I loved Robert Harris’s Conclave — and the film too. What stayed with me was the narrative (whether real or imagined) that those who seek leadership with overt ambition are often not the ones ultimately chosen. Instead, leadership falls to those for whom it comes almost as a surprise, those who are reluctant to seek the limelight. It’s intriguing watching the array of leaders who cross our path, be they a new Prime Minister for us here, or teachers, or rabbis. I know our new Chair Michael Lassman is currently assembling a team to think about what FPS most values in its rabbi and the whole congregation will be asked for their thoughts.
Walking the path between confidence and humility is something most of us do every day, as we navigate work, relationships and life itself. In the Musar tradition, anavah (ענווה), usually translated as humility, is not about thinking less of yourself. Rather, it is about seeing yourself truthfully and taking up your rightful place, neither shrinking from nor exaggerating your own importance. One of the clearest teachings comes from Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, who describes humility as the opposite of self-importance, not the absence of self-worth.
This week’s Parashat Eikev sees Moses offering much the same lesson: be careful not to assume that all the good in your life is entirely your own doing. Be vigilant, lest your heart grow haughty.
I find myself reflecting on this a great deal, especially right now. What contributes to our success and our happiness, both in work and in life? When should we allow ourselves to be proud of our achievements, and when should we recognise the people, opportunities and circumstances that have made them possible?
These feel like fitting questions as we begin the slow journey towards the High Holy Days, during these weeks of consolation following Tisha B’Av.
Shabbat shalom,
Rebecca
We are moving house today. It is indeed a big week of changes. I am thinking deeply about what it signifies to leave the home I created as a sanctuary for the children and me eleven years ago. In fact, I recall FPSers Melvyn and CA Newman, and Hugh and Doreen Isaacs planting fruit trees for us as soon as we arrived.
During weddings, I often describe that the home is a Mikdash Me’at, literally a small sanctuary, a carved-out copy of the original temple and, therefore, a smaller place of security, holiness and safety. We all try to make our homes feel this way for whoever lives in them.
No-one likes change — at least I don’t — and several of you have told me this week that you don’t either. Yet it is ever-present.
Of course, it would be this week that parashat V’etchanan introduces the Shema, those words etched on our hearts that we teach our children and use so firmly to mark our passageways. How is it possible that Torah echoes life so exquisitely?
The prayer is actually a passage from Deuteronomy 6 that we will read this Shabbat. This translation by Rabbi Janet Burden is so beautifully evocative of making Jewish passageways – both big shifts and smaller domestic movements – throughout our lives:
“These words… repeat them faithfully to your children, [and others’ children]; just as you speak them when you are at home, speak of them in the wider world. Let them guide your hands and focus your vision, both when you take your rest and when you rise each day. Write them on your doors and on your gates, that they may frame your passages through life.”
I love these words and I am taking them into our new home alongside our new mezuzot.
I pray that our new home will be a mikdash me’at for all seven of us who will live there. I hope the 4th and 5th commandments (honouring parents and celebrating Shabbat) will be manifest from every corner of the house. I hope we will feel a sense of homecoming as well as ease. I hope for many Shabbat dinners, lunches, and afternoons and a plethora of Shehecheyanu opportunities of newness, from the placing of our mezuzah to our first Rosh Hashanah here. I hope to welcome many of you through our front door and continue the connections that mean so much to us.
Shabbat shalom,
Rebecca
Eleh hadevarim — “these are the words.” This is how the final book of the Torah begins: with words that recount the life and journey of our people, everything that unfolded as they travelled, their entry into the covenant at Sinai and their becoming a people. The Book of Deuteronomy is entirely about repetition, reminding us of the experiences and stories that occurred throughout the Torah.
I love this focus on repeating; because truthfully repetition is a constant theme in all of our lives. Indeed, we spend our years rehearsing so much, revisiting the same experiences and getting to hopefully do things better and make things easier as they come around again and again. As the Hasidic teachers frequently remind us, the Torah reverberates for each individual in every generation. And so, this repetition lives in the heart and mind of each of us.
We have just begun the month of Av, which is considered a time of grief, as it includes Tisha B’Av, the day of mourning for all Jewish losses from the destruction of the Temples onward. Each year, it offers us an opportunity to assess the fragility of the world, as well as our own losses and frailties.
Where were we last year? How are we this year? What has changed? But we know the repetition of life gives occasion for good, as well as challenging, moments. This Shabbat marks the final week of Ivriah before the end of term. It celebrates another year of our children’s learning. It also brings a new Council for us at FPS, a chance to honour our past Chair, Beverley Kafka, and a summer BBQ to give us all an opportunity to simply be together and begin our Summer in each other’s company.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
This portion, loved by so many, tells the story of the daughters of Zelophehad: Mahlah (מַחְלָה), Noah (נֹעָה), Hoglah (חָגְלָה), Milcah (מִלְכָּה), and Tirzah (תִרְצָה). The five sisters, when their father died, realised there was no male heir. They wanted to inherit his name, his wealth and his familial legacy.
This was uncharted territory. It was an audacious ask but they were prepared, they drew close. All five were ready and able to speak. That is why the Netziv of Volozhin, the nineteenth-century Russian rabbi and commentator, says that the text goes to the trouble of telling us that the daughters stood before Moses and Eleazar and the princes. They each spoke to all of them.
And amazingly, they persuaded them all: Moses, Eleazar, the princes and, most importantly, God, who responds, “The words of the daughters of Zelophehad are right.”
This moment of bibl
ical change is a significant part of our tradition. It emboldened those in subsequent generations. Last week, together with my colleagues, I celebrated twenty-five years since our ordination. I was inspired to become a rabbi by following in the footsteps of the first woman rabbi, Regina Jonas, who was ordained in 1935, and then Rabbi Jackie Tabick here in the UK in 1975, along with the many women who followed and made it possible for me to enter Leo Baeck College in 1996 and be ordained in 2001 (photo above). Last Friday, we received our fellowship marking a quarter of a century in the rabbinate (photo below). The poet Melanie Kaye/Kantrowitz wrote in her 1990s poem about women, “Let my people in.”
Change is welcome – and this Shabbat, we are ready for a Pride service tonight to celebrate all those LGBTQIA+ Jews who are now so fully welcomed and able to participate in and lead our communities. I am so thankful for audacious people like these daughters, who stepped out of line and asked for more and, in so doing, expanded our Judaism.
Long may that continue.
🌈 Shabbat Shalom 🌈
Rebecca
Shabbat is about joy. Our tradition schools us about reaching for relaxation and joy during Shabbat. We will get there this week and we will celebrate our wonderful Bat Mitzvah, Lilibeth, this weekend as she deserves. But first we must navigate this.
Right now we are hurting as a community. We operate as a kehillah, a community, by being so closely linked to 
each other as we join in each other’s joys and sorrows. So it is with great sadness I have been sharing the news that our beloved and hugely charismatic Lesley Urbach was taken ill last Friday and died last night. Lesley was a woman in her prime and we are not ready for this in any way.
Lesley was the finest of women, hugely loved, amazing in her energy and commitment to building a better, fairer world. She has been responsible for so much here at FPS, for making us a Synagogue of Sanctuary, not just for the guests we welcome but in looking after our own as well and in ensuring our congregation is a safe and loving place. Lesley could often be found in the kitchen after kiddush, and playing Scrabble on a Tuesday afternoon. She was the link between us and HIAS JCORE, as well as leading our Welfare group and being editor of Shofar with her friend, Sheila King-Lassman. Her magnum opus is the outstanding charity G2G that she created with friends and partners in crime Sharman Berwald, Bernice Krantz, and Helen Stone, to ensure the legacies of Holocaust survivors will be carried forward, narrated by family members to sustain their witness. Many such families are within FPS. Fiercely moral, she abhorred the idea of being a bystander and not standing up for justice and righteousness.
Such a shock within our tight-knit community has been devastating for so many of us. We operate as an extended family; members of our family matter. So forgive me acknowledging this ahead of Shabbat when, as she’d want, we will meet joyfully, with wine and joy, ready to be proud of the coming of age of our young person.
In this week’s Parashat Balak, after the wisdom of his talking donkey, Balaam offers a blessing rather than a curse over the Israelites and it’s a blessing that has migrated from Torah into our liturgy. We offer it every week:
Mah Tovu Ohalecha Ya’acov mishkonetecha Yisrael
How beautiful are your tents O Jacob and your dwelling places O Israel.
May we be worthy of this blessing.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rebecca
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
– – –
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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