Yom Kippur Morning 5768
by Rabbi Alexandra Wright
It is surprising to realise that these services are the fourth High Holyday services at which I have officiated here at the LJS. Next March, will mark the beginning of my fifth in this post. Although I’m not a particularly numerate individual, numbers, years, days, anniversaries, cycles are important to me because I think they hold a deeply symbolic meaning and of course our own Jewish tradition attributes great importance and significance to numbers. Seven is the number in Judaism that holds a religious and almost mystical significance. But the numbers four and five also have an important connection to a particular biblical law found in Leviticus, Chapter 19. This is the law known in Hebrew as orlah. That word orlah comes from a Hebrew word meaning uncircumcised and more literally orlah means foreskin. But in the context of this law it refers to fruit grown on a tree which, in the first three years of its growth, is forbidden: “When you enter the land and plant any tree for food, you shall regard its fruit as forbidden (orlah). Three years it shall be forbidden to you, not to be eaten. In the fourth year all its fruit shall be set aside for jubilation before the Eternal One; and only in the fifth year may you use its fruit – that its yield to you may be increased: I the Eternal One am your God” (19:23-25). What this means is that the fruit which is grown on a tree in the first three years must be removed and disposed of rather than being eaten.
There is probably a very good reason for this waiting period until the fruit can be eaten. It takes a while for a new tree to take root, longer for the tree to begin bearing its fruit, and several seasons for a tree to yield a full harvest.
So this fourth year of my incumbency seems to present a timely opportunity to review the past a little and to look forward - not so much at that great world out there from which we have retreated this Yom Kippur – but at future harvests in our own community, the LJS – the congregation which we have decided to be part of and where we have chosen to bring up our children. In this context, I’m conscious that possibly most of us here feel connected in some way to the Religion School through our children or grandchildren who attend the Cheder or perhaps even help or teach classes themselves, and perhaps only some of us have a wider connection with the services, the pastoral and communal, social and fundraising aspects of the synagogue, the countless committees that meet almost daily on these premises and which oversee the running of the synagogue. Some of us too, have strong family connections going back two, sometimes three or four generations to the founding of this synagogue, but others have come in new and fresh, bringing different ideas, new energy, diversity, challenges to an institution whose history stretches back nearly one hundred years.
And that is the other reason for taking stock at this time: because at the synagogue’s AGM in June this year we were reminded that the centenary of the LJS would fall in just three years’ time. Three years to plan our celebrations, to put in place more committees, steering and planning groups, fund-raising activities, to mark this important landmark in our synagogue’s history with services, music, learning, exhibitions and activities to engage more deeply in the history of the LJS; to build a greater profile for the community, to attract more members and to engage in a host of different musical, dramatic, sporting and social engagements which would include every conceivable interest and age in the congregation.
One hundred years gives us pause for thought, even more than three or four or five years. And yes, of course we must celebrate our one hundred years of existence and survival, pay tribute to our members and reflect on our history. But for what purpose? What have we reaped during these one hundred years, and what are we sowing for the future? I’m conscious that such apparently parochial questions concerning our own community may not necessarily connect with those who are visiting us only for these festivals, but I hope that what you hear and see on the screen in front of you, isn’t only relevant to the LJS, but may have some relevance to other communities or organisations in which you are involved.
So let us look back to the beginnings of our synagogue and ask ourselves to what extent the vision of our founders has been realised and embodied in the work that we do? The Liberal movement in this country began, not as a synagogue, but as an organisation called the Jewish Religious Union. Its foundation is largely attributed to two quite remarkable individuals, whose names are inextricably linked with the origins of our own synagogue: Claude Montefiore and Lily Montagu. Both came from eminent Anglo-Jewish families. Lily Montagu, in particular came from a traditional, orthodox, observant home. But both also perceived the need for Jewish life, observance and belief to be reinvigorated and at the same time to confront new intellectual challenges. Both possessed a deep love for Judaism, were generous philanthropists, and while Claude Montefiore’s scholarship informed the early development of the movement, Lily Montagu devoted her life to helping others.
It was Lily Montagu who initially set down her ideas on paper, perceiving a disenchantment with religion particularly among the young, and she began to ask pertinent questions which eventually led to preliminary meetings and then the establishment of the Jewish Religious Union. What are the vital principles of the old Judaism, she asked, that must be preserved in the new? If these ‘vital principles’ do not include belief in the miraculous Divine Revelation which we have accepted until now, what is the Authority on which we are to rely in judging right and wrong? What forms and ceremonies should be retained on account of their historical or ethical value? What is to be the special function of the Jew under the new Judaism? (quoted in Rigal and Rosenberg, Liberal Judaism: The First 100 Years) These questions were sent out in the form of a letter to friends and family in March 1899 and Claude Montefiore responded with an 18-page typed letter, an acknowledgement of how important he felt they were.
The Jewish Religious Union was initially supported by a number of distinguished and well-known individuals drawn from a wide selection of different synagogues, including significantly the Revd. Simeon Singer, the editor of what was to become the standard United Synagogue prayerbook, and who conducted the first service. Its object was not to lure people away from their own synagogues, but as the publicity for their first service in October 1902 put it: “To provide means for deepening the religious spirit among those members of the Jewish Community who are not in sympathy with the present Synagogue Services, or who are unable to attend them.” Their services were designed to be supplementary to those provided by the existing synagogues; that is why, initially, they held their services on Shabbat afternoon and opened them to all. But there were changes. The services were held mainly in English and were helped by the presence of a voluntary and mixed choir and the prayers were shortened and in many cases phrases or difficult theological ideas were removed, such as references to the rebuilding of the Temple and the re-introduction of animal sacrifices.
Soon, however it became clear that the members of the Jewish Religious Union needed a synagogue for themselves and their children. It would hold Friday evening, Shabbat morning and afternoon services each week and two weekday services a month. In addition it would celebrate weddings and provide for burials. Because the Jewish Religious Union had been an association drawing individuals from across the religious spectrum, no manifesto of belief had been outlined. Now was the opportunity to commit to writing a manifesto for the new synagogue.
Liberal Judaism came on to the scene in the last heady days of the Edwardian era. Air travel was literally about to take off with the first non-stop flight in early 1912 from Paris to London, the suffragette movement was acknowledged with the first celebration in 1911 of International Women’s Day. But international transport brought tragedy as well with the sinking of the Titanic in April 1912 and if the presence of a German warship in the Moroccan port of Agadir began the escalation of pre-war tensions, the outbreak of the first and then second Balkan Wars were to have more serious and deleterious effects. The early directions of our founders were inscribed before the two World Wars, before the Holocaust, before the establishment of the State of Israel, before the war on terror and before the advent of a global technology that links us across continents and hemispheres could even be dreamed of. What characterised the first manifesto of Liberal Judaism was its optimism and progressiveness, its openness, its adherence to truth and transparency, its honesty and its unequivocal commitment to religious Judaism – that is to say: its declaration and affirmation of belief in God as the “Father of all mankind” and the value and efficacy of prayer. Montefiore’s Manifesto made five basic assertions: one that Judaism was essentially a universal religion, untrammelled by the limitations of partiality or nationalism; two, that prophetic Judaism affirms the tendency of the history of humanity towards righteousness and peace and social amelioration; three that religious ceremonies or institutions should remain consistent with our religious ideas, they should be – if I may use that overused expression – meaningful to us. Fourthly, that those wishing to join the Jewish people should be welcomed and accepted; and fifthly that Judaism must be continued and preserved for posterity. I will leave an analysis of those principles to another time, and return to the question of whether those words of our founders have found their embodiment in the existence of this congregation. Montefiore adds in his Manifesto these words: “We want to build up, to teach, a Judaism which we consider true, not merely to reject, and keep away from, a Judaism which we consider erroneous. We want positive constructive work; mere abstraction, negation, apathy will not help ourselves or our children or Judaism as a whole.” And furthermore: “We need a Jewish organisation which will at all events provide [all those who are drifting away] with a possible religious home. If anybody can secure them and win them, it must be we. And if we cannot secure them, we may at any rate secure their children.”
Have we built up, have we taught a Judaism which we consider true? Have we worked constructively and provided an inclusive and welcoming home for our members and their children? Have we defined ourselves in positive, affirming terms, rather than engaged simply in a polemic against orthodoxy or humanism or secularism? It’s interesting that Montefiore’s statement was not entitled a ‘vision’, but a manifesto. Perhaps what we need for our next 100 years is a vision – a vision that acknowledges the bloodbath of the twentieth century and the massive breaches of faith and trust that have taken place, a vision that is not afraid of the future, that need not look over its right-hand shoulder except to beckon and draw in those who themselves are looking for a home. We need a vision that accepts that tension and diversity can be creative, that is polychromatic – in other words where there exists an array of Jewish identities and lives who can learn to exist and live together– where the old and new exist in dialogue with each other, where we accept that a community is not a monolithic entity that has grown from one point, but a plurality, a spectrum of belief and practice accepting one thing in common, that each of us has a responsibility to live lives infused with a Judaism that makes real our commitment to justice in the world. May this Yom Kippur help us to contribute to that vision, to commit our rhetoric to a reality through our learning, our prayer and our dedication to deeds of righteousness and lovingkindness.
Rabbi Alexandra Wright
The Liberal Jewish Synagogue
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