This week was a fantastic moment for us as a community. We celebrated becoming the first Synagogue of Sanctuary, a title in recognition of our ongoing efforts to bring justice to this world we share.
So many fabulous FPS folk over the past 11 years have been part of this work. I think particularly of Charlotte Fischer, community organiser and long time friend of FPS and our initial collaborator in pursuing justice. (Tzedek Tzedek Tirdof as Deuteronomy reminds us.) She said this to us and I wanted to share it:
“Many people rightly spoke last night about the impact you’ve made on migrant and refugee communities. But I want to add the gifts you’ve given the Jewish community. I think you’ve done something that gives people hope in the world, and whilst it’s done good for so many communities, it particularly builds a sense of possibility and joy for Jews. Every time something hard happens — every time something less good is in the news, everyone who knows FPS and their story remembers people can reach out across difference, synagogues can be centres of hope and home to our own and other communities, we can take risks (and it’s easier when we do it with each other and with friends). You chose winning rather than feeling either rage or despair or self righteousness. The fruits were so visible last night.”
Our sanctuary was packed with our Mayor, many local Councillors, local religious groups, our partners we work with and so many of our own from FPS. “Pause and mark” is what Jewish tradition teaches us. And so we did.
Student Rabbi Margeaux was part of this, as she has been part of all things at FPS these past five weeks. She has been a gift in all ways: her voice, her strong learning, her competent skills and her sweet energy. How proud I am for us at FPS to be the centre of excellence and receive these brilliant students to train with us. How lucky we have been. Do come and see Margeaux leading her last Shabbat with us this weekend.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
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יוֹדוּךָ יְהֹוָה כׇּל־מַעֲשֶׂיךָ וַחֲסִידֶיךָ יְבָרְכוּכָה׃ תהילים קמ״ה
All Your works shall praise You, Eternal One, and Your faithful ones shall bless You.
Psalm 145 (Ashrei)
What a blessing it has been to spend the last month and a half here at FPS! Despite some logistical challenges in the early stages of the planning process, Rabbi Rebecca worked overtime to make this internship a reality – so as my time here comes to an end, I want to take stock of all I have to be grateful for! To learn from and with all of you – b’nei mitzvah families, Taste of Torah attendees, kids in Ivriah, Friday and Saturday service participants, Delvers into Judaism, Council members, those of you involved in social justice, young adult programming, and so much more – has helped me feel so integrated into this community and pushed me to grow in my path to the rabbinate.
I have also quickly been educated on the rich world of British Jewry: becoming familiar with a new prayerbook, hearing from clergy and laypeople about the impact of the Progressive merger, observing life cycles and the Liberal Beit Din, celebrating our Synagogue of Sanctuary award, and living the daily rhythm of Jewish life here. I look forward to sharing my experience with all my American colleagues at HUC – and a delegation of us will be back in January, so I look forward to diving in again (and coming to visit!) in 2027.
Most of all, it has been a such a joy to collaborate with John Rubenstein, Sarah Wendy, and Rabbi Rebecca on a new version of the Friday night prayerbook (siddur) with transliteration and expanded liturgy/reflective readings – hopefully it will enrich (and simplify) the Kabbalat Shabbat experience at FPS and leave all of you something to remember me by!
I head on to my next adventure inspired by the deep compassion and engagement I have seen in all corners of this community – you have welcomed me so warmly and should be so proud of all that FPS has to offer and all that each of you contribute.
L’hitraot,
Margeaux
First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me
I have thought about this poem a great deal since watching the violent vigilante mob marauding the streets of Belfast in response to Hadi Alodid’s horrific attack on Stephen Ogilvie. There is much understandable anger and fear, but this pogrom-like violence is terrifying to watch. It is equally devastating to read about the fear of those from immigrant backgrounds currently living in Belfast, who are too terrified to leave their homes.
Living with difference and dissent is the moral of this week’s Parashat Korach. For ever more, Korach and his followers are remembered for instigating a challenge and disagreement that had no constructive basis or holy purpose.
Pastor Martin Niemöller was a complicated man. Initially an anti-semitic Nazi sympathiser, he later underwent a profound shift in his perspective and outlook, which these famous words capture so well. His message makes it clear that looking out for others is akin to looking out for ourselves and vice versa. As Jews, we choose to recognise this profound interdependence: our safety is inextricably bound up with the safety of others. We believe that our commitment to working with refugees and asylum seekers makes us safer, not less so, because the more connections we build, the more human we all become.
Pirkei Avot reminds us of this through the enduring words of Hillel:
אִם אֵין אֲנִי לִי, מִי לִי. וּכְשֶׁאֲנִי לְעַצְמִי, מָה אֲנִי. וְאִם לֹא עַכְשָׁיו, אֵימָתַי
“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And when I am for myself alone, what am I? And if not now, when?”
This Shabbat and next Tuesday evening, we celebrate being designated as the very first Synagogue of Sanctuary in the United Kingdom. It is a milestone that truly lives out these words.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
And there we saw the Nephilim (the sons of Anak, the giants), and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them. — Numbers 13:33
I’ve always loved this verse. It is as much about self-worth as it is about the fear of the unknown and trying scary new things.
The world feels, and indeed is, daunting right now. Keeping ourselves safe while remaining open-hearted is hard work. However, this past week, the Jewish charity HIAS-JCORE honoured our congregation by naming us the very first Synagogue of Sanctuary, a recognition of who we have been for the past 11 years.
Alongside being an active, working community that cares for our own, marks our individual milestones and ensures Jewish confidence and consolation, we have been acknowledged as a synagogue that is deeply concerned for others. We act on our empathy to ‘pay forward’ the welcome and care so many of our own families once received here.
It is a great honour. Rabbi David Mason, who leads HIAS-JCORE, said:
“On behalf of the Assessment Panel that met with you yesterday, I would like to say how delighted we are to award you the status of the first Synagogue of Sanctuary. This is a special moment both for Cities of Sanctuary and for HIAS-JCORE – and the decision was unanimous. We were all inspired and massively impressed by the breadth of work that you undertake.”
Barnet Council representatives, who also sat on the judging panel, commended the speed with which we found alternative (temporary) homes for the activities and clubs we’ve had to pause right now. We remain deeply committed to refugee settlement and asylum welcome.
We will soon mark this achievement and celebrate the extraordinary congregants who have led this work, truly making FPS a House of Justice as well as a House of Prayer, Learning and Acts of Loving-Kindness.
Shabbat morning 13th June and Tuesday evening 16th June.
(See below – please book for Tuesday 16th, or just come along to our Shabbat service on the 13th.)
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Nostalgia is a powerful emotion. Many of us look back and imbue the past with more positivity than it actually held. This week’s Torah portion, Behaalotecha, demonstrates this in full technicolour. Hungry, tired and annoyed, the Israelites articulate the ultimate rose-tinted yearning for the past:
“If only we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt freely – also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. Now our gullets are shriveled. There is nothing at all! Nothing but this manna to look at!”
Our Wednesday Torah study group astutely recognized the emotions at play here. How comfortable it is to reminisce and to insist the past was better, easier or kinder. But doing so is often unhelpful and usually untrue. I read this as a warning against the tempting belief that things are worse now than they have ever been. Such views undermine both the present and the past.
The Afghan Sephardi tradition of whipping fellow guests at the Seder with spring onions during Dayeinu is a direct response to this verse: you might miss the food but you have forgotten the whips.
We should take heed.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
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Shavuot is the wallflower of festivals, I often think. While all of us are schooled in Pesach, many know less about, and have a more modest engagement with, Shavuot. Yet, it is one of the very best: cheesecake, conversion, late-night learning and the Book of Ruth. What is there not to love? Recalling the memory of revelation at Sinai, it offers a yearly opportunity to consider what it means to be part of this Jewish Covenant. It invites us to make sense of the commitments we inherit, from honouring one’s parents to not separating ourselves from the community (particularly when it most needs us). While there are midrashim (stories) suggesting that Sinai was literally held over the Israelites’ heads as a threat rather than a choice, I think Shavuot actually reminds us of consent: the choice is ours to be involved in this way of life. In that way, we are all Jews by choice. My favourite element of Shavuot is the Book of Ruth and its playful treatment of the Torah rules and values that permeate Leviticus and Deuteronomy. While those texts caution against marrying foreign-born spouses, the Book of Ruth beautifully contradicts this through the magnificent and loyal Ruth. Not only that, but Ruth the Moabite becomes the ancestor of King David (the precursor of the Messianic ideal). It turns the strict letter of the law on its head, offering a more expansive and inclusive take on being part of the Israelite clan. Here, families are unconventional—made up of women coping incredibly well even after losing their partners. The rules of supporting the vulnerable are fully fleshed out here, too. The commandment to leave the edges of the harvest to be gleaned by the poor and the stranger, as explained in Leviticus, is given vivid life in Ruth. Through her story, we understand that those giving and those receiving are in a direct relationship, needing each other to be full members of the community. Women lead the way here, their savviness and loyalty shining through each chapter. I like to think that Thomas Hardy read Ruth and allowed it to influence his Tess of the d’Urbervilles – another clever young woman who gleans at harvest time to carve out a life for herself. It is a compelling tale and Ruth is considered the first convert with very good reason. Jewishness, so heavily discussed in the wider world right now, needs our inner consideration, too. Where have we felt afraid, proud or ambivalent this year? What does it mean to us right now? This week, I offered the final prayer as Chaplain to Rabbi Danny Rich’s Mayoralty at a most unusual Council meeting for Barnet as the hung council was resolved. I see even that civic duty as a religious obligation, flowing from my understanding of being in a covenant as a Jew. It helps me make sense of it all right now and raises my awareness of the positive influence we can wield. I hope you might join us for learning, for cheesecake, for music or simply to host SPS and Sha’arei Tsedek, who so generously hosted us last year. Or, if the synagogue building isn’t your thing this year, perhaps join the Shavuot brookside walk on Friday lunchtime with the Crouch End Chavurah. The conversations, I hope, will be both relevant and risqué. Chag Shavuot Sameach. |
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This week has been incredibly busy following last Sunday’s rally. Yesterday afternoon, His Majesty King Charles III visited Golders Green in a powerful show of support and solidarity. During his visit, he met with our Co-Chief Executives, Rabbis Charley Baginsky and Josh Levy. Yesterday morning, I joined other Progressive rabbis in a meeting with Sarah Mullally, the Archbishop of Canterbury. I cannot adequately convey how seismic it feels for non-Orthodox rabbis to be included in these high-level engagements. It has taken years of hard, dedicated work to reach this point, ensuring that we are all seen and represented. This Shabbat, we begin the Book of Numbers, which opens with a call to perform a census – literally, to “raise the heads” of those in the community: |
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How things have changed of who gets counted! |
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The verse resonates deeply this week. Here in London, and across the UK, we are finally being counted and acknowledged. This is a moment of pride for us all to share. Shabbat Shalom |
I know there is an overwhelming feeling of sadness at the moment – not only because of the spate of attacks and attempted attacks against synagogues and Jewish spaces but perhaps also because we have missed the allyship and solidarity we expected from the wider London community. However, I want to share moments of utter optimism, hope and support that I have witnessed this past week.
I have been reminded that people are horrified by racist attacks of any kind. Many, from faith groups to neighbours, stand as firm friends, actively seeking to pursue shared initiatives. This past Wednesday, at a Clergy study day on Great Portland Street with the amazing organisation Love and Power, eight rabbis joined 20 Christian and Muslim leaders for a conversation on creating a better society, beginning within our own institutions. It was deeply instructive. Things are not only ‘bad’; there is so much that is kind, concerned and even righteous.
Speaking of institutions, hearing our own teenagers from FPS speak so eloquently to Paddy O’Connell on Radio 4’s Broadcasting House should make us all immensely proud of our community. 32 minutes in after the News.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m002vy91
We have educated, nurtured and celebrated these children to feel proud of their Jewishness, appreciative of their friends from all backgrounds and grounded regarding recent events. What we have successfully done – and we all need a lift right now – is to build true resilience in these young people. I couldn’t be prouder and I hope you will be too.
This week, we celebrate another Bar Mitzvah: the son of our treasurer. Perhaps we sometimes take it for granted when our young people come of age through B’nei Mitzvah, but it is actually an amazing choice and an expression of Jewish identity during a time of uncertainty. It is, without a doubt, something to uplift and inspire us all.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
P.S. Join the Vigil Protest Please join the vigil protest this Sunday where Rabbis Charley Baginsky and Josh Levy will be speaking. Check Facebook for confirmed details that will be released tomorrow afternoon.
A change is as good as a rest, people say. I was away for a few days this week and it was a welcome break from the high tension of living in North London at the moment. These words from Wendell Berry’s Sabbath poem (1979) sum it up:
I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I left them, asleep like cattle.
Then what is afraid of me comes
and lives a while in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and the fear of me leaves it.
I was indeed sitting among trees, breathing different air – but on Wednesday, I was heartbroken to see and follow yet another anti-Semitic attack in Golders Green. Although the condition of the victims Shloime Rand and Norman Shine is serious, we hope for their stable progress.
As always, our synagogue has acted swiftly with the police and CST to boost care and vigilance, to ensure it feels safe to come here. We have reviewed where are security will be and at Ivriah break times, there will be enhanced alertness for our children.
As proud Jewish Londoners, we must continue our work, our life and our community activities. Bar mitzvahs must be celebrated and babies blessed – and now, we need each other more than ever.
I hope to see you for Shabbat. Please reach out if you need to talk or check in.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
I am learning wheel throwing; having wanted to immerse myself in ceramics for a while, I’ve finally found a wonderful teacher, Amy Wilson and her group on a Monday morning and have spent the last three months wrestling with clay, learning just enough to know which tool to use when, switching on the wheel and just settling into the pottery studio. I’ve discovered that white, non-toasted clay is easier to work with than toasted, which literally hurts your fingers as you handle it.
But the biggest revelation is that it is all about ‘centring’. The clay needs to be centred well, really well, on the wheel. Your body needs to be upright and grounded, your hands aligned, touching and careful, and the pot’s base and lip must all be centred in turn.
The concept of centring is so integral to Jewish discourse, and indeed to the life of a congregational rabbi, that I was almost dismayed to find the same rules apply here too. Leading a congregation presents the piquant challenge of being centred enough to see and hear everyone, to occupy a middle position from which you can identify the entire spectrum of lives flowing in and out of the synagogue community. Being centred means you are weighted just right to be accessible to, and inclusive of, all. It sounds easy – just as centring a pot sounds easy – until you actually try it.
The patience needed to set up each ‘throwing’ feels Herculean to me. It makes me realise how lacking in patience (savlanut) I am. The Musar movement, created by Rabbi Israel Salanter in the 19th century, describes how best to manage our souls and use the characteristics available to us to be in balance – not too much or too little of anything. My impatience is a deficit of savlanut. I see how much – and how swiftly – I want to see results. I realise that slow, careful entry into the pot making is extraordinarily challenging for me. I want to make it
, not fiddle with preparing the clay before it gets onto the wheel, centring it on the wheel, then carefully honing the worked wedge of clay up and down three or four times to ensure the pot is ready to be built.
Musar has also taught me about being grounded, creating trust (bitachon) for myself and for others so that we trust the process and the order of things (seder). One can’t bypass the stages we need to go through in life, whether it be grief, loss – or even learning to make a pot. Now, the clay and the pot are repeating these lessons back to me. It is difficult precisely because nothing can work without that crucial centring, including in the work of a congregational rabbi, charged with ensuring everything happens carefully, fairly and evenly in community. This week’s portion Acharei Mot-Kedoshim warns against partiality in all settings. I rather like that reminder of steadiness.
I love the lesson that is there every day of my working life – and that it is exactly the same in the pottery studio – an
d maybe that’s because it’s true.
Amy is joining us this Shabbat, as part of our OMER focus on simplicity and beauty. 10.30pm 25th April and then again Erev Shavuot 5-7pm 21st May to make candlesticks and mezzuzot to ground in love, and simplicity. The perfect antidote to the world right now. There are two places left. Please consider joining me, it will be good.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Post Passover and in the days between Yom HaShoah and Yom Ha’atzmaut I’m reflecting on whether we believe in the power of redemption?
New film The Drama has everybody talking after raising a number of issues around redemption that are core to both our shared humanity and our Progressive Jewish tradition.
In the movie, a bride-to-be (played by Zendaya) reveals, a week before her wedding, something huge that changes the way her groom, and everyone else, sees her, possibly forever. Their relationship is thrown into jeopardy.
Is that our worst nightmare – to share a shameful secret and then not find redemption for it?
It also raises the question – what, when and who can we forgive?
The response feels quite obvious. If regret is truly there, then one is obligated to consider it. If it isn’t, then it’s also clear. No one can expect redemption if one hasn’t owned, truly owned, the harm they have wreaked. Apologies have to be real and thoughtful, motivated by regret.
Progressive Judaism will always use tradition as a foundation and then respond with contemporary relevance, details and ethics.
Maimonides’ advice from his Hilchot Teshuva has stood the test of time.
People make mistakes, but without owning them and committing to be better, the regret is flimsy and insubstantial.
When the regret is real and all four steps have been followed with genuine remorse, it’s on us to accept – to acknowledge that change can happen. Everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone.
It is forbidden for a person to be cruel and not appeased; so when someone feels terrible, makes amends and wants to make things right, it’s incumbent on us to give them a second chance.
The broken tablets – that Moses threw at his disobedient people – were deposited in the Ark, taught Rabbi Yosef, alongside the new ones, as a reminder of human frailty. (BT Bava Batra 14b).
Believing in each other’s power to change and grow is a belief in our fellow human, and this belief is at the heart of Progressive Judaism.
I hope The Drama, when I see it, won’t change my mind on this.
Shabbat Shalom and look forward to seeing you over Shabbat or at one of our events next week – the streamed Memorial service at FPS on Monday or Yom Ha’atzmaut on Tuesday.
Rebecca
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