-full lives.

However, chance is unpredictable and probably unavoidable. And just as good things happen to bad people, so the opposite is certainly true. There was no accounting in the early 1940s for the chance of being born in the Warsaw ghetto or in London’s East End equivalent, and accidents do not tend to discriminate between great Torah scholars and religious sceptics.

What I do think is that John was a good person and a good Jew, and if there are rewards in store for us when we eventually pass on, then John will have received his share.

John was my younger brother.