Words From The Rabbi

This month we will be celebrating Israel’s 70th birthday. Those who went out with ecstasy onto the streets of Tel Aviv to celebrate her birth in 1948 were unsure whether they would be dancing at her first birthday. Yet, seventy years later, and Israel is an island of economic, social and military stability in the very volatile region of the Middle East. I was born in Israel and there I spent half my life. I am proud of my Israeli identity and I keep close connection with my family and friends there. It amazes me how at almost every visit I see how Israel is growing and changing before my eyes.

I also consider myself lucky to be a proper Ashkefaradi. I am 50% Ashkenazi from my father’s side, and I am 50% Sepharadi from my mother’s side. 

The story of my parents and their (somewhat unlikely) marriage encompasses in many ways the story of the birth of the State of Israel. My father was born in Alsójára, a small village in Transylvania. He was wise enough to leave before the war and after some wandering in Europe, he made his home in Haifa. Like many men in the yishuv (the Jewish population in Mandatory Palestine) He served in the British army during WWII. After the establishment of Israel he became a pioneer in Hatzor, in the Upper Galilee. His entire immediate family perished in the Holocaust together with the majority of Jews who were left in the area. My father, the only remnant of his family, lost his faith in the Almighty and led a secular life. 

My mother was born in the town of Demnate at the foot of the Moroccan High Atlas Mountains. The family moved to the Moroccan capital Rabbat before setting off for Israel in the late 1940s and early 50s. The vast majority of new immigrants from Arab countries to Israel at the time were sent to abandon Arab villages or newly-formed settlements in remote places in the Negev and Galilee. My family was no exception. Most of them were sent to the abandoned Arab village of Beit Dagan (Bayt Dajan in Arabic). I remember as a child playing among the ruins of the Arab village. The state of my grandparents’ house and the houses of their neighbours were just a little better than the state of these ruins. 

On arrival in Israel, and at her request, my mother was separated from the rest of her family and was sent to Hatzor. There she tasted the life of a pioneer in a variety of outdoor jobs in the harsh winter and scorching summer days of the Upper Galilee. She met my father shortly after arrival, and the rest is history. I am fortunate to be Ashkefaradi because it gives me the opportunity to understand both worlds. These worlds were parallel in the young state of Israel. I recall that in my childhood Ashkefaradi children were a rare and strange phenomenon. There were times where I had to cling to one of my identities and hide the other. Hardly anyone in my predominantly Sepharadi primary school knew that I had an Ashkenazi father. The same happened at my predominantly Ashkenazi High School. I recall a few incidents where hiding my ‘other’ identity literally saved my skin. 

Seventy years after the establishment of the State, social undercurrents in Israeli society create a situation where there are many more Ashkefaradi children and adults. In my childhood there two types of music. There was the ‘mainstream’ Israeli and Western music that you could hear on the radio and purchase in record shops. Then there was the ‘alternative’ Mizrachi (oriental) music you could only purchase in dodgy cassette tape stalls in the marketplace in Tel Aviv's Central Bus Station. Nowadays many of Israel’s top singers use Mizrachi music or combine it with Western and ‘classic’ Israeli music. Omer Adam, one of the top Mizrachi singers in Israel, a Yiddisher mama, of Polish descent. 

Seventy years after the establishment of Israel, the boundaries between people, denominations and places of origin are gradually disappearing. The Zionist project was remarkably successful on many levels. However, there was a heavy price to pay for this success. Some of the heavy price was paid by those Jews who came from Arab and oriental countries, who sometimes were treated like primitive and ignorant second-class citizens, as if they were ‘the enemy’. Many of the problems faced by those who were coerced into settling in remote places with no job security, no future and no hope are now faced by their second and third generations. This perhaps could explain the overwhelming support of right-wing political parties form those who live in Israel’s ‘development towns’. It will take a great deal of change to convince them to vote for left-wing parties, historically associated with the Ashkenazi domination and oppression of the 1950s and 60s. I believe that these deep social wounds at the time of Israel’s early years could be healed over time, and with a great deal of effort and willingness. 

Happy 70th birthday Israel, may you go from strength to strength, and may you continue to be a beacon of light, hope and stability in the quick sands of the Middle East. 

Rabbi Yuval Keren

The Power Of Words - From The Rabbi

In the spring of 2004 I made a lifetime dream come true. I was accepted at Rabbinic School. I received a list of fourteen books to read before I started the course in the autumn of that year. I started a frantic reading of all fourteen volumes that included the entire Tanakh, the Jewish Bible and a few other thick books. I missed one little detail as I concluded a long and intense reading period. The small print stated that it was a recommended list, rather than a mandatory one. Words are very powerful indeed, no matter how small they might be! 

Still, there was one book that I started reading but could not get to complete. The bookmark is still on page 362 where I left it 14 years ago. The book is titled ‘The Holocaust’ by the historian Sir Martin Gilbert. In his book Sir Gilbert describes in dry academic language the history of the Holocaust. 
Gilbert begins his book in 1933 with the rise of Hitler and his Nazi party to power.

What was apparent for me from the book was the gradual nature of the Nazi genocide of the Jews. Nobody in Nazi Germany of 1933 was talking about the elimination of Jews. By the time I reached page 362, in the spring of 1942, killing of Jews and other ‘undesirable elements’ or ‘enemies of the German People’ was common. 

Sir Gilbert did not include in his book the early years of Nazism. It all started with ideas. These ideas were developed into words, and words were eventually translated into actions. actions took the form of discrimination, boycotts, burning of books, shops and synagogues, deportations, imprisonment, sporadic killings, and eventually genocide. There is an old joke about two Jews sitting on a bench in Berlin in 1935 and reading the papers. "Herr Altmann," said one of them. " I can't understand why you are reading Der Stürmer, a Nazi anti-Jewish propaganda sheet! Have you gone mad? "Not at all, Herr Baum. I used to read the Jewish papers and all I learned about were pogroms in Russia, riots in Palestine, and new anti-Jewish laws in Germany. Now that I read Der Stürmer, I see so much more: that the Jews control all the banks, that we dominate in the arts, and that we are on the verge of taking over the entire world. You know – it makes me feel a whole lot better!" 

Beyond the joke, Der Stürmer was a part of the Nazi propaganda machine that was a vehicle in translating Nazi anti-Semitism into actions. They objectified the Jews, depicted them as vermin, mice and snakes, to be excluded and eradicated. The words spoken then were perhaps crude, yet they were an effective method of selling the myth of unity, national pride and greatness to Germans who desired a break from the painful past. This was achieved by the creation of a myth of an alien race that feeds on the host nation, and poisons its culture and blood - the hated Jew. It was easy for the Nazis to exercise control over the German People by making a minority people the ultimate enemy within. 

We have a responsibility to ensure that the words of community leaders and politicians are not directed at uniting ‘us’ by separating ‘them’ from ‘us’, accepting the ‘similar’ by rejecting the ‘different’, loving ‘my neighbour’ by hating ‘the stranger’. 

The Torah, the holiest Jewish text, begins with creation of the world. “And God said, “let there be light”, and there was light.” (Genesis 1:3) The world was created with words. Human civilisation was created and formed with the words of philosophers, scientists and religious leaders. And it is the ability to form words and find meaning in words that distinguished us from the rest of creation. The book of Proverbs (18:21) describes all too well the power of speech: “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” Just as the tongue can bring life, prosperity, and growth, it can bring death and destruction. 

In Nazi Germany crude, yet powerful words and ideas brought misery, death and destruction upon millions of victims, and millions of their perpetrators. Let us resolve to use words wisely to the benefit of the individual, the community, our country, humanity and Planet Earth, this Garden of Eden entrusted into our care. Let us take phrases such as ‘us and them’ out of our vocabulary. Let every person, regardless of their skin colour, race, religion, sexual orientation, or place of origin, be a part of our family, one of ‘us’. 

Rabbi Yuval Keren.

The Joy of Community Involvement - From the Rabbi

I once sat with a boy preparing for his Bar Mitzvah and asked him was was his favourite fesitval. He replied without hesitation: “It’s definitely Purim.” I asked him why Purim was his favourite, expecting an answer such as ‘I like dressing up’ or ‘I love Hamentashen’ but received none of these answers. ‘My favourite festival is Purim because last Purim I took part in a play and we told the story of Purim. I was amazed by his answer. At that moment it dawned on me that the reason the Bar Mitzvah boy enjoyed the festival was because he had an active involvement in the affair and that gave the celebration a completely new meaning for him. We live in a fast-moving world and we have many distractions in our lives. For a young person there are the increasingly demanding academic workload at school, extra-curricular activities in the afternoon and much of the time is filled with virtual reality – mobile phones and watching TV. Many adults work hard and often play hard. In our society we often find it difficult to engage in the life of the Jewish community. Active involvement in the life of the community is both essential and enjoyable. It is almost impossible to lead a meaningful Jewish life without the continuous support and encouragement of the community. Judaism and Jewish values cannot be acquired solely from text books, TV programmes and Hollywood films. One has to live and experience the reality of Judaism in order to appreciate it. Without real and concrete hands-on engagement with Judaism then there can be no Judaism, and ultimately there will be no Jews. 

The solution is to get spiritually active and fit. When I join a health club I want to make the most of my membership fees and attend regularly. We ought to treat our synagogue membership in the same way. There is a wealth of activities in our community: study sessions, synagogue services and social events. It is possible that we do not currently support your particular interest but with sufficient demand and enthusiasm you can make it happen. Together we can support Israel and Jewish interests, and get involved in local and wider causes. I believe that we need to do so for our own sake and for the sake of our future generations. We need to get active for the sake of this wonderful religion named Judaism, for the truth and beauty it represents and for the sake of the unique role that our religion plays in the world. 

The Tannaitic Rabbi Hillel once said: “If I am not for myself, who is for me? And when I am for myself, what am I? “And if not now, when?” (Mishnah, Avot 1:13) “If I am not for myself, who is for me?” We cannot rely on others to practice our Judaism for us. We must make the effort ourselves in order to reap the benefits. “When I am for myself, what am I?” In our times individuality and personal space are appreciated, sometimes at the expense of the communal. Yet, the prayer in a Minyan (a quorum of ten) is considered to be higher than the prayer of the individual. This also extends to cultural and social aspects of Judaism. We draw our strength from numbers and we are able to support each other. “If not now, when?” Detach your eyes from the small and large screens, reshuffle your busy diaries to make space available for meetings, study, prayer, and other Jewish activities, whether within the community or without. Do not say ‘when I have time I will get involved’. Get involved today!

A Tale of Three Apples

I am sure you have all discovered by now that I have been on a health and fitness drive in the past year or so. It had been an incredible journey and along the way I discovered many things about myself and broke many self-myths about my age and abilities. One major element of my health drive is food. This is how I rediscovered the Heavenly taste of apples. The history of our relationship with apples goes all the way back to the creation of the world. When Adam and Eve were created 5778 years ago (If you discount evolution and follow the traditional Jewish counting), they were placed in the Garden of Eden. This was a magnificent place, and according to one Midrash, there were a scent of apple trees in the Garden. What follows is a story that almost every child is familiar with. 

God tells them not to touch the ‘apple’ tree. The serpent tempts Eve to eat from the fruit, and Eve tempts Adam. They realise that they are naked, and it ends with their expulsion from the Garden of Eden. The apple tree in this story serves as the tree of knowledge. By eating from the forbidden apple humans became wise and had an understanding of the world that no one else in the animal kingdom had before. We learned to grow crops, domesticate animals, harness fire, and more.

However, was the fruit of knowledge really an apple? The Torah gives us no clue as to the nature of the fruit. Jewish tradition does not associate this fruit with an apple. One rabbinic opinion is that it was a fig tree. Indeed, when they realise that they are naked, they grab the first thing next to them, fig leaves. Other views are that it might have been wheat or an Etrog, and more modern interpretations claim for the fruit to be a banana or a prickly pear. The apple is a Christian idea. There is a sexual connotation to the story of Adam and Eve and the temptation of the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Red is the colour of temptation, and what is better for temptation than a juicy red apple. Paintings of Christian artists, such as the German Renaissance painter Lucas Cranach and the Flemish artist Rubens, feature red apples. Our first apple therefore represents the creation of the world, the formation of human society, and the agricultural revolution.

Our second famous apple belongs to Sir Isaac Newton. Young Isaac was sitting in his garden when suddenly an apple falls from the tree and hits him on the head. This apple and other falling apples around him triggered a brilliant insight in Newton, and he discovered the law of gravity. Newton’s apple, whether it did fall on his head or not, marks a milestone in the scientific revolution that changed the world. It marks the beginning of observation of our world in terms of scientific research and the formulation of theories rather than the reliance on religious and cultural myths. Newton’s apple, and the scientific discoveries that followed, helped us to build instruments that enabled a better observation of our world. It enabled us to harness the forces of nature to our needs, and the construction of mighty machines on land, sea and air. Newton’s observation of the falling apple poses a serious challenge to Biblical stories such as Adam and Eve and their passion for apples in the Garden of Eden. What could not be proven scientifically through empirical research is to be classified as no more than a myth or an allegorical anecdote. The scientific revolution was and still is the most significant challenge to religion.

Our third apple belongs to the realm of modern technology. Ten years ago the CEO of Apple Inc., Steve Jobs, waved a small device that could play music, make and answer calls, and surf the Internet. This was the prototype of all smartphones to come. Although there are so many other candidates before and after it, that particular apple device, the iPhone, represents more than any other device the information revolution. If Adam and Eve’s revolution gave us food, and Newton’s revolution gave us energy, the iPhone revolution placed in our pockets a vast and almost endless sea of knowledge. Yet, it is not only knowledge that it gave us. You can talk to it, and ask it questions, and it will give you good answers. You can ask it (nicely) to take you home, and it will. You can tell it about your aches and pains and it will find a remedy. More than that, these systems are so intelligent that they can even know about you more than you know about yourself and tell you what you want and need even before you even thought about it.

These devices gradually know more and more about your body and your mind. They can take your pulse, check your temperature, and record what you had for breakfast. We live in a world where intelligent phones run our daily lives, intelligent homes set up the heating for us and keep an eye on the neighbourhood while we are out, intelligent robots that clean for us, intelligent fridges that can ensure we are never out you do so there will be nobody to fix it after you.” With the apple from the Garden of Eden we started taking over the habitat of other animals, and clearing forests. We pushed wildlife away in order to clear way for our apple orchards, wheat fields and our domestic animals. With Newton’s apple we caused an incredible amount of pollution on land, at sea and in the air. Our world is increasingly becoming overpopulated.

We are yet to witness the full effects of the third apple. We might gain even more control of the world around us but we might not fully understand that control. We are in danger of losing our occupation and livelihood to machines. There is an increasing worry that technology will end in the wrong hands and the smart home that we installed in order to protect us will be used to attack us. Another worry is that of passive entertainment. We seem to be spending an increasing amount of time in front of screens rather than going out there and being active. Some people find it difficult to engage in conversation with one another, and many of us stopped reading books. As we benefit from all three ancient and contemporary apples that shaped the world, let us recall the blessing and the curse of these apples.  

Let us enjoy the blessing of agriculture and food, but let us avoid clearing more forests and destroying more natural habitats. Perhaps we can even create more natural beauty spots. Let us enjoy the blessing that science gave us, but also the extensive damage we cause to our world, and make an attempt to clean it up. Perhaps it is time to give up these plastic water bottles and supermarket carrier bags. Let us enjoy the blessing of information technology and the wealth of knowledge it brings to us wherever we go. Yet let us not forget to keep our minds sharp, our bodies healthy and our souls pure. And let us continue to enjoy the blessing of apples, not biblical. historical or technological apples, but real apples, that you can make a perfect strudel out of. 

Words From The Rabbi

In Parashat Vayelech, Moses delivers his final address to the nation he shepherded through the desert for the last forty years. At the beginning of that journey, events unfolded at a very rapid pace. The Ten Plagues were inflicted on the Egyptians for no more than several weeks. It took them three from the time they left the land of Goshen until they crossed the Red Sea. A year later, they stood at Sinai to receive the Torah (and worship the golden Calf); two months later, they sent the spies to tour the Promised Land. It was the report of the spies and the response of the People that convinced God that, although it took only a few to get the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt, it would take a lot longer to get the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt, and turn them into a nation. Some processes need to take time, experience and maturity. Some mind-sets can only be shifted over the course of generations.

Moses, who gave up on herding sheep at the age of 80, was bidding farewell to the nation he helped form for the past forty years. His last piece of advice to the Nation was: “Be strong and resolute, do not fear or dread the others; for the Eternal your God marches with you. God will not fail you or forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:6)

When Moses delivered this message, he knew that his work was done. During the forty years of the journey through the desert, the People of Israel managed to shed their slave mind-set, the dependency they had on their Egyptian masters, and the fear they had about controlling their destiny. Yet, Moses also realised that what took forty years of hard work to build could take very little time and effort to destroy. This destruction could come from a ‘mighty’ external enemy, and it could come from their fears and weaknesses. Although Moses explicitly talked about an external enemy, he actually aimed at the enemy from within, the self-enemy that doubts our strength and capabilities. It is the enemy of the slogan “Yes we can” that we know from the children’s TV series Bob the Builder, and from Barack Obama’s 2008 election campaign. Seventy two years have passed since the liberation of the Auschwitz death camp. During that time we were busy learning the lessons from the Shoah (the Holocaust) and ensuring that the generations ahead do not repeat the same mistake.
Nearly a hundred years ago women were allowed to vote in the US for the first time, Britain followed ten years after. Since then our society removed many barriers and indeed benefitted from empowering women in many aspects of life: in the workplace; at home; in politics; in business; in the military; and more.

It has been a hundred and fifty years since the 16th US president, Abraham Lincoln, paved the way for the abolition of slavery, and nearly 75 years since Rosa Parks refused to abide by laws of segregation between whites and blacks in Montgomery, US. Both events marked the beginning of the end of racism and exploitation. Recent events in our world mark for me a setback on some of these trends. Antisemitism is gradually raising its ugly head again, even among circles considered to be enlightened and free from prejudice. The barriers to historical revisionism (a.k.a. Holocaust denial) are gradually removed, and the language associated with anti-Semitism is replaced with a ‘cleaner’ anti-Zionism, anti-Communism or anti-liberalism. The march of the Alt-right last month in Charlottesville, US brought to the fore all sorts of old ‘demons’ of white supremacy, segregation and antisemitism.

The declaration, which announced support for the establishment of a "national home" for the Jewish people in Palestine. All this might leave us in a state of despair and a great sense of setback. This is where the words of Moses must echo in our hearts and minds. We must be strong and resolute in our struggle against racism and prejudice. We must have no fear or dread of those who march with torches and Nazi flags, and who wish to march us back to the times of segregation, slavery and genocide.

So long as we believe in our path of freedom, equality and liberation, and so long as we believe in ourselves, God is going to be on the side of the alt-righteous, and not on the side of the alt-right.

Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Yuval Keren.

Words From Our Rabbi

It is that time of the year. The air is becoming cooler, and daylight is fading away as the days of the week are getting shorter. Autumn is knocking on our doors, and it carries on its wings a spiritually significant time for us: the month of Ellul and the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. It is time to celebrate the Jewish New Year, enjoy honey cakes and look forward to the powerful sound of the shofar. It is also time to think and plan how we are going to overcome the twenty five-hour fast on Yom Kippur. This is the peak season in the Jewish calendar and for many of us it is also a time to reconnect to our Yiddishkeit, Jewish traditions, customs, practices and ideas, and the Jewish way of life.

In Biblical times the main concern of Jews who lived in agricultural societies in Eretz Israel (the land of Israel) was the end of summer and the beginning of the rainy season. The Middle East is known for its fluctuations in the amount of rain, and no rain will have meant no crops, resulting in famine and death. The High Holydays therefore signify at that time a time of pleading to God for a new year of rain, food and fortune. Communication with God was conducted in the Jerusalem Temple through animal sacrifice by the Temple priests.

Over the years the core idea behind the High Holydays was preserved yet it lost its sole focus on agriculture, and it gained a new focus on personal and communal. The substitutes to sacrifice that we offer are: teshuvah, tefillah and tzedakah – repentance, prayer and acts of charity.

The High Holydays are a high spiritual time where we, as individuals and as a community, must engage in ‘cheshbon nefesh’. Cheshbon nefesh literally means spiritual accounting and stock taking.

Once a year every business needs to produce a set of financial accounts. It helps the business to take stock of assets and liabilities, to know whether it is making a profit or a loss and to determine how much tax it should pay.

The 18th Century Italian Rabbi Luzato gives us good cheshbon nefesh advice. “You should always check your deeds and inspect your ways in order to not let bad habits settle. You should be vigilant with your spiritual paths just as a merchant should always be vigilant with his business paths in order that business remains viable.”

Every day of the year we live our lives; we attempt to make a difference in the world. We have our successes and failures, yet we do not pause to ‘take stock’. Cheshbon nefesh before and during the time of the High Holydays gives us the opportunity to assess our distance from God and God’s commandments, examine our spiritual state and plan for the future. Unlike corporate Balance Sheets and Profit and Loss accounts I cannot offer you any cheshbon nefesh templates. Each individual will have to create his or her own template. Yet I can perhaps provide some guidelines. In Judaism we tend to divide the mitzvot into two sub-categories: Between us and God (ritual) and between us and others (ethical).

On the ritual side we need to think about our connection with God, with spirituality and with Judaism. Did we attend synagogue, light Shabbat candles, engage in study, prayer and other forms of spirituality? Did we encourage others to do so? We need to determine what stops us from reaching our maximum spiritual profit and what steps we need to take to overcome them. A good outcome could be: remember to light Shabbat candles once a week, record my favourite TV programme so I can attend Friday Night service, try to attend the monthly Shabbat morning study session.

The ethical side could be broken down to sub-categories: family, friends, colleagues, my community and even society as a whole. Here we need to determine whether we became closer or got further away from people, whether we conducted ourselves properly or we did anything we now regret. Honesty is essential in this process as human tendency is to shift the blame of our ethical failures onto all but ourselves.

One rule of thumb that I have in conducting cheshbon nefesh is to avoid asking the question: ‘whose fault was it?’ and ask the question ‘what can I do to fix it?’

There are two guiding questions that can help us with our annual cheshbon nefesh. The first: What is my primary aim in life? And the second: If I only have a year to live, what would I want to achieve within that year?

The end result of cheshbon nefesh should be a meaningful action list for the days, weeks and months ahead. It could be asking for forgiveness from someone we wronged, attending synagogue once a week, or reducing pollution by recycling and conserving energy.

Annual stock-taking is so important that some businesses even take me out one day in the year day while they take stock. So it is with our spiritual stock-taking of cheshbon nefesh. The High Holydays offer us a good opportunity to pause, reflect and take ritual and ethical stock in order to realign our spiritual life for the year ahead.

Wishing you Shanah Tovah and a successful cheshbon nefesh.

Words from our Rabbi

The Book of Genesis tells us that when Jacob was on his deathbed in Egypt, Joseph brought his two sons to him. Jacob did not know who they were. He therefore had to ask Joseph “who are they?” (Genesis 48:8). Why didn't Jacob recognize his own grandchildren? Perhaps because they walked, talked and were dressed like Egyptians rather than Hebrews. Perhaps Jacob could not believe that these assimilated young men were his own grandchildren. When Joseph told him “these are my sons”, Jacob became very worried. 

According to a Midrashic story, at that point, the grandchildren said to Jacob "Shema, Israel. Listen Israel (Jacob's other name, given to him by the angel). Adonai Eloheinu, Adonai Echad, Adonai is our God, Adonai is One." Jacob was so relieved to hear these words coming out of the mouths of the two ‘Egyptian’ boys, that he replied "baruch shem k'vod malchuto l'olam va-ed - praised be God's name for ever!" 

Jacob was a nomad, a shepherd, a man of the desert. He escaped from his father’s house and established his family and fortune in a far away land. He is used to a life of traveller and his roots in the land are very shallow. One day he is in the land of Canaan, the next day he is in Haran, in Canaan again and then he makes his final journey to the land of Goshen - to Egypt. 

Joseph is his favourite son, yet he is a completely different person. Joseph is not a man of travel. He is forced to make one long journey to Egypt as a slave and there he makes his fortune. Joseph plants deep roots in the land of Egypt. Even if we assume that, for understandable reasons, he was not that keen on meeting his elder brothers, he still makes no effort to make contact with his beloved father and his younger brother during the time of his service to Pharaoh. The ex-Canaanite slave becomes the second most powerful man in Egypt and there he absorbs the local culture. He adopts an Egyptian name – ‘ZAPHENATH-PANEAH’ and he marries an Egyptian woman, the daughter of an Egyptian priest. Yet Joseph is careful to give his ‘Egyptian’ children Hebrew rather than Egyptian names - Menasseh and Ephraim. 

His children were born in Egypt. They never had the chance of experiencing the nomad life of their grandfather Jacob or the early life of their father Joseph. For them perhaps these family stories of the promise of the land to their great-great-grandfather Abraham and the story of the binding of their great-grandfather Isaac sounded like fairy tales. I can just imagine that, as the children of the second most powerful person in the most powerful country in the world at the time, they could not comprehend the reality of living in a tent and they could not understand the usefulness of a promise of a small piece of land so far away from the safety of their palace. 

Yet the challenge of passing the Jewish tradition from Jacob to Joseph and from Joseph to Manasseh and Ephraim is a challenge that we face in every generation. I look at my own history and my own experience of learning my tradition in a small religious school in the city of Ashkelon in Southern Israel. There we obviously spoke Hebrew and we therefore could read the Bible and other Jewish texts at source. At that time, we only had the distraction of a single channel on TV and most of our play time was outdoors. My children live a reality that is completely different to the one I had at their age. They probably could not understand that it is possible to have a month, a week or a day without a TV, smartphones phones, Snapchat and Instagram (whatever they are!). 
The challenge that a parent, and indeed a congregation, faces in our world, is one of taking the history and traditions of our grandparents, our parents and ourselves and passing them on to our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. How can we teach them about the Holocaust if they did not חס וחלילה ‘ ,dna – ’ God forbid, will never live to experience it? How can we make Jewish ritual, study and prayer meaningful for them as it is for us? How can we ensure that they continue as a link in the chain of our tradition rather than the last one? 

We can obviously make the effort and send them to Ruach, our religion school, and to Jewish schools. We can make the effort and practice the ritual at home as a family. Yet, this is not enough and, in many cases, our children might resent these experiences and even feel that they are very alienated from it in the same way that Manasseh and Ephraim must have felt when they tried to make sense of the nomad traditions of their grandfather. 

We also need to ask why is it that many synagogues experience a drop in membership and that some do not have that many young adult members, while cultural and educational institutions such as Limmud have experienced an exponential growth over the past years. 

The first Limmud started in 1980 with around 80 delegates. 35 years later – Limmud ended this year with around 3,000 participants. But this is not the end of the story for Limmud. There are now over 80(!) Limmud communities in 44(!) countries around the world. There are day-Limmud conferences all over the UK, and there is a Glastonbury-style Limmud conference in the summer. 
Limmud is perhaps just one example of how grandparents, parents, young adults and children can bridge the gap between the generations and are able to continue passing on the tradition. Limmud is a great opportunity of instilling strong Jewish values – community, caring, volunteering, charity, creativity, worship and the study of Torah. 

Limmud has also become the melting pot of the Anglo-Jewish community. Limmud is a Jewish conference, run by Jews and for Jews. Yet you don’t need to have a Jewish mother, be a member of a synagogue or meet a certain criteria set by the office of the Chief Rabbi in order to aSend. 

Limmud delegates come from all denomina,ons and from no denomination. The spirit of Limmud is one of mutual respect and tolerance for all. Everyone has a chance to express their views, and everyone has the right to listen or walk away. The only potential limit imposed by the conference is the physical size of a room and the time of day when a lecture might take place.

As a congregation we need to ask ourselves – what can we learn from the success of the Limmud conference and how can we make the congregants of SPS benefit from it? 

Perhaps we should make it possible for our younger generation to aSend Limmud. Perhaps we need to enable Limmud-style learning and teaching opportunities for families within our own community. Perhaps we need to build on the spirit of volunteering and care that we already have in our community and instil these in our young. Perhaps we need to encourage in all our members the feeling that we can all have our share of Jewish learning, worship and practice. ‘LO BASHAMAYIM HI’- all these things are not in the heaven that only a God, or at least a Rabbi, can perform them successfully. These values are in our hearts and in our minds and we can therefore pass them to the next generation. In the process, we will no doubt also learn one or two new tricks from our young ones. 

Jacob passed his tradition to Joseph and Joseph passed this very tradition to his two children and they, in return, to their children. Each generation has a different experience of the world, yet the tradition has travelled across 3,500 years to our genera,on. We have the responsibility of passing this tradition to our children, and we must learn to do it in a way that will be meaningful to us, and will be meaningful to them.

Rabbi Yuval Keren

Words from the Rabbi: Rabbinic Feminism then and now

The Jewish world took one big leap forward last month when a group of eight women were ordained as Rabbi's in Jerusalem. 

Perhaps you will think that there is nothing unusual about ordination of women Rabbis. The first woman to be ordained as a Rabbi was Regina Jonas in Germany in 1935. Regina, who was a student of Rabbi Dr Leo Baeck, refused to make do with a teaching degree and wanted to be formally recognised for her knowledge and skills. It took the courage of Rabbi Dr Max Dienemann to provide Regina with a full Rabbinic ordination. Another glass ceiling was the reluctance of the communities to employ a woman Rabbi but Regina eventually overcame this obstacle to. Like many other German Jews, Regina's property was confiscated by the Nazis and she was sent to Theresienstadt concentration camp in Czechoslovakia. In the camp Regina continued her Rabbinic work by supporting those who has mental crises and suicidal tendencies. In 1944, nine years after ordination, Rabbi Regina Jonas was murdered by the Nazis in Auschwitz.

Regina led the was to consequent ordination of women to the Rabbinate. The second woman Rabbi to be ordained, and the first in the US, was Rabi Sally Jane Priesand in 1972. The first British woman Rabbi to be ordained in the UK, three years later; was Rabbi Jacky Tabick. Rabbi Tabick received her ordina<on from the Leo Baeck College, a Rabbinic institute that carries the name of one of Rabbi Jonas’ teachers and was established by one of her colleagues and a refugee from Nazi Germany, Rabbi Werner van der Zyl.

81 years aAer the ordina<on of the first woman Rabbi, gender plays little role in the acceptance of Rabbinic students to progressive seminaries around the world.

Yet, in the Orthodox world progress has been slow and there has been strong resistance to the idea of women serving as Rabbis. Interestingly, even though she received her ordina<on from Liberal ins<tu<ons, Rabbi Regina Jonas defined herself as a tradi<onal Orthodox Jew. She felt that her choice of a career was directed by a Divine hand. She could not find any objec<on to women serving as Rabbis in Jewish texts. In her Rabbinic thesis she justfied the women, not by using Liberal claims but by focusing on Orthodox sources. The title of her thesis was ‘Can a Woman Be a Rabbi According to Halachic Sources?’ Based on Biblical, Talmudic, and rabbinical sources, her conclusion was that apart from prejudice, there was no Halachic obstacle to women ordinaton.

The Feminist Revolution has finally hit the Orthodox world this past month when eight women Rabbis received their semicha (Rabbinic ordina<on) from an Orthodox Rabbi. It was only in recent years that Orthodox women were even allowed to study Torah at a Rabbinic level. Yet, those who reached that stage had to make do with alternative titles such as ‘Halachic Consultant’ ‘Halachic Leader’ and even the very inappropriate <tle Rabbanit (‘the Rabbi’s wife’).

The Modern Orthodox Rabbi Daniel Landes who ordained the group of students, told them: “You will be acting in a post-modern environment... As Rabbis you must support the principle of respect for one another.”

The next great challenge for the nearly ordained is not dissimilar to that of Rabbi Regina Jonas. They will need to find communities who will endorse them as their spiritual leader. This will no doubt be an uphill struggle in a world where Rabbis are expected to wear a suit and grow a beard, and they will need to stand firm against vicious attacks from the ultra-conservative side of Orthodoxy. Yet, they cannot and should not become invisible and transparent.

It took Liberal and Reform Judaism nearly eight decades to remove the gender barrier when it comes to communal spiritual leadership. There are now a number of women Rabbis in senior posi<ons in this country. To name a few: Rabbi Alexandra Wright is the senior Rabbi of LJS, Rabbi Baroness Julia Neuberger is the senior Rabbi of West London Synagogue, Rabbi Laura Janner- Klausner is the Senior Rabbi at the Movement for Reform Judaism. Rabbi Jacky Tabick, the first woman Rabbi in the UK, is the convenor of the Reform Movement's Beit Din. 

This is a beautiful example of the progressive movement leading the way to the rest of the Jewish world. It would probably take a few more decades for the newly ordained Orthodox women Rabbis and their supporters to introduce feminism and egalitarianism to the Orthodox world.