וְעַתָּ֕ה הִנֵּ֛ה צַעֲקַ֥ת בְּנֵי־יִשְׂרָאֵ֖ל בָּ֣אָה אֵלָ֑י וְגַם־רָאִ֙יתִי֙ אֶת־הַלַּ֔חַץ אֲשֶׁ֥ר מִצְרַ֖יִם לֹחֲצִ֥ים אֹתָֽם׃
Now the cry of the Israelites has reached Me; moreover, I have seen how the Egyptians oppress them. (Ex 3:9)
This week we begin the book of Shemot, Exodus. The story of liberation and the empathy that comes from it is our Jewish story – our leitmotif, if you like, that characterises us and our footprint in this world.
We come back to it again and again, we have known suffering and liberation. And I find myself thinking of our place here, in Britain as Jews, as we begin 2025.
Someone who works in government for an MP reflected, as he was talking to me, about the fact that so many of the British Jewish events over Chanukah had speakers from the Israel Embassy. This created some confusion.
It’s a conundrum that I discussed with our BoD Representatives. The Jewish community goes to great lengths to teach and explain that no Jew should be equated with, or have to explain or justify, Israel policy or governmental decisions.
Jews of Britain in the Diaspora have their own, separate, identity. It’s that which I am concerned with right now – and ensuring that exists for us all. Of course, every Jew has their own personal relationship with Israel, perhaps with family there, as well having perspectives on what is happening.
This seems relevant for this Shabbat when we first encounter the Exodus story that has marked us as Jews. On Shabbat afternoon, we have another Havdalah event and conversation, as we have been offering for the past year – we will talk about the connections and disconnects around this topic. Where are you? Being a Jew right now – what is required of us and what do we require?
Shabbat Shalom and see you soon,
Rebecca
This Shabbat will be Maurice Needleman’s yahrzeit. Maurice was a long-time member of FPS. He lived with his parents until they died and then, with support, stayed in his own home until the end of his life. Paul Silver Myer remembers him walking hand in hand to synagogue with his father. Peggy Sherwood and Alison Rees told me when they visited FPS and saw how Maurice was loved and cared for here, they knew it was the congregation for them.
It is only us, his congregation, who will recall his yahrzeit and say kaddish in his memory.
He loved the portion Parashat Vayechi because Joseph introduced his sons to Jacob, his father. On a Friday night, all Jewish sons are blessed with the names Menasseh and Ephraim. To boys we say May you be like Ephraim and Menasheh and to girls, May you be like Sarah, Rebekah, Leah and Rachel. Maurice loved the melody Dean wrote for this blessing.
Jewish tradition has always asked why our boys do not get blessed in the names of the patriarchs, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, but rather in the names of Jacob’s grandsons. Maurice loved answering this question at kiddush. There is a variety of reasons. It’s fascinating that the children from the mixed family of Joseph and the Egyptian Asenath have become the blueprint for our own boys. I love this inclusiveness. However, the most compelling reason offered is that they were the only brothers in Torah who never fought but accepted the shift of blessing, the younger going before the older.
On that day, he blessed them and said, “With your names will the Israelites invoke God’s blessings on their sons, saying to them, ‘May God make you like Ephraim and Manasseh,’” mentioning Ephraim’s name before that of Manasseh. (48:20)
I think about Maurice this week and how much he loved, and was loved by, FPS. He used to say that his two great loves were FPS and the land of Israel and he split all his inheritance split between us – his was our first major legacy – and Israel. His Israel legacy went to the Leo Baeck Centre in Haifa, the school we have since supported, that cares for those of Jewish Israeli and Ethiopian origin, as well as Palestinian and Druze families.
Maurice’s legacy to us was a seed fund to kick start our building works, to which so many of you have added. Even more than his gift, Maurice left to us the memory that synagogue communities can act like family and ensure that those without their own family can find friendship, care and belonging right inside them.
The book of Genesis finishes this week and Orlanna, our Bat Mitzvah, will lead us in Chazak Chazak, V’NitChazeik, Strength, Strength and Let Us be Strengthened.
I look forward to that spirit of love, concern and community continuing from strength to strength.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
There is a line in this week’s portion that moves me every time I read Parashat Vayigash, which is usually at this time of year.
וְלֹֽא־יָכֹ֨ל יוֹסֵ֜ף לְהִתְאַפֵּ֗ק לְכֹ֤ל הַנִּצָּבִים֙ עָלָ֔יו
וַיִּתֵּ֥ן אֶת־קֹל֖וֹ בִּבְכִ֑י וַיִּשְׁמְע֣וּ מִצְרַ֔יִם וַיִּשְׁמַ֖ע בֵּ֥ית פַּרְעֹֽה:
Joseph could not restrain himself in the presence of all the people standing around him… He broke out into loud weeping; the Egyptians heard it and all Pharaoh’s household heard it as well.
We see the emotional fragility of Joseph as he encounters his brothers again. The complexity of what he feels for family breaks his heart open and he literally can’t control himself.
I think about this at these moments when families gather. This time of year can be wonderful but also challenging. One is either celebrating the surfeit of family ease and connection, or perhaps grieving its deficit. Sometimes it’s a combination of both, as Joseph seems to be experiencing. You can’t always be at ease with the family you inherit. You can’t always be just angry or just loving.
So many – including those among us – have complicated familial stories that make times of enforced togetherness all the more complicated. Some create new family with friends as well as relatives – that’s what the biblical Joseph did with Asenath in his new home of Egypt, even as he longed for his family of origin.
The writer Armistead Maupin wrote;
Sooner or later, though, no matter where in the world we live, we must join the diaspora, venturing beyond our biological family to find our logical one, the one that actually makes sense for us.
Logical Family: A Memoir, Transworld 2017
I’ve seen our synagogue community offer that logical family to many who walk through our doors.
This Shabbat, we celebrate our Emeritus Rabbi Frank Hellner and Valerie Boyd-Hellner as they mark special birthdays with much family around them – the 6 children they share, who grew up here at FPS, and multiple grandchildren, daughters- and sons-in-law. It will be, I imagine, a precious reunion with only happy tears, unlike Joseph’s.
Frank and Valerie have probably become logical family for many in our congregation over the years, which is of course a deep expression of love.
All are warmly encouraged to join us on Shabbat.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
As the American poet William Stafford once put it years ago— ‘the darkness around us is deep.’
And it is for us all. We are challenged right now as Jews in many ways with all that is happening both in Israel and beyond and of course here on our doorsteps.
Lighting the Chanukiah; bringing light to a great deal of darkness feels not just advisable but necessary. In a declaration of Jewish identity we are told to light our Chanukah candles in the windows of our homes, the more Chanukiot per household the better. Talking with our B’nei Mitzvah families there is a nervousness of such candid declarations of Jewishness whether in Enfield, Wood Green, Kilburn or even Finchley. Being asked to consider this is the task of December as Chanukah and Christmas coincide so precisely. For our mixed families perhaps it makes the season easier or maybe harder as they make choices. Whichever way the bank holidays and closing down gives a chance to retreat from daily life (and the news) and rededicate to what matters, which is the real meaning of Chanukah.
I am laid up after foot surgery. Indeed I bought our copious (the children expect hundreds) chocolate coins in November! So our Chanukiot and candle lighting will be extra specially welcome for me during this period.
Wishing you much peace and possibility in your lighting this year and hope to see you at our community moments together. (See below)
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
Sometimes, events far away can touch one deeply.
Yesterday, I talked to Alaa Alibrahim, one of our Syrian friends, who escaped the war in 2016. Alaa, a trained pharmacist and fluent English speaker, came with his wife and daughter. He settled in Barnet under the Vulnerable Person Relocation Scheme with the help of Finchley Progressive Synagogue, who led the campaign to persuade Barnet Council to accept 50 refugees fleeing Syria. You might remember Leader of Council Richard Cornelius on our Bimah, Sukkot 2015, agreeing to our ask.
Three weeks ago, Alaa came to talk with a group of FPS folk at a Havdalah and conversation event Shabbat afternoon. We were speaking about the war in Israel, Gaza and beyond, as well as about his memories of arriving at FPS. He told us he was excited to meet us because his family in their villages in the Syrian parts of Golan heights had profound gratitude for Israel, who came to their aid repeatedly with medical help and food, when Assad had abandoned his citizens.
In this extraordinary week, we spoke about the relief, jubilation and uncertainty there is following the fall of Bashar Al Assad, the architect of such horrific suffering in Syria. Alaa also spoke of his worry of Israel’s arrival into Syria and what it might mean and of the tension growing – the IDF are currently in his uncle’s farm and the family are not permitted to leave their home. The world is small. We all are fearful of what may and could happen.
This week’s Torah portion Parashat Vayishlach shows Jacob continuing his journey, now with wives and children in tow, spending one night alone where he wrestles with an angel; it could have been a strange assailant or even just with himself. As a result, his name is changed from Jacob to Yisrael – the one who wrestles with God. This name has been our legacy as Jews, as it is for the country of Israel, which also bears this name.
Right now, this wrestling has a deeper meaning than ever. I pray for ease, for compassion and for each of our souls as ‘wrestlers with God’.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
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
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