It’s so easy to talk to people who agree with us. There is something soothing about hearing things that affirm, rather than challenge, what we feel and believe. It gives us a cosy sense of recognition and comfort. I suppose that is what is meant by an echo chamber: we surround ourselves with people who agree with us and think as we do; we read newspapers that reflect our own views.
Communities can sometimes do the same. They develop a shared and familiar language that can become so ingrained that we struggle to imagine how someone new might enter and be understood.
This week’s Torah portion, Noach, contains the fascinating and brief story of the Tower of Babel. Humanity spoke one language and this led to utter hubris as people decided to build a tower that would reach heaven, as if they could unravel the mysteries of everything they could not know or see. They were making remarkable progress, as we know how efficient people can be when they share a language and a goal. Their mission was interrupted by God. Multiple languages were introduced, and they could no longer work together so seamlessly to achieve their arrogant ambition.
In Genesis 11, we read that humanity spoke devarim ahadim – “the same words” – though the text does not spell out what these words were. One interpretation teaches us that it was not the content of the words themselves that distressed the Holy One of Blessing. God was alarmed not by what people were saying but by the fact that they “all thought the same thing and this came to be the problem of the settlement.”
The Netziv (Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin, a nineteenth-century Lithuanian rabbi), commenting on this passage, explained that having one language was not in itself a sin but that it “caused the first sin”. Because people could communicate so easily, “they agreed to stop in one single place.” This, he argued, was contrary to God’s instruction to “fill the earth and replenish it”: humanity was meant to spread out and inhabit its different places, because the earth had been created to be settled.
In other words: branch out. Encounter others. Engage with difference. Open up.
What a brilliantly subtle lesson this offers about the dangers of closed-mindedness. Unity, far from necessarily ensuring openness, can end up closing it down.
We speak a language here at FPS, and I believe – or at least hope – that you and I speak it together. Imagining someone new arriving to lead will, of course, mean learning new languages, at least initially. But that is a good thing. It will bring new opportunities and possibilities.
Having been in Spain this week to visit Dora, I feel particularly alert to the power of language. Whilst we were in Madrid, we also explored Córdoba and learnt about Jewish history with the brilliant Rabbi Haim Casas. We came to understand just how deeply Jewish history is entangled with the Christian and Muslim histories of southern Spain. It was a powerful reminder of the richness and expansiveness that new encounters can bring.
Now that the month of the High Holy Days is over – and what a wonderful month it has been at FPS – I hope we can talk about this period of transition: about anticipating newness, managing uncertainty and remaining open to new ways of communicating and the unfamiliar.
After all, perhaps the task is not to ensure that we all speak the same language but to remain willing to learn one another’s – and perhaps discover what we could never have found on our own.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
What a travesty this week has been for British politics. There is a mixture of sadness, outrage and of course fear following the ridiculous motion passed last Sunday by the Green Party. Zionism is not racism, obviously. A party telling a minority community how to identify itself is racist. Every Jew and many others understand the multi layered history of Zionism and the yearning for a homeland that predates this current government by millennia. Our prayers are seeped in that focus towards Jerusalem, and the word Zion holds such preciousness. How can it be a racist act to attend or be part of Zionist synagogues and institutions? Many, many Jewish Greens feel utterly betrayed and obviously homeless right now. This is a deeply offensive and worrying step, ironically unlikely to help a single Palestinian whilst so many Zionist Jews who have been engaged in such important work are now branded racists. The path to a just and possible solution is of course harder now, as is the mood and fear for British Jews.
For me, our Bar Mitzvah this Shabbat will stand up to affirm his inheritance and identity with an extra poignancy. I am profoundly proud of him and us as a community who will continue to pray, argue, disagree and gather. In this week’s Parashat Bereishit, we hear:
וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְהֹוָה֙ אֶל־קַ֔יִן אֵ֖י הֶ֣בֶל אָחִ֑יךָ וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ לֹ֣א יָדַ֔עְתִּי הֲשֹׁמֵ֥ר אָחִ֖י אָנֹֽכִי׃
GOD said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” And he said, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?”
וַיֹּ֖אמֶר מֶ֣ה עָשִׂ֑יתָ ק֚וֹל דְּמֵ֣י אָחִ֔יךָ צֹעֲקִ֥ים אֵלַ֖י מִן־הָֽאֲדָמָֽה׃
“What have you done? Hark, your brother’s blood cries out to Me from the ground!
We may well ask that question this week, especially as we have just marked the third anniversary of the 7th October massacre. But these days have also offered a reminder of solidarity from many of our allies and friends. May we take strength from them.
At our beautiful memorial service last Sunday evening, Rabbi Yael Vurgan explained that sometimes out of deep suffering comes moral responsibility and care. I remain inspired by our colleagues in Israel who lead with such thoughtfulness and breadth and who make space for so much as they continue to lead and comfort.
May the memories of those who died be for a blessing and an inspiration.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Last Shabbat during Sukkot, we hosted Bishop Anderson Jeremiah, which was a delight. He spoke about memory, witnessing and friendship between Jewish and Christian communities. He had recently returned from a visit to Auschwitz (the same trip we will make next month).
Over an unexpectedly jolly dinner — his words not mine — he told us that he hadn’t always been religiously inspired. Indeed, he said, to my Ruben’s delight, that he had often rebelled against his father’s services. So when he came to faith and the priesthood as an adult, he surprised himself.
This Shabbat, we finish the cycle of Torah, ending with the death of Moses and beginning again with Genesis, Bereshit.
For some of us, attachment to, and reflecting on, the Torah cycle has been our Jewish thread. For others, it’s been a more physical attachment to family or even to land, and to what perhaps Israel meant and means. For yet others of us, it might be political perspectives and identity.
What Bishop Anderson modelled is that this attachment can always change, or even arrive unannounced.
‘Turn it and turn it, for everything is in it,’ said Rabbi Ben Bag Bag over two thousand years ago. It still resonates. I find the cycle of Torah ties me to my Jewish life more than anything else, because it demands meaning, interpretation and renewal every week.
That’s why I’m in this.
After a two-year hiatus, during which we were hosted elsewhere, I’m so happy we are back home. This year, we’ll celebrate Simchat Torah in our own way. We’ll honour Margot and Aaron Katz as our Chatan and Kallah (bride and groom), as they are so dear to us. They held us together so amazingly during our year out of the building, hosting us for so many events and FPS experiences. They made home for us.
Chag Sameach and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Rebecca Birk
From the spiritual intensity of Yom Kippur, we tumble straight into Sukkot, moving straight into the physical, visceral experience of building the Sukkah and hopefully, spending time in it. I love the month of Tishrei festivals and this year, I appreciate it even more, knowing it will be my last with you.
After the intensity of the last ten days of repentance, this will literally be a refreshing shift, as we sit in the Sukkah with the wind on our faces, exposed to the elements. Strangest of all, we are required, commanded even, to be joyful. How we can insist on a feeling is intriguing – but that is what we are called to do. Joy isn’t fun or plain happiness; it’s a fuller sense of life.
This is the perfect time for us to offer a very special event, Restore, Renew, Recommit – an afternoon of new year intentions, creativity, health sessions and being together as we raise money for our memorial garden for Lesley Urbach and Lionel Lassman. This is the perfect way to do so.
I love it when our congregation puts on thoughtful and interesting events like this. It will reflect synagogue time and all that newness and reflection and yet here, it will be in a more creative setting with wine, tea and cake, movement and learning and relaxing together. Do come – we can fit a few more in on Shabbat afternoon.
Meanwhile come to use our Sukkah, especially if you don’t have one at home. Leon and his team built it and our children decorated with the indomitable Hilary Luder. Smell the lavender and have tea, soup, honey cake and challah. Just come. Tonight, our special guest is Bishop of Edmonton, Anderson Jeremiah, and I hope many of you will be there too. We need friends and allies, so bring them into the sukkah.
Chag Sukkot Sameach. May you find joy.
Rebecca
P.S. An FPS group will be in Krakow 19-21 October for important learning at this moment of the year. If you want to join belatedly, you still can. Contact
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
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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.