Helen Keller said; “The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.”
We know the difference between sight and the capacity to see and have vision. These past ten months, the need to see, watch and bear witness has been huge since the horrific events of October 7th and events in Israel, Gaza and the Occupied Territories have unfolded through the following months. It has felt a Jewish obligation to pay attention carefully and watch responsibly. This has extended to life here. I haven’t taken this responsibility to keep eyes open lightly.
When we’ve offered the Morning Blessings, pokeach ivrim, the one who opens the eyes, feels very live and very real.
This week’s Parashat BALAK has Balaam the sorcerer failing to the see the obstruction in his path and it takes his donkey, after he has whipped it three times, to help open his eyes so he can see the Angel of God. B’nei Mitzvah students love this portion with the talking donkey, but there is something very adult as well about the opening of his eyes to the reality. It’s compelling in this story and it has been extraordinarily compelling these past ten months.
But so is the need to look and gaze elsewhere at times. So is the need to take rest and look at the stars, greenery, the sea and your beloveds.
Mary Oliver wrote in The Song of the Builders:
On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God –
a worthy pastime.
I hope to manage this during my break from work and although watching the tragedies that surround us, I will be focusing my attention elsewhere briefly. As the poet Amanda Gorman explains;
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it
if only we’re brave enough to be it.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
I was very moved on Sunday to witness the ordination of 5 new rabbis; joining the progressive rabbinate and ready to take on communities.
Rabbis Daisy, Eleanor, Nicola, Martina and Matt who studied through the Pandemic and the closures all spoke of their trepidation of what it might mean to lead, to give direction, to know where to go – one even asked us the congregation exactly what to do; he felt so uncertain. They spoke of hoping for encounters with congregants and the opportunities to grow relationships. The senior librarian at Leo Baeck College gave a brilliant address, during which she reminded the congregation that becoming an accountant is very not like becoming a rabbi.
Because, she said, it is far more intimate, you are bound up with people constantly. The prospect of all those waiting relationships was daunting for each one of the ordinands. 23 years since my ordination I can say that it has been the best part of my role.
The great Civil Rights rabbi German/American Joachim Prinz reflected this understanding when he said, “You cannot be a rabbi unless you love people. You don’t have to like them, but you have to love all of them. [God] says, ‘Thou shalt love the neighbor as thyself.’ [God] doesn’t say, ‘Thou shalt like them.’ I have loved all the people with whom I’ve come into contact. Even those with whom I have disagreed and whom I have disliked because I think God wants us to love people.”
This week we read about the waters of Meribah where the children of Israel argued. They argued so badly that they ignored Moses grief for his sister’s death, they caused Moses and Aaron to lose their right to finish the task.
הֵ֚מָּה מֵ֣י מְרִיבָ֔ה אֲשֶׁר־רָב֥וּ בְנֵֽי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל
And we know as we read that disagreement is not the sign of indifference, as Prinz identified there can still be love there. And at the end of this story it strangely says as interpreted by Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz with these Hebrew words et vahev b’sufa” (Numbers 21:14) “In the end, there was love.”
That is at the heart of these stories and the ones in our own lives and communities.
Why vote?
I have studied attitudes to civic engagement with our teenagers this past month. Jewish tradition has a great deal to say on involving ourselves with the welfare of our cities and the wider community in which we live. As Jeremiah wrote in the 8th century BCE to his anxious and exiled people: But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you [into exile,] and pray to the Eternal on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare. [Jeremiah: 29:7]
This feels particularly apposite this week.
In a delightful twist of fate and time, our synagogue Annual General Meeting was booked for the day we will turn out to vote in our General Election. And the effects of living in a democratic society benefits us all.
Our community is a microcosm of our wider society. No organisation is sustained healthily without its members caring for it. In all the 12 years of my serving FPS, I have seen that demonstrated every day – a full, if miniature, democracy. On Thursday, I imagine we will feel similarly about the leadership of our local areas and the country at large.
In Mishnah Avot, we learn that Rabbi Hanina, the vice-high priest insisted: Pray for the welfare of the government, for were it not for the fear it inspires, every person would swallow their neighbour alive. We need good governance – we know what the alternative is – and we do more than pray for it. Thanks to our new BoD representative Tim Seyner-Harness, our community had access to a local hustings for the candidates for Finchley and Golders Green and those in neighbouring constituencies have had access too. It is deeply Jewish to care what happens around us – Lo Tuchal L’hitalem – Do not become indifferent, says the Book of Deuteronomy in Ki Teitzei.
I welcome this opportunity as you may also do. Do join us on Thursday evening – in between your voting and watching results for the General Election – by expressing your views on our synagogue, its plans and its governance. You are critical to that process too.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
There are sharp divisions between the Jewish people all over the world.
We might not yet call it a civil war, thank God, but the dissent between us is distressing.
I am not sure about the percentages but a large group of Jews are more, and maybe even exclusively, drawn to the suffering of Jews and the plight we are in; such is the trauma that it is impossible for them to see others’ suffering. The other group feels that pain but also deeply feels the responsibility and values of Jewish life threatened by the suffering unleashed on others. It is safe to say this is a profoundly difficult time for all of us, wherever we sit on that continuum. Dissent troubles us in the British Jewish community, even though our name means wrestling with God – Yisra (wrestle) El (God). I heard yesterday about families torn about these past 7 months or so – families not even caught up in the terrible troubles – just the mere act of talking and conversing has proved divisive and injurious.
In the Book of Esther study group, we have been reading with great interest this diaspora fairytale that speaks so acutely to the news right now.
There have always been passionate differences of views and as always, our Torah portion speaks to this, with the fractured response to those scouts who checked out the land for Moses and the people. The scouts produced bad reports about the land that they had seen (Numbers 13:32). The people began to panic, screaming and crying, and saying they wanted to go back to Egypt (Numbers 14:1). They even threaten to throw stones at anyone who tries to calm them down (Numbers 14:10).
I pray for us to keep talking, keep discussing and keep open to each other’s points of view, however challenging we may find them.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
I find the idea of complaining rather compelling. You may have seen the cartoon of a New York City Jewish restaurant table with three older women: “Is there anything else I can bring you to complain about?” the waiter asks them.
Complaining is often a pretext in our own lives for finding fault, creating negativity, avoiding gratitude and positivity. This is the scene we find in this week’s portion.
וַיְהִ֤י הָעָם֙ כְּמִתְאֹ֣נְנִ֔ים
The people were complaining.
Rashi suggests they were looking for a pretext a reason to fall out of favour, or out of connection, with God.
Complaining was a way of doing that. Recalling the plentiful food in Egypt allowed an amnesia of everything that came with the cucumbers, leeks and meat. They could be cross rather than assess their new situation out of Egypt, with less food but more freedom and safety. Instead, they complain.
The concept of complaining is complicated. Sometimes, it’s indulgent and self-serving. But sometimes, complaining is a form of protest and concern, raising alarms, seeking protection and calling to account. As a veteran complainer, I appreciate this reminder – that it is not only bad.
Last week, a group of parents of soldiers and combatants at the front line in Gaza wrote a letter of complaint (or beseeching perhaps) to the government. They joined with the hostage families critiquing their government’s policy of war and beseeching them for an end to hostilities and a deal that brings home their loved ones and ends the killing. We are out of time, they complained.
What a reminder that complaining can be powerful, heartfelt and hopeful.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Count all the congregation of the children of Israel, by families following their parents’ houses; a head count of every adult (of army age) so everyone is counted according to the names of their family.
As we begin the book of Numbers this week, we are reminded to count and be aware of everyone who is in the community – and it couldn’t be more appropriate for our congregation. We also begin this week with newly-received planning permission for our modest, but essential, renovations. This is momentous for us and confirms that we are truly in business. We have a final chunk to raise and will be doing so in earnest with a new Just Giving page and renewed energy for this Fundraising campaign.
We have raised £1.5 million. We need at least another £400,000.00 to ensure the building project can happen fully and include the repairs that we have recently discovered we must carry out to ensure the safety of our building. I am confident, as are the team working on this.
Our architects have gone out to tender; builders have been visiting and continue to do; we are planning when and how we will move out. There is much to arrange but it is exciting and every step confirms our belief in and love for FPS: looking after our Sifrei Torah; setting up Ivriah in our new Shabbat venue; organising where we will be for High Holy Days.
We think we will have all this information for you by next week.
There will be a new fundraising page so that we can share with family and friends and add our sponsored events. We will, we hope, have clear decisions as to when we are moving out and a detailed plan of where we will be for festivals, Shabbatot and all between.
In this week’s portion, as well as the counting and creating of this portable community, is the reference to packing up the Mishkan – Tabernacle – and travelling with it. That will be us in the Autumn and although daunting, it will be exciting too.
When the Tabernacle is set to travel, the Levites shall dismantle it; and when the Tabernacle camps, the Levites shall erect it.
Although our own James Levy, who is leading the Building Campaign, and many of our numbers may inherit the Levite clan and name, we know that for us Liberal Jews all are responsible for the synagogue, all that is in it, all that it offers and most of all, right now, all that it needs.
We definitely have holy work to do and I am looking forward to it.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
We are so delighted at FPS to have welcomed Student Rabbi James Feder to be our intern for the next 5 weeks. Please look out for learning opportunities with him – he’ll be leading services this Shabbat, as well as teaching with me at Delving into Judaism (our weekly Adult Ed class for all interested in learning more). He will also be leading Café Ivriah on 15th June, Navigating Communal Trauma: Re-Reading Psalm 23 after October 7th. He introduces himself below.
Shabbat Shalom.
“If you follow My laws and faithfully observe My commandments,” God promises in the opening verses of Parshat Behukotai, “I will grant your rains in their season.” I’ve only been here a few days, but if rain is the litmus test, it seems to me that God is certainly quite pleased with you — and I can see why! I’ve been so moved by the warm embrace I received upon joining FPS last Shabbat, and am really look
ing forward to spending the next month with you all.
Heading into my fifth and final year of rabbinical school at Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, Reform Judaism’s seminary in North America, I am so grateful to Rabbi Rebecca Birk for providing me this opportunity to experience the British Jewish community. In many ways, it feels like a homecoming. I spent five years living in the UK, earning an undergraduate degree from the University of St. Andrew’s and a postgraduate degree from the University of Glasgow. Since then, and before beginning rabbinical school, I spent two years working in LGBT journalism in New York City and four years directing communications for an international consortium of non-profits involved in Israeli-Palestinian conflict resolution. In 2018, I made aliyah to Israel, where I worked with one of the largest civil society organisations aiming to mobilise moderate Israelis in support of progressive causes.
When I’m not here, I’m based in in Brooklyn, New York, and study at HUC-JIR’s Manhattan campus. In the fall, I will be returning for a third year as the rabbinic intern for the amazing community at Temple Ner Tamid in Bloomfield, New Jersey. Among various honours and fellowships, I am a current fellow in the Tisch Fellowship Programme, which is led by Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman (himself a big fan of Liberal Judaism and FPS).
Having lived my life between the United States, the United Kingdom, and Israel, I have long said that I want to craft a rabbinate that is truly global. This feels like an important step towards realising that aim. I am so excited to learn from you, to pray with you, and to grow as a leader through our time together.
להתראות \ l’hitra-ot,
James Feder
‘That which has been is what will be, That which is done is what will be done, And there is nothing new under the sun,’
or as the contemporary translation offers for Ecclesiastes 1:9 History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new.
Usually, I find this line from Ecclesiastes very reassuring. Because it’s true – isn’t it?
May arrives and all of us, in the Northern hemisphere at least, prepare for the last term of the academic year. Our children sitting GCSEs and A levels learn to associate the exams with the smell of the grass being cut (and hay fever for some). If you live in Britain, then the advent of Spring gives an opportunity to talk about the weather, which we all seem to take up with alacrity. Spring brings English asparagus, cricket and renewed interest in our gardens. If you are at school – whether a teacher or a pupil, you go through the seasons. We teach our students that if you work hard, you do well. None of this ever really changes.
The familiarity of things coming in their expected seasons brings comfort. But underneath that sun, things are changing. 2023 is now officially understood have been the hottest year ever. For some of us, this year feels different, even as we navigate the expected patterns, and many feel a deeper absence of control. With our attention turned to Israel and Gaza, we miss the fact that our earth is changing and too often, crises of a different nature distract us from a responsibility here. Before he died, Stephen Hawking wrote “At night, the Earth is no longer dark, but huge areas lit up. All of this is evidence that human exploitation of the planet is reaching a critical limit.”
Next week’s portion, which is usually a double with this week’s, Leviticus, packages up the promise that we will go well with the land if we behave: if we keep God’s laws; if we abide by the statues and traditions we inherit. But this is manifestly untrue. We know this – life does not work so fairly and we have evidence of this everywhere we look.
If you follow My statutes and observe My commandments and perform them,
גאִם־בְּחֻקֹּתַ֖י תֵּלֵ֑כוּ וְאֶת־מִצְוֹתַ֣י תִּשְׁמְר֔וּ וַֽעֲשִׂיתֶ֖ם אֹתָֽם
I will give your rains in their time, the Land will yield its produce, and the tree of the field will give forth its fruit…And I will grant peace in the Land, and you will lie down with no one to frighten [you]; I will remove wild beasts from the Land, and no army will pass through your land;
I found an alternative midrash to these verses that help a little: the Aboriginal, deep seated proverb “Look after the land and it will look after you; destroy it and it will destroy you”.
During the first three years of my life, my father was in Darwin, working on his PHD in linguistics with an Aboriginal tribe. I know how close to Country they are and how much responsibility they feel for the earth.
As our plans firm and become focused for the much-needed renovations of the roof and our heating system, we are committed to a new way that is sustainable and responsible, enabling our synagogue to manifest those values.
So actually we can look to doing things a little differently and defy Ecclesiastes.
History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new.
We can do it better. I look forward to seeing what we can achieve together.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
This week has been for me the blueprint of a rabbi’s life.
The portion that falls this Shabbat is Emor, which describes in detail the marking of Jewish time – the dates and times of the festival year and all important Shabbat. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel famously wrote all about the power of Jewish time in his book The Sabbath – A Palace of Time. “In a very deep sense Judaism is a religion of time and …[t]he higher goal of spiritual living is not to amass a wealth of information, but to face sacred moments.”
He understood and I have seen it in action this week as a rabbi.
Festivals were critical in Torah but we also know the marking of personal milestones has become a deeply significant way of expressing our Judaism.
I can count key moments in my life – and some of yours too – by using Jewish blessing and tradition. This week, I led the funeral and Shivah of our beloved member Hélène D’âne and saw the comfort that is created by this Jewish time. I saw the power of marking Yom Zikaron/HaAtzmaut with three other local synagogues, as we did on Monday evening – many of us counting Jewish time and coming together to do so.
That is what we do – and it’s been comforting this week to be reminded of that. I’m counting the 49 days of the Omer with greater intensity this year; watching, waiting and witnessing feels necessary and natural right now, with all that is going on.
The writer Etgar Keret wrote this poem about his rabbit. But actually it’s about waiting. Many of us know what waiting can feel like in the darker moments of life and the counting of days.
Alive
Sometimes,
when I look at my rabbit
lounging on the living room rug,
he seems to be waiting for something.
It only looks like he’s waiting,
he’s living.
With me, by the way, it’s the opposite:
I’m always waiting for something,
it only looks like I’m alive.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
I recently noticed that the Quakers have come up with a new tagline: ‘Simple. Radical and Spiritual.’
In the 1930s, many Quakers were involved in kinder transport, sponsoring many children. Their concern for the outlier has not diminished. The Quakers still lead on refugee settlement and support. But they also lead on simple prayer and community.
I think a great deal about what it means to be Jewish right now. What three adjectives might any of us choose? I suspect we will go on thinking about this ad infinitum or l’ad olam in the Hebrew. Prayer, community, courage, action, kindness might be just a few we’d pick.
I’m writing these words on Yom HaShoah, having lit my yahrzeit candle and caught the National event. On the 3rd May 1960, 64 years ago, the Anne Frank House opened its doors to the public. I have taken many groups of Jewish children there and their response is always palpable. When I was a child, learning and talking about Anne Frank as a traditional Jewish woman was de rigueur in Orthodox synagogue’s Bat Chayil ceremonies on a Sunday afternoon-with no prayer leading. Now, I believe we want to honour the memories of Anne and her sister Margot and to teach our own children the gift and responsibility of their Judaism, to spur them to action and pride. I showed this extraordinary film of Ben Ferencz to anyone I could over this weekend. The legacy he leaves is so vivid right now.
So when this week’s portion K’doshim tells the Israelites – and us of course as we read it now, “You shall be holy, for I, the Eternal your God, am holy” (Leviticus 19:2), we consider what it means to be holy.
Parashat K’doshim teaches that it’s impossible to separate decent relations between humans from the commandments between a person and their God.
It’s all the same.
Harming or insulting a person is the same as harming or insulting the image of God in that person; therefore, it is harming or insulting to God. Embezzling public money is no different from embezzling that which is holy to God. The reason to “be holy” is because “I, the Eternal your God, am holy.” The holiness of God requires that we lead a thoughtful, sacred life. Part of that is bearing witness to the past, the present and our futures, including today’s recent escalations in Rafah. Let Ben Ferencz show you how.
I cannot say enough how important the concert will be at FPS on 19th May when we will mark Yom HaShoah this year together; as a community there are many stories and connections that we need to hear as well as the music that will accompany. Please join us. I’m proud that we are hosting this.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
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