I have just dropped my youngest, Rafael, at university. There is something deeply nostalgic about acknowledging an end of an era: no more rushed breakfasts before school, or dropping off at the tube, because there is now no time for walking; no more worrying about school night dinners. Of course I was that mother. Change, as I spoke about a great deal over Rosh Hashanah, is both hard and good, as we all know. I spent 24 hours in Glasgow and it didn’t rain once, which is a feat for the city, certainly whenever I have visited it.
These ten days before Yom Kippur are for deep reflection whenever you get the chance – and of course for tashlich, that beautiful ritual of letting go of past baggage by symbolically throwing crumbs or stones into water. The ritual is amazingly powerful. I always recommend it.
Meanwhile, the last Musar midday of our summer study was Courage. I remember last Yom Kippur when we were made aware of the attack on Heaton Park synagogue. I imagine there is deep fear for this year and I understand it. Please know how vigilant our plans are and even more so as we welcome Matt Jukes, Deputy Commissioner for the Met, to the morning service. Times are worrying, I understand that, and for some, it’s a leap of courage to choose to gather together. I am grateful to you.
The Torah portion for Shabbat Shuvah also marks an ending: the life of Moses. Sent up to Mount Nebo to die, he remained vigorous to his final day. At one hundred and twenty years old, “his eyes were undimmed and his strength unabated,” (Deut. 34:7). Rabbi Jonathan Sacks noted that the first phrase explains the second. Why did Moses keep his strength? Because his eyes were undimmed, meaning he never lost the ideals of his youth. This idea resonates: we can carry our hopes, dreams, and desires forward, even as we grow older and change.
There will always be endings but there are ways to make sense of them. I intend to learn from this too.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Rosh Hashanah |
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You know this season is a rabbi’s most intense – rather like January for accountants – and yet I absolutely love the Tishri festivals. It never stops being a privilege to lead them.
As we welcome Rosh Hashanah tonight, I am so grateful for the ability to change and to be changed. As Bertolt Brecht’s poem reminds us, “Everything changes. You can begin anew with your very last breath.” The promise of renewal that our New Year offers is so profoundly humane and enabling — an acknowledgement of us in all our human frailty. So the invitation to choose life resonates powerfully, as does our deepest hope, which we will repeat in prayer again and again: to be written in the Book of Life, Sefer Ha-Chayim. Newness can be daunting but it is also profoundly reassuring. No matter how this past year has been, we get to reset, renew and restart our lives afresh. This can be both real and metaphorical. May we go into the New Year at peace with each other (as much as is possible), and certainly at peace with ourselves. May we see blessings from the work of our hands and find kindness, grace and collaboration in our shared endeavours and hopes. May the New Year waiting for us be a good one and may we bring goodness to it. As you consider the services ahead and the sermon and shiur themes, I wanted to give you a loose anticipation of what is to come. Erev Rosh Hashanah: Anniversaries and Being in the Room Shanah Tovah, |
This Week |
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There has been quite a lot of news this week. You will recall I have experienced settler violence. On a trip to Israel with fellow rabbis in March 2025, we were attacked and then rammed by a settler in a large truck as we were being shown the destroyed Palestinian village of Zanuta. We met Awdah Hathleen, one of the leaders of the community, who in 2025 was shot dead by Israeli settler Yinon Levi. Awdah’s brother Khalil is now leader of the Council of Umm Al-Khair, he works closely with many rabbis in Israel. There is good work happening. There have been thoughtful, and principled responses to Ed Miliband’s statement yesterday from key bodies as well as words from Progressive and Masorti rabbis talking to journalists. I know emotions are high and fear is close at ha nd – and many have expressed such worry. I pray that bad actors will not use any of this for deeper division. We want to know our government will be tough on all antisemitism. We will welcome the Deputy Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, Matt Jukes, on Yom Kippur morning as he makes his solidarity clear. These new policies do not target Israel as a whole; they target particular settlements. Two years ago, Rabbi Gilad Kariv MK begged British Rabbis and Jews to be upstanders, not bystanders, on this very issue. You can read his responses to the news this week below. Many Jews have called out Chillul HaShem, a violation of God’s name of the highest order, in the West Bank. It’s a terrible situation for Palestinians, Israelis and Jews everywhere. Here are several responses in one place: Masorti and Progressive Rabbis Co-leads of Progressive Judaism Shanah Tovah, |
As I write this I learned Gloria Steinem just died. She was a phenomenal woman who did so much as a feminist to make things better. One of her most lasting pieces of advice was “Be in the room.” When the world makes so much available online, nothing compares — so she explained — to gathering in real time. In a room together. I love this, and have seen the sparks that fly when we do gather in person. Nothing beats it. And with Rosh Hashanah around the corner I love this pearl of wisdom from her. Let’s be in the room together.
Shabbat Netzavim is this week:
כִּ֚י הַמִּצְוָ֣ה הַזֹּ֔את אֲשֶׁ֛ר אָנֹכִ֥י מְצַוְּךָ֖ הַיּ֑וֹם לֹא־נִפְלֵ֥את הִוא֙ מִמְּךָ֔ וְלֹ֥א רְחֹקָ֖ה הִֽוא. לֹ֥א בַשָּׁמַ֖יִם הִ֑וא לֵאמֹ֗ר מִ֣י יַעֲלֶה־לָּ֤נוּ הַשָּׁמַ֙יְמָה֙ וְיִקָּחֶ֣הָ לָּ֔נוּ וְיַשְׁמִעֵ֥נוּ אֹתָ֖הּ וְנַעֲשֶֽׂנָּה. וְלֹא־מֵעֵ֥בֶר לַיָּ֖ם הִ֑וא לֵאמֹ֗ר מִ֣י יַעֲבׇר־לָ֜נוּ אֶל־עֵ֤בֶר הַיָּם֙ וְיִקָּחֶ֣הָ לָּ֔נוּ וְיַשְׁמִעֵ֥נוּ אֹתָ֖הּ וְנַעֲשֶֽׂנָּה. כִּֽי־קָר֥וֹב אֵלֶ֛יךָ הַדָּבָ֖ר מְאֹ֑ד בְּפִ֥יךָ וּבִֽלְבָבְךָ֖ לַעֲשֹׂתֽוֹ
Surely, this mitzvah, this idea of repentance that I compel you to take on this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, “Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and teach us and make us do it?” Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and teach us and make us do it?”
I love this verse. Many love this verse because, in a nutshell, it reminds us that Jewish life and commitment do not have to be difficult or beyond our reach. We read it as we enter the season of the High Holidays, always with the hope that we will make meaning from it, whoever we are. It is a reminder that we can shape this Jewish life and soul work into what we need it to be.
This is our last Torah reading before Rosh Hashanah and in the evening, we will gather again for Selichot. I love this quiet, candlelit opportunity this Saturday night — the last one before Rosh Hashanah — to remind ourselves what this is all about.
I hope you might join us for some soul-reckoning, a reminder of the tunes you probably love and the changing of our scroll covers to white in such a deeply symbolic act. Sometimes ritual just writes itself.
Wishing you well on this 22nd day of Elul.
Shabbat shalom,
Rebecca
“Take your first fruits, gather them, put them in a basket and offer them up beautifully.”
I love the modern way of reading this — that we show off our “harvest,” both real and metaphorical. We feel grateful and proud when things work out, when they grow and come to fruition.
וְלָֽקַחְתָּ֞ מֵֽרֵאשִׁ֣ית | כָּל־פְּרִ֣י הָֽאֲדָמָ֗ה
We are not always good at doing this. Yet, this willingness to share is part of the Middah (character trait) of generosity, which we will study this Shabbat as part of our journey through Musar during the month of Elul, leading us up to Rosh Hashanah and the beginning of Tishri.
Generosity stems from the root: נדִיוּת (Nedivut) — volunteering and free will.
“The heart gives freely when it realizes that it is not a separate and isolated entity, but rather belongs to a larger whole of community,” wrote Rabbi Eliezer Papo (1785–1826). I appreciate this reminder. Join us this Shabbat for Parashat Ki Tavo and an exploration of generosity and its place in our lives.
As well as Musar, we are reading and rereading Psalm 27 during Elul. I am revisiting verse five again and again this week: “One thing I ask is to dwell in God’s house forever.” Do listen to Aly Halpert’s beautiful setting of this psalm — who doesn’t wish for ease and comfort?
Our service for Selichot the last Saturday night of Elul before Rosh Hashanah will comprise late night digestifs, havdalah, re-acquainting ourselves with High Holy Day melodies and doing our own Heshbon HaNefesh: an inventory of the soul. Do join us on 5th September at 8:30pm.
Shabbat shalom,
Rebecca
Summer is always quieter.
I noticed a headline this week that the Barbican Conservatory is giving away hundreds, if not thousands, of cuttings for people to nurture while it closes for much-needed renovations. This news comes alongside reports of Kyiv coming under heavy Russian missile attacks, which killed 13, and, of course, the ongoing opinion pieces regarding the drought, the whiplash of climate change and those who continue to deny it.
We always have to choose where to put our attention, our anguish and our energy.
I hope you are recharging a little and that you can receive the teachings this week on the middah of equanimity and how to cultivate it. The Hebrew term is menuchat hanefesh (מנוחת הנפש), which literally means “calmness of the resting soul.”
The Musar movement teaches that seeking equanimity is about achieving an inner equilibrium that is not easily upset by the ups and downs that are part of life. We cannot insulate ourselves from life’s trials, but we can prepare for them; fostering a calm soul readies us to be the kind of people who can and will pass our life tests. As we learn from Pirkei Avot 5:10:
“One of the seven characteristics of a wise person is that they respond to first things first, and to last things later.”
Choose wisely in these days of Elul what you will attend to.
Shabbat shalom,
Rebecca
FPS has always been renowned for its music. Franklyn Gellnick has been a major part of this. Franklyn, a child of the community, grew into an adulthood here whilst developing his own musical prowess. A celebrated pianist (and lesser-known bassist), Franklyn graduated in 1991 with a First in Music and went on to gain his PhD in Gregorian chant — an excellent addition to Jewish music!
Apart from his synagogue work, he has examined for ABRSM and performed with the Zemel Choir in 14 countries. His jazz piano piece, Moody Prawn Blues, is performed worldwide, and he has many klezmer arrangements for violin and clarinet in print. FPS is inordinately proud.
Franklyn’s long-awaited plan to move to Belgium with his wife, Alex, is exciting for them but will, of course, leave us a little bereft. I want to reassure you that Franklyn will be back for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur — and Brussels is not so far away. Although he can’t be replaced, we are in the process of ensuring music, creativity and melody are sustained well here. Maya Rosenwasser, another child of the community and a concert pianist herself, will be joining us for many services. Two younger members, Sam Balint-Kurti and Sam Field, with impressive voices and piano skills, will be leading as well.
Change is a challenge. I know a lot is at stake right now as we navigate endings and new beginnings and our Council is committed, as I am, to managing it well and to holding the community throughout.
We begin the month of Elul this Shabbat. It’s a time of introspection and strengthening ahead of the New Year. The acronym using its letters points to the verse from the Song of Songs: “I am my beloved and my beloved is mine” (Ani l’Dodi v’Dodi Li).
It is a special season, whatever change is happening – and maybe more so for us right now. One custom during this month is to read Psalm 27 every day. I love Rabbi Richard Levy’s translation and am sharing these verses below, which remind us we all need to be steadied at moments in our lives:
The High Holy Days are about navigating newness and I look forward to sharing them with you.
Shabbat shalom,
Rebecca
“You shall not act at all as we now act here, each person as they please” (Deuteronomy 12:8). This verse in Parashat Re’eh is always arresting in nature, suggesting that once the Israelites settled into the land as one communal people, they needed to act as a congregation, uniformly in sync, mindful of each other and “rowing in the same direction.” As Rabbi Colin Eimer more creatively translates and challenges it:
“If every Jew does whatever they want, wherever they want, Judaism won’t survive another generation.”
But we have shown each other that this adage is no longer true; indeed, it even offends. Up to 200 years ago, our Liberal and Reform ancestors strained against the constrictions placed by their Orthodox contemporaries and created something vibrant that continues in its dynamism. As proof, next week our children will head to Kadimah, the LJY Summer Camp, which has been educating our youth for generations.
I believe strongly that the autonomy we each exercise is what strengthens the diversity of our Jewish identity. It is diversity within a strong whole. As the teachers and writer Helen Keller observed, “Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.”
“Re’eh”, this week’s portion begins: the instruction to look and be aware. And so, during these weeks of consolation, we are studying Musar to ensure we look, asses and bring our own personalities and psyches into the process, arriving at Rosh Hashanah more thoughtfully and personally than ever, reaching for a shle’mut, a wholeness that must be unique to each one of us.
As we continually witness, autonomy and community can exist well together. This week we will look at equanimity and finding that peace.
Shabbat shalom,Rebecca
I loved Robert Harris’s Conclave — and the film too. What stayed with me was the narrative (whether real or imagined) that those who seek leadership with overt ambition are often not the ones ultimately chosen. Instead, leadership falls to those for whom it comes almost as a surprise, those who are reluctant to seek the limelight. It’s intriguing watching the array of leaders who cross our path, be they a new Prime Minister for us here, or teachers, or rabbis. I know our new Chair Michael Lassman is currently assembling a team to think about what FPS most values in its rabbi and the whole congregation will be asked for their thoughts.
Walking the path between confidence and humility is something most of us do every day, as we navigate work, relationships and life itself. In the Musar tradition, anavah (ענווה), usually translated as humility, is not about thinking less of yourself. Rather, it is about seeing yourself truthfully and taking up your rightful place, neither shrinking from nor exaggerating your own importance. One of the clearest teachings comes from Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, who describes humility as the opposite of self-importance, not the absence of self-worth.
This week’s Parashat Eikev sees Moses offering much the same lesson: be careful not to assume that all the good in your life is entirely your own doing. Be vigilant, lest your heart grow haughty.
I find myself reflecting on this a great deal, especially right now. What contributes to our success and our happiness, both in work and in life? When should we allow ourselves to be proud of our achievements, and when should we recognise the people, opportunities and circumstances that have made them possible?
These feel like fitting questions as we begin the slow journey towards the High Holy Days, during these weeks of consolation following Tisha B’Av.
Shabbat shalom,
Rebecca
We are moving house today. It is indeed a big week of changes. I am thinking deeply about what it signifies to leave the home I created as a sanctuary for the children and me eleven years ago. In fact, I recall FPSers Melvyn and CA Newman, and Hugh and Doreen Isaacs planting fruit trees for us as soon as we arrived.
During weddings, I often describe that the home is a Mikdash Me’at, literally a small sanctuary, a carved-out copy of the original temple and, therefore, a smaller place of security, holiness and safety. We all try to make our homes feel this way for whoever lives in them.
No-one likes change — at least I don’t — and several of you have told me this week that you don’t either. Yet it is ever-present.
Of course, it would be this week that parashat V’etchanan introduces the Shema, those words etched on our hearts that we teach our children and use so firmly to mark our passageways. How is it possible that Torah echoes life so exquisitely?
The prayer is actually a passage from Deuteronomy 6 that we will read this Shabbat. This translation by Rabbi Janet Burden is so beautifully evocative of making Jewish passageways – both big shifts and smaller domestic movements – throughout our lives:
“These words… repeat them faithfully to your children, [and others’ children]; just as you speak them when you are at home, speak of them in the wider world. Let them guide your hands and focus your vision, both when you take your rest and when you rise each day. Write them on your doors and on your gates, that they may frame your passages through life.”
I love these words and I am taking them into our new home alongside our new mezuzot.
I pray that our new home will be a mikdash me’at for all seven of us who will live there. I hope the 4th and 5th commandments (honouring parents and celebrating Shabbat) will be manifest from every corner of the house. I hope we will feel a sense of homecoming as well as ease. I hope for many Shabbat dinners, lunches, and afternoons and a plethora of Shehecheyanu opportunities of newness, from the placing of our mezuzah to our first Rosh Hashanah here. I hope to welcome many of you through our front door and continue the connections that mean so much to us.
Shabbat shalom,
Rebecca
Eleh hadevarim — “these are the words.” This is how the final book of the Torah begins: with words that recount the life and journey of our people, everything that unfolded as they travelled, their entry into the covenant at Sinai and their becoming a people. The Book of Deuteronomy is entirely about repetition, reminding us of the experiences and stories that occurred throughout the Torah.
I love this focus on repeating; because truthfully repetition is a constant theme in all of our lives. Indeed, we spend our years rehearsing so much, revisiting the same experiences and getting to hopefully do things better and make things easier as they come around again and again. As the Hasidic teachers frequently remind us, the Torah reverberates for each individual in every generation. And so, this repetition lives in the heart and mind of each of us.
We have just begun the month of Av, which is considered a time of grief, as it includes Tisha B’Av, the day of mourning for all Jewish losses from the destruction of the Temples onward. Each year, it offers us an opportunity to assess the fragility of the world, as well as our own losses and frailties.
Where were we last year? How are we this year? What has changed? But we know the repetition of life gives occasion for good, as well as challenging, moments. This Shabbat marks the final week of Ivriah before the end of term. It celebrates another year of our children’s learning. It also brings a new Council for us at FPS, a chance to honour our past Chair, Beverley Kafka, and a summer BBQ to give us all an opportunity to simply be together and begin our Summer in each other’s company.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
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This year’s High Holy Days will be poignant for us all: my last with you. And yet perhaps their very theme of change will help us negotiate the transition ahead.