New rabbis all share one thing in common, however many years they may have spent training for their chosen vocation. Unsure of themselves, they inevitably take several missteps on their way to learning the ropes, complexities and predicaments of rabbinic life.

In April 2010, after more than a decade of intensive study and preparation, I assumed my first rabbinic position. Fortunately, however, I did not have to take those first steps alone. It just so happened that a group of six or seven of us started out on our careers at around the same time. We took those tentative first steps together, celebrating each other’s successes, commiserating with each other when we experienced difficult times and yes, laughing about some of the absurdities of communal life.

But an unexpected additional factor also developed during those early years that bonded us together as a group. A shared privilege which we will all forever cherish, and which now seems more meaningful than ever.

In the autumn of 2011, we received an email from the Office of the Chief Rabbi inviting us to a series of ‘lunch and learns’ with Rabbi Lord Sacks at his house in Hamilton Terrace. Over the next two years, until his retirement as Chief Rabbi in 2013, we were privileged to sit around the table with him during these regular meetings. We learnt from him, sought his guidance and advice and discussed with him the key issues of the day. Thus far, we were no different from many others worldwide.

But as young rabbis we learnt something else from those meetings, a priceless message about rabbinic leadership itself. We began our rabbinic careers at the very end of Rabbi Sacks’ Chief Rabbinate. He had been Chief Rabbi by then for over two decades, had been awarded a life peerage and received numerous other global accolades. He certainly could have been forgiven for taking the view that the next crop of young British rabbis would be his successor’s problem.

Yet, he acted in precisely the opposite way. He directly sought to develop a relationship with us and to mentor us, both as a group and as individuals. During those two brief years, he built the foundations of a relationship which we could (and would) continue to gain from long after he had formally retired as Chief Rabbi. Why?

Because, perhaps more than anything else, Rabbi Sacks cared. He cared about the future of the Jewish community, the future of Britain and the future of the world. But most of all, he cared about people, as people. He cared about us, our futures and how he could help us become the best possible rabbinic leaders, the best possible versions of ourselves.

And, perhaps uniquely for a leader at such a late stage of his career, there was never a hint of a suggestion that we should try to become mini versions of himself. We all came from diverse backgrounds and had different skills, talents and outlooks on life. All he cared about was that we should succeed in our chosen path — and that our communities should in turn succeed as a result.

Rabbi Sacks will be remembered by so many people for so many things. Beautiful tributes have spoken of his genius, his eloquence, his ability to communicate complex ideas in a way that would make them seem both self-evident and life-transforming at the same time. But I will remember him for the way in which he cared about me as a young rabbi and how he taught me, by example, how a rabbi should care for others.

Once, he shared with the rabbinate a list of his own essential rules for preparing a sermon. They read as a description of the energy and effort we knew that he himself would put into every speech he would give. But one of those rules stands out, because it summarises the legacy he leaves behind for the rabbinic world in particular. “The key to being a great spiritual leader”, he taught us, “is not telling people what they are not; it is telling people what they could be”.

Rabbi Sacks’ passing leaves a gaping void in the rabbinic world. He will be remembered as a spiritual leader of immense depth who demonstrated the true impact rabbis can have and the profound positive difference they can make in the lives of others. But above all, I will remember him as a person who truly, deeply, cared about people. Ultimately, there is no greater rabbinic legacy one could wish for.

Yoni Birnbaum is rabbi of of Kehillas Toras Chaim, Hendon