Normally, when we say, “May you live to 120” we have no expectation that this will come to pass. But with Queen Elizabeth II...who knows?...maybe?

Still, if the people had paid more attention to the Bible, the whole institution of the monarchy may never have taken root.

The last of the judges, Samuel, warned that an earthly ruler would not only usurp God’s role, but also impose hardships on the people (I Samuel 8.10): “He will take your sons and muster them for his own forces...He will take your daughters to be cooks and bakers. He will take your field and vineyards and give them to his favourites...He will take a tenth of your produce and give them to his servants... And you will cry out in that day because of the ruler you have chosen”.

For most of the next thousand years in which there were Jewish kings, Samuel was right. In fact, in the biblical era, there were only three national rulers — Saul, David and Solomon — after which the country divided into the Northern Kingdom of Israel and the Southern Kingdom of Judah. Even though the word broigus had not been invented then, the concept was already in existence!

Most of the subsequent rulers were either unpleasant or uninspiring, with only two standing out as meritorious characters: Hezekiah and Josiah. It should be noted there was also one queen who ruled in her own right, Athaliah, but the least said about her the better.

The existence of kings, both Jewish and non-Jews, has influenced our liturgy in various ways. The Alenu, for instance, when it refers to God, does not call him king, but wishes to emphasise that God has a much higher ranking and so is not just a king, nor even a king of kings (an emperor — of which there have been many human ones), but is even more elevated: a king of king of kings: melech malchai ha’m’lachim.

Long pre-dating that is the Prayer for the Royal Family, whose raison d’etre goes back to the time of the Babylonian exile in 586 BC when the Israelites asked Jeremiah what should they do in their strange new land.

His reply was unequivocal: “Pray for the peace of the city in which you live...for in its peace is your peace” (29.7).  It was also very wise, for if wider society is volatile, the minorities within it are the first to be in danger.

His words are later echoed by the first-century rabbi Chanina, in  Pirke Avot/Ethics of the Fathers: “Pray for the welfare of the government, because but for the fear it inspires…men would swallow each other up alive”. (3.2)

Curiously enough, this came as a great surprise to Princess Margaret when she attended Maidenhead Synagogue to mark its Jubilee Year in 1990.

What amazed her was not the sound of Hebrew, nor strange rituals like opening the ark. Instead, she was struck by the fact that we read a prayer for the good health and wise counsel of the Queen.

When I explained that the prayer was not a one-off for her visit but recited every Sabbath in every synagogue in Britain, she was even more intrigued and remarked: “How lovely, they don’t do that for us in church. I’ll tell my sister.”

Whether the message was ever relayed back to Buckingham Palace is unknown, but the prayer reflects the dependent relationship that Jews have had with monarchs over the centuries, when it was important to be well-regarded by them, lest they unleash oppression or expulsion.

It could be argued that this need not apply in the UK today, as some British Jews can trace their roots in Britain further back than the Queen’s own family — Jews resettled here in 1656, long before anyone had heard of the Hanoverians. Nevertheless that prayer was much more fervently said in earlier times, as relationships between English Jews and the Crown were variable, usually fraught and often perilous.

It started benignly at first with Jews being specifically invited to emigrate here by William I — individual Jews had long been present, but not a settled community — so as to help colonise his new kingdom.

It indicates that he considered Jews to be both trustworthy and competent. Their relations with his son, William II, were equally cordial. He even jested in court that he would consider converting to Judaism if the rabbis he knew could out-debate his bishops — much to the horror of the scribe who recorded his heretical remarks.

However, as Jews were newcomers and not part of the feudal hierarchy, their position had to be legalised by charter, and they were declared by Henry I to be “chattels” of the Crown and owned by the king.

This had the advantage of extending royal protection to them, but the disadvantage of being subject to the whims of the monarch. A subsequent declaration by Henry III stated that “no Jew remain in England unless he do the King’s service, and that from the hour of birth every Jew, whether male or female, serves Us in some way”.

This was graphically put into practice when at one stage the entire Jewish community of England was mortgaged to his brother, Richard of Cornwall, in order to raise revenue for Henry.

Edward I went one step further and expelled the Jews from England in 1290, the first time that a country had driven out its entire Jewish population. The result was that, save for a few visitors, there were no Jews here for almost the next 400 years.

Whilst monarchists do not have a high opinion of Oliver Cromwell — the “regicide” — for Jews he is a hero, re-admitting us in 1656 from a mix of religious and financial motives. These stemmed from an instinctive Puritan sympathy with the people of the Hebrew Bible, along with an awareness of their economic usefulness to the New Commonwealth.

It made it all the more remarkable that when Charles II regained the throne, he repealed every single edict from the time of Cromwell save the Navigation Act and the re-admission of Jews, regarding both as crucial to the national interest.

He set the tone of tolerance that has lasted ever since and has made Britain one of the safest countries in the world for Jews to live in.

The first monarch to visit a synagogue was George II, although he did so unintentionally. Whilst on board a ship in the Solent, a violent storm erupted that was so severe he feared for his life. He vowed that, if spared, he would give thanks to God in the first place of worship he reached on landing.

No doubt he assumed it would be a church but when he alighted at Portsmouth harbour he found that a synagogue was the nearest such building. In fulfillment of his vow, he said his prayers there and a royal coat of arms is in the shul to this day to mark the event.

His son’s fate was also intertwined with Jews. When George III went to watch a play at Drury Lane Theatre, a would-be assassin took aim at the king, but his pistol was knocked out of his hand by the person sitting next to him, David Moses Dyte.

Jewish-royal relations took a nervous turn when Edward VIII was about to ascend to the throne, in view of his fraternisation with Nazi leaders in the 1930s. Had he not abdicated to marry Wallis Simpson, he could have influenced trends here and given a royal cloak of respectability to antisemitic elements in British society, such as Oswald Mosley.

Conversely, Elizabeth II has given out many positive messages about Jewish life in Britain. One was in the first year of her reign, when she agreed to become Patron of the then relatively new inter-faith body, the Council of Christians and Jews.

Her decision to have all of her sons circumcised helped maintain a positive attitude in the country at large for many decades, while the fact that she used a mohel  — Dr Jacob Snowman and later his son Leonard — rather than the Court Surgeon also sent out a message.

Her official title may be “Defender of the faith”, referring exclusively to the Church of England, but in reality her reign has seen all faiths flourish.

Jews have been among those benefitting in a way that Samuel never envisaged, but Jeremiah foresaw. Prince Charles may have toyed with the idea of a change of title to “defender of faith” when he comes to the throne, but his mother has already lived it out.

Should you be fortunate enough to see her in person during the Jubilee celebrations, then the rabbis have long had a blessing for meeting a ruler: Baruch ata adonai eloheinu melech ha’olum, sh’natan mich’vodo l’vasaro v’dum. “Blessed are you, ruler of the universe, who has given of his glory to flesh and blood”.

Jonathan Romain is rabbi of Maidenhead Synagogue and author of The Jews of England