Thirty years ago my life was changed, I am certain, by the bagel. Not one in particular but the plethora of bagel shops, of knish stands and various Jewish food stuffs available, alongside casual use of Yiddish expressions I encountered everywhere in Boston, where I studied for my Masters of Theology, and in my frequent trips to New York City. Even more surprising, far from encountering a majority Orthodox community, I had the mind-opening experience of Progressive Judaism (known as Reform there) being the largest, most confident of all the Jewish denominations. I was deeply impressed by its confidence and courage as it engaged with contemporary life and brought Jewish tradition to the fore in an open and engaging way. It inspired my journey to the rabbinate.
Now, 23 years a rabbi, I am watching a new moment in British Jewry that will change our Jewish landscape. The coming together of Reform and Liberal to co-create Progressive Judaism will amplify our voice, increase our numbers and broaden what it means to be Jewish and concerned and engaged in modern life. By December 2025, it will be a reality and far from interfering with our individual synagogues, it will support them.
I sit on the Advisory Board as we do this work and think deeply about what is being built. Chair of the Board, Dr Ed Kessler, describes it as “the most significant moment in British Jewry since the war.” It is. The practical concerns, of course, are taking much focus but so are the theological and ideological values. Progressive Judaism will be accessible, meaningful and brave. Already we share the belief that, as Deuteronomy 30 promised, this thing, this ‘Jewishness’, is close to our mouths and our hearts to do it. We know that justice and courage is as dear to us as the custom of Shabbat. We know that expanding the narrow definitions of Jewish identity will continue to be at the heart of what we do.
We Rabbis and Cantors are asking ourselves critical questions. What does it mean to be a Progressive (non Orthodox) Jew in Britain today? What does it demand of us? What are we progressing from and towards? And what about God in this new movement? What will change? How diverse can our views be on Israel and Jewish identity and still remain one movement? I am intrigued to see how we answer these questions together, with integrity as we become this bigger, more impactful Progressive family.
Jewish life emanates mostly from our homes, our families and our synagogues, where we raise our children or count significant life events. This new movement will support our congregations.
When our children see ‘their rabbis’ on the national stage, as Rabbis Charley Baginsky and Josh Levy represent us at Downing Street, the Cenotaph and Parliament, it will make a difference to the confidence and possibility of Progressive Judaism being taken seriously. Representation is key.
These next twelve months will be exciting for all of us and for our synagogues. It is the perfect backdrop to our own plans and dreams for our home of FPS.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Even with the tiny kernel of hope this week that a cessation of fighting and aggression might be possible, we are hardened to war around us, both in Israel and beyond.
War is, unfortunately, good at bringing out stereotyping and depersonalising peoples and groups. We have seen a stark increase of hatred and hostility in our lives and experiences this past year or so. The Torah portion this week introduces Jacob and Esau, the brothers positioned against each other in Torah and even more so in rabbinic commentary. Esau is portrayed as an “ish yode’a tzayid ish sadeh,” a skilful hunter, a man of the fields, and Jacob as an “ish tam yoshev ohalim,” an innocent man who sits in tents (Genesis 25:27). Midrash plays on these tropes, Esau as aggressive other/foreigner and Jacob as innocent Hebrew, and it builds on these generalisations of all who come from Esau (Edomites, foreigners, becoming Christians in some versions) to be wary of, whilst Jacob becomes a critical ancestor and even gives us our name.
Rabbi Shimon Bar Yoḥai’s painful pronouncement in the midrash is that “It is a known halachah that Esau hates Jacob” (Sifrei 69:2). This is a very unhelpfully definitive statement. We don’t have to look very far to see the harm of persistent generalisations and how they inhibit a true understanding of others.
On Monday I visited Somerset House and saw Es Devlin’s https://www.somersethouse.org.uk/whats-on/es-devlin-face-face-50-encounters-strangers exhibition Face To Face: 50 Encounters with Strangers, as she paints them and tells their story. All have one thing in common: they have come from somewhere else seeking refuge. It’s a powerful exhibition and a reminder these days how easy it is not to see people as individuals and make assumptions and judgements about them, who they are and what they believe.
It started with our own biblical stories. I welcome the reminder to challenge these assumptions by reading the story of Esau and Jacob carefully, without buying in to a hatred that might just not exist as clearly as we might assume.
London is quite a city and all of us who live here have a story to tell of how that happened. I like the unlikely bedfellows of this week’s Parashat Toldot, this exhibition of Strangers and even Claude Monet’s paintings of the Thames (also there at the Courtauld Gallery).
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
The Parable of the Old Man and the Young
So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps,
and builded parapets and trenches there,
And stretchèd forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.
As we move from last week’s story of the Akeidah, falling as it did in remembrance season, I can’t resist this poem from Wilfred Owen, which feels alive right now as we witness yet more war and death. This week, I am watching those close to me mourn the most tragic and sudden death. It is heartbreaking, especially when children are suffering. As usual, we surround with the supportive and helpful rituals we have inherited in our Jewish lives. But simultaneously we feel the fragility of life and the closeness and horror of unexpected death.
I have always found this week’s Torah portion speaks so strongly to grief and the impossible reminder that there exists only a hair’s breadth of distance between life and death. Parshat Chayei Sarah, ‘Sarah’s Life,’ opens by immediately announcing Sarah’s life span and then, abruptly, her death. Although no reason is given explicitly, the connection to the previous narrative is implicit. Many commentators, Rashi most of all, link her dying to the Akeidah. Rashi explains: ‘The death of Sarah follows the binding of Isaac, because through hearing of it – that her son has been made ready for slaughter and had almost died – her soul flew from her and she expired.’
The wonderful commentator, Dr Aviva Gottlieb Zornberg, explains that life hangs by a thread each and every day for every single one of us. Some might feel closer to death than others of us, perhaps because of age, illness or disposition, but the truth is that we all stand one breath away from our last breath of life. There is almost nothing, just a hair, that separates living from dying.
We all feel deeply and because of that, life and its transitions are impossibly hard. Like Abraham and Sarah, some manage to make sense of it all. Sarah couldn’t and Abraham did:
“Abraham was old, well advanced in years, and God had blessed Abraham with everything…Abraham breathed his last and died at a good age, old and satisfied, and he was gathered to his people.”
Biblical narrative is, as Erich Auerbach said, “fraught with background,” meaning that much of the story is left unstated, and so it is in our own lives, our own grieving and our own observations.
On Friday 29 November the assisted dying bill will be discussed and voted on in the House of Commons. Many of us have strong opinions on this matter. One of those is Lord Danny Finkelstein a committed Liberal Jew and member of The Ark synagogue. He will be in conversation at FRS (around the corner) Thursday 21st November. He joins Dr Jane Neerkin, Consultant in End of Life Care at University College London Hospital and *Mr Paul Blomfield, Chairman of the Dignity in Dying Board. Our local MP Sarah Sackman will be there also.
Our Jewish tradition has much to say on the value of human life and the control we have over it and I look forward to a Cafe Ivriah discussion on Saturday 23rd November 10am to share medical views and Jewish learning. Do book in with the details below for the event on Thursday 21st. I am away this week with Liberal Rabbinic and Cantorial Colleagues on retreat and look forward to seeing you on Shabbat.
Rebecca
We have just arrived into the month of Cheshvan, traditionally in the Ashkenazi world the month with no holidays. In the States, I have seen rabbis and Jewish professionals wearing t-shirts embroidered with ‘I ♥️ Heshvan.’ Everyone needs a pass, a breath from the intensity of synagogue and the festivals of Tishri. We have properly installed ourselves in this New Year of 5785.
Rather unbelievably as a community, we have installed ourselves as guests in all the temporary homes in which we’ve been dwelling.
It’s good for the soul being a guest, being aware of the footprints we leave and of what it’s like to be a visitor. Much is written in Jewish tradition about welcoming guests, Hachnasat Orchim, but very little about being one. If we learn this during these 40 weeks, it will be a good thing. Our Mitzvah Day work will be with the Quakers, tending their garden at QMH, planting bulbs, polishing their benches and mending. It feels like such an excellent opportunity to say thank you to hosts, who are accepting no money, and loan us their space as an act of kindness and solidarity. This is precious in these times. Join us at QMH Friday 22nd November 4pm onwards.
Our focus is now on us, sustaining and thriving through these months in new and different ways. Now with our new building blog, you can track our progress over in Hutton Grove here.
As things quieten, please know that I am around, both at QMH and from my home. I remain available and energetic as always. Look out for the events our fabulous Council have been creating for eating, drinking (whiskey tasting) and just being together. Last week we had such an excellent session with Yachad at the home of Alex and Marcus Rebuck look out for our next Havdalah discussion at the home of Robin Heller and John Golding on Saturday 16th November 3-4.30pm.
This week’s Torah portion is Lech Lecha, meaning Go, Yourself. These are the words God spoke to Sarah and Abraham, known as the first Jews, who were told to leave all that was familiar and journey to somewhere that would be good for them. Genesis 12 describes them as packing up, rather as we packed all the possessions we had acquired, as well as the people they had made in Charan. Rashi adds a comment that this included all the souls they inspired to conversion. This is why those who choose Judaism take the name ben or bat Avraham v’Sarah, son or daughter of Abraham and Sarah.
This gathering of souls has been, and will continue to be, a synagogue priority.
If you are needing more connection, please let me or Caroline know. Nurturing souls is very much our business too.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Watch yourselves that you do not become seduced by your desire to dominate and possess, destroying the work of Creation. For then, the Source of Creation will turn against you, and the world in which you live will no longer sustain you, and you will be lost upon the face of the earth which the Creator has provided for you.
Make these words part of your understanding and spirit, bind them to witness the works of your hands, see through them as they focus the image before your eyes, teach them to your children, discuss them at home, on the road, before your sleep and when you wake…
This alternative translation of the Shema by Rabbi David Cooper calls to mind this week’s portion, Noach, and the obligation to consider our part in the earth’s fragility. I welcome this reminder.
So much can compete for the prime place of concern in our hearts and minds right now but the earth so deserves its place. We need an opportunity to reflect on that. It is so easy to prioritise pressing dilemmas and current suffering and continue to kick our concern for Creation into the long grass.
Perhaps consider what in your life you might add or subtract to recommit to this consciousness of our place here.
Wishing you Shabbat Shalom on this Autumnal day,
Rebecca
Goodness. Here we are, at the end of the month of Tishri with Simchat Torah, our last festival and often the most intense, as we finish the cycle of Torah with the last words of Deuteronomy and begin again with Genesis. It is always a wrench to let go of the month of festivals of the narrative arc that sees us beginning with Rosh Hashanah, through the ten days of reflection, out into the physicality of Sukkot and then finally, this moment of Torah.
Rashi, on Leviticus 23:36, suggests the end of Sukkot – Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah – is rather like a king who invites his children to a celebration for a certain number of days. When the time comes to depart, he says, “My children, I beg of you, linger with Me another day; your parting is difficult for Me.”
I understand that.
Me’or Einayim was an 18th century Ukrainian Chasidic commentator. He suggests Torah is meaningful to us because it’s like a mirror to our own lives and we will always find something that resonates – and so we will this year.
In a way, we have held our collective breaths since last Simchat Torah 5784. Maybe you remember that Saturday morning, as I do, and the quick decisions we had to make to adjust our service as the news came in from Israel. But we have navigated this year together.
It has been intense for those of us working as ‘professional’ Jews but also, actually, for anyone who identifies Jewishly. We have all carried it. This week we have planned carefully to ensure we mark this ending sensitively, adjusting to this most significant of anniversaries.
Wednesday evening will be joyful for our children and families. We honour Natasha Kafka and Sarah Wendy Burman as our Kallot of Torah and Bereshit, so we’d love all their students to celebrate them there with chocolate and singing.
Thursday morning, also with Sarah Wendy and Natasha, will be more solemn, as we manage Yizchor and the cycles of life and Torah.
I so look forward to seeing you there, at SPS, for our last Autumn festival.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Some of us are carried kicking and screaming into the next festival of Sukkot, known as “z’man simchateinu,” or “season of our joy.” After the profundity of Yom Kippur and the balancing it offers, it’s hard, and even a little abrupt, to be told to be immediately joyful.
We are literally mandated to feel, not even just to express, joy. FirstTorah [the Deuteronomist] declares a few times “you shall rejoice” (Deut. 16:14) and then: “You shall have nothing but joy” or said another way, “You shall be exceedingly joyous“ (Deut. 16:15).
I have struggled a little with this commandment and thus insistence to feel joyous – who likes being told to cheer up or to smile when they are not joyful?
Yet this year, I am thinking of what I shared with you on Yom Kippur. If a funeral procession and a wedding procession met, the wedding would take precedence over the mourning. Indeed, the family service ark at Sha’arei Tsedek had engraved the words from Psalm 100 Ivdu et Adonai b’simcha – Worship God with joy.
So here it is – our chance to do just that. Even those of us who aren’t building a sukkah [this year] needn’t miss the physicality of this festival, eating under the stars and rain, if necessary. Waving the lulav, smelling the extra special scent of the etrog always feels so welcome. I am determined to allow the physicality of Sukkot to be something special this year, although we won’t have our own sukkah at FPS – we will share one at SPS. I intend to enjoy walking in nature and to make time to do so. Even if you don’t have a lulav at home, feel the benefit of your autumn garden and the air. That’s what it’s asking of us. Feel it and be alive.
Rabbi Yitz Greenberg, an unusual and brilliant Orthodox Rabbi in New York, writes in his new book, “Only those who know the fragility of life can truly appreciate the full preciousness of every moment… The release from Yom Kippur leads to the extraordinary outburst of life that is Sukkot.”
Enjoy the outburst and hold onto the balance. Chag Sukkot Sameach!
Join us for a family [but for everyone] relaxed Erev Sukkot service at SPS. I’ll be leading and then Thursday morning Rabbi Danny Rich and I will share the service and all it offers us in this take on joy. Kiddush will be important too! Then it will be Dean’s last Resouled on Friday 18th and our Chol HaMo’ed (intervening festival days) service on Shabbat morning.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Days are scrolls; write on them what you want to be remembered – Bahya Ibn Pakuda, a scholar and mystic in 11th century Spain who wrote a book, ‘Duties of the Heart.’
During this period through our Days of Awe, but particularly these ten days of tshuvah, we are invited to create a chesbon hanefesh, an accounting of our souls. it is a spectacular piece of agency that reminds us we also have choice in how we will be, how we react and how we act. We will have time to respond to this invitation in our Shiur on Yom Kippur.
I’m reminded of this in our small exchanges as well as in the big intentions we set for ourselves, and not least in how we negotiate our Jewish lives.
Monday was the anniversary of that devastating Shabbat, October 7th. Some of us attended the vigil in Hyde Park on Sunday. I listened to the radio for much of the day. A most respected colleague was speaking and our own Karen Werth, from Nottingham Liberal Synagogue, talked so eloquently about how to be in the face of unimaginable brutality and fear here in the UK and reminded us to choose hope and connectedness.
On Monday evening, we shared a service with Crouch End Chavurah and Southgate Progressive Synagogue. Over 125 crammed into the space we had created with dimmed lights and one yahrzeit candle that held so much grief and so many memories. It was a strong moment for all who attended. Marian Fixler shared a haiku after:
We gather to mourn
Witnessing our grief and pain
The space to just feel.
We acknowledged the line from Ecclesiastes, that there is a time for everything under the sun. Monday was a time to mourn and bear witness to the particular atrocities of that day and the repercussions that flowed from it – the death and mourning and not least the families still waiting painfully for their loved ones to come home. We spoke of the 101 hostages still there as well as those murdered and still not home for burial. We talked of the soldiers on active duty. We acknowledged the extraordinary acts of bravery from individuals that day. We remembered the loyalty and courage of the Bedouin community in the South, who responded by helping and saving several. But what really spoke to was the grief we all felt.
A midrash recalls that Just as when a single walnut is taken from the pile, all of them collapse and roll onto one another, the same is true of the Jewish people: if one of them is stricken, all of them feel it. Phillipa Carr, one of our members, works for JAMI and wanted to share these extraordinary videos as we all navigate talking about the 7th October, about the conflict and our reactions. Do take advantage of these for you, your children, for school, work and a myriad of occasions. Click here to access.
I wish you Gmar Chatimah Tovah – and truly, may we all find and recognise ourselves ‘written in the Book of Life,’ feeling open and ready for our Yom Kippur services. We will be back at Shaarei Tzedek (there is easy parking within 5/10 minutes of the synagogue). Our services will run all day and the shiur discussion will be a quiet spot for chevruta-partner and small group learning. I hope it will be a strong and meaningful day for us all. We need it. Especially now.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Tonight brings in Rosh Hashanah. It is not the New Year we might have wanted or expected. Nonetheless, it’s ours. The fear and trembling that Iran’s attack on Israel has unleashed will be around our tables tonight. Yet we still believe that Rosh Hashanah has huge promise for us. HaYom HArat Olam is another name, this day is the birthday of the world but actually the Hebrew really suggests pregnancy and possibility – of the world and what it can be.
Yom HaZikaron
Rosh Hashanah is also known as the Day of Remembering – R. Eliyahu Ki Tov, in his Book of Jewish Awareness, calls on God who remembers all that is forgotten. May we take seriously our task to remember. May the hostages be freed and fighting end. May safety and security be assured for all and a dignified life be restored in Gaza.
Yom HaDin
The Day of judgement – may we bring our reflective observations with us as we look closely at our own hearts and souls in these first ten days of the year.
Yom T’ruah
May the shofar, sounded this year by both David Hoffman and Ian Kafka, wake us and pull us into a New Year of hope and justice.
May we make this year a good year, filled with sweetness and goodness here in our own homes and community. May our adventure out of the building be easy and interesting. May we be healthy and able to access gratitude in this New Year of 5784.
Shanah Tovah – wishing you a sweet healthy and strong new year.
Rebecca
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