Bare winter trees
branches etched
into the sky
frost crunching
underfoot
then deluges
of wind-driven rain
drenching every step.
And yet
signs
of rebirth
snowdrops
poking through
the weathered detritus
of long-gone autumn
and at the full moon
Tu Bishvat
the 15th day of Sh’vat
Rosh Ha-Shanah La-Ilanot
New Year for The Trees
reminding me – us
that in every buried root
the sap is rising
new life is stirring
in a few short weeks
Winter
will give way
to Spring.
Elli Tikvah Sarah
CHANUKKAH CANDLE-LIGHTING DEDICATIONS 2023 – 5784
- We dedicate the 1st flame to the people of Tibet, a proud nation that was annexed by China in 1951, and remains subject to Chinese authority.
- We dedicate the 2nd flame to the Muslim Uyghurs, and the other ethnic and religious minorities in the Xinjiang province of China, who are being subjected to ethnocide – cultural genocide – involving arbitrary detention, political indoctrination, suppression of religious practices, forced labour, forced sterilisation, contraception, and abortion.
- We dedicate the 3rd flame to the 25,000 Muslim Rohingya people murdered by the military forces of Myanmar in 2016-17, in addition to the 36,000 who were thrown into fires, the 116,000 beaten, the 18,000 women and girls subjected to sexual violence, and the more than 1 million forced to flee, mostly to Bangladesh.
- We dedicate the 4th flame to the 580,000 people, including 306,000 non-combatants, killed in the Syrian Civil War that has involved the destruction of the ancient cities of Aleppo and Homs, the forcible displacement of 14 million Syrians, and caused 7 million to flee as refugees.
- We dedicate the 5th flame to the over 150,000 people killed in the Yemeni Civil War, and more than 227,000 people who have died of ongoing famine and lack of healthcare facilities as a consequence of the war.
- We dedicate the 6th flame to the 10,000 people killed and up to 12,000 injured in the war between rival factions of the military government of Sudan, the 4.8 million who have been internally displaced, and more than 1.3 million who have fled the country as refugees.
- We dedicate the 7th flame to the people of Ukraine following the Russian invasion of 24 February 2022 that has resulted in tens of thousands of Ukrainian civilian casualties, hundreds of thousands of military casualties, 8 million Ukrainians being internally displaced, and more than 8.2 million fleeing the country, creating the largest refugee crisis in Europe since World War II.
- We dedicate the 8th flame to the people of Israel and Palestine, caught up in a cycle of violence following the establishment of the State of Israel on 14 May 1948, which has included wars of annihilation launched against Israel by its Arab neighbours, and since 1967, the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, the expansion of illegal settlements, the active dispossession and oppression of the Palestinians, and campaigns of terror on the part of extremist Palestinian groups in response. In particular, we dedicate the 8th flame to the memory of the 1400 people massacred by Hamas terrorists on 7 October 2023, the 240 adults and children taken hostage, and the thousands of Gazans killed and hundreds of thousands displaced as a consequence of Israel’s retaliatory war against Hamas.
Elul
*Elul
Elul
the moon
between
seasons
North
and South
between
the fierce intensities
of Summer and Winter
between
the winds of change
that stir Autumn and Spring
the moon
between
nature’s rhythms
that shines
as it waxes and wanes
a solitary beacon
in the night
searching us out
insinuating pale light
into our minds’
tight crevices
revealing us
to ourselves
in the space
between
the old year
and the new
reminding us
to turn
inward
to listen
to our hearts’ broken beat
of hurts and regrets
to turn
outward
to those around us
to all that lives and breathes
and prepare
for the work of renewal
the repair of our relationships
our communities
our world.
Elli Tikvah Sarah
*Elul: The sixth month of the Jewish year, which precedes the ‘High Holy Days’ of the seventh month, Tishri.
WHAT (RATHER THAN ‘WHO’) IS A JEW?
Wandering
Jew
‘Rootless
Cosmopolitan’[1]
Descendent of ha-Ivrim
‘the Hebrews’
those eternal ‘border-crossers’
forever moving
from place to place
for whom
place
is ever-mobile.
The tent-tabernacle
pitched and dismantled
at every staging post
in the stony wilderness
where place
shifted with the winds.
And then
after the sojourn
in the land
after the place of the Eternal
fixed in stone
was destroyed
sacred place
mikdash
reconfigured as
a cornucopia of
words
mikdashyah[2]
sacred scripture
accompanying
the people
on all our journeys
ever since
the ever-renewed
ever-renewing
place of nourishment
and meaning.
Displaced
Jew
in a world of
the post-industrial
post-colonial
post-Sho’ah
post-Modern
misplaced
I find my place
in ancient tales
in words
crafted
and re-crafted
translated
into deeds
that beat out the rhythms of
the days and weeks
the months and years
that celebrate the blessings
of every day
that make of each moment
a place
a call to
‘Choose Life’
‘Pursue Justice’
‘Seek Peace’
‘Loosen the fetters of evil
undo the bands of the yoke
liberate the oppressed
tear apart every chain
feed the hungry
provide refuge for the homeless
clothe the naked
satisfy the afflicted.’[3]
today
every day
without delay.
Elli Tikvah Sarah
-
See: https://www.rbth.com/history/327399-stalin-versus-soviet-jews Also: Gelbin, Cathy S and Gilman, Sander L., ‘Rootless Cosmopolitans: German Jewish Writers and the Stalinist Purges’ in Cosmopolitanisms and the Jews. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2017. ↑
-
Mikdashyah: The name given to certain mediaeval Spanish Hebrew Bible Codices. ↑
-
Deuteronomy 30.19; Deut. 16.20; Psalm 34.14; Isaiah 58.6-7; 10. ↑
A RESPONSE TO THE MASS PROTESTS IN ISRAEL
Tishah B’Av 5783
People gathered
in defiance
from winter to summer
Democracy’s
sentries of
Hope
with flags held high
on the streets
of Tel Aviv
and Jerusalem
flags
and fires now
aflame
in the summer heat.
Burning beacons
of Ha-Tikvah
‘The Hope’[1]
‘to be a free people
in our land
the land of Zion and Jerusalem’[2]?
Or the last embers of
The Hope
burning?
The Hope soon to be extinguished?
turned to ashes
like the Temples of old?
After all
Democracy
died
in the heady haze of
the ‘Six-Day’ triumph[3]
Israel
saved
from its enemies
long-lost
in the hard facts
of domination
on the ground.
The ‘Green Line’ crossed
the West Bank occupied[4]
by pioneer settlers
turned armed guards
of their fortress settlements
but still stalking
on the wild side
the descendants of survivors of
pogroms
visiting fire
on another displaced people
who also long
to be a free people
in their land.
Where will it end?
When will it end?
Kinah[5]
let us lament
let us tear our clothes
let us sit on the ground
and scoop ashes
on our heads
let us mourn
the loss of innocence.
And then
seizing Hope
once more
take to the streets
with a call for
Democracy-free-of-occupation
Equality
Justice
Peace
Security
for both peoples
and also
for the land
beloved
of both peoples
‘a land of wheat and barley
and vines and fig trees
and pomegranates
a land of olive oil and honey’
‘Then each person
(each Israeli each Palestinian)
shall sit under their vine
and under their fig tree
and none shall terrorise them’.[6]
Elli Tikvah Sarah
-
Ha-Tikvah is the title of Israel’s National Anthem. ↑
-
The last phrases of Ha-Tikvah. ↑
-
5-10 June 1967. The ‘Six-Day War’ between Israel and the coalition forces of Egypt, Syria, and Jordan. ↑
-
1949 ceasefire line that assigned the ‘West Bank’ of the River Jordan to the Kingdom of Jordan. ↑
-
Kinah is the Hebrew word for ‘lamentation’. Kinot, ‘lamentations,’ are recited on Tishah B’Av. ↑
-
Quotations from: Deuteronomy 8:8; Micah 4:4. ↑
THE BIRTHDAY OF THE WORLD
THE BIRTHDAY OF THE WORLD
Rosh Ha-Shanah; the Jewish New Year. But there’s nothing very new about it. The COVID-19 pandemic continues. The world will not be free of it until all the world’s peoples are vaccinated. When will that be? Meanwhile, devastating floods and raging fires. Climate catastrophe is not a future threat it is a present danger.
As Jews across the world mark the second New Year during the pandemic, the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 terror attacks in the United States looms just days away. The word ‘anniversary’ suggests the simple marking of an event in the past, but as we all know, that day of destruction inaugurated the so-called ‘war against terror’, which has been continuous ever since.
Somehow, over 70 years after the establishment of the United Nations in the aftermath of World War II and the Sho’ah, the Nazi Holocaust,[1] the nations of the world have still not found ways of dealing with conflict that don’t incite more conflict, and generate more death and devastation.
And yet, in recent decades, we have been exposed through the media to a new discourse that speaks of everything in global terms. And there is no doubt that Brexit and the persistence of nationalism apart, we are increasingly global citizens, beset by global economic crises and threatened by global climate catastrophe and ecological disaster – and more recently, the global coronavirus pandemic. And then, as the sites of oppression and conflict proliferate, there is the global refugee crisis. Wave after wave of refugees; some finding themselves caged in camps, others risking their lives in flimsy boats to get to safety. And now, Afghans desperate to flee following the withdrawal of American and British forces and the resurgence of the Taliban and ISIS.
Bombarded by incessant images of chaos and destruction from across the globe, has this new ‘global’ consciousness impacted on our understanding of the world and our place within it; our sense of responsibility for the Earth and towards one another?
I mentioned the Jewish New Year. Rosh Ha-Shanah, literally, the ‘head of the year’, has several names. One of these tells us that it is ‘the birthday of the world’ – harat olam. Significantly, the Jewish calendar does not begin with Abraham and Sarah, the first ancestors of the Jewish people, but rather with the creation of the world. On Rosh Ha-Shanah, when a new year begins, its date reflects the chronologies listed in the Torah, going right back to B’reishit, Genesis. Of course, this doesn’t mean that the world is, literally, 5782 years old as of this New Year. But the ‘birthday of the world’ reminds us to consider our lives and the present realities of life today in the context of the very beginnings of Life itself.
Importantly, the Hebrew word for ‘world’, olam, does not simply designate a particular globe in the firmament. It can also be translated as ‘universe’. The very first verse of the Torah states: B’reishit bara Elohim eit ha-shamayim v’eit ha-aretz – ‘In beginning God created the heavens and the Earth’ (Genesis 1:1). Note: not ‘In the beginning’, which would be ba-reishit in Hebrew; the creative force is an ongoing process. The six-word blessing formula also reflects the understanding that the Creator is the ‘Sovereign of the universe’ –Melech ha-olam: ‘Blessed are you, Eternal One, Sovereign of the universe’. And olam does not just denote the vastness of space. In another liturgical formulation, olam expresses the corresponding concept of ‘eternity’, as in the phrase, l’olam va-ed, ‘forever and ever’[2].
Rosh Ha-shanah is the ‘birthday of the world’; a commemoration of the birth of the universe; a portal to eternity.
We are not simply situated on a globe, a planet, the Earth. At night we can gaze at the sky and know that the lights twinkling in the blackness are stars and galaxies billions of light-years away.
At the Jewish New Year, we acknowledge the beginning of space/time and are challenged to acknowledge our responsibility as guardians of this small spinning planet in the vast universe – our only home.
Yes, our only home. Space exploration in the past 50+ years has revealed astonishing information about the solar system in which the Earth is located. In his wonderful TV series, ‘The Planets’, Professor Brian Cox combined intelligibility with eloquence as he spoke about the findings of the space missions that have extended to the furthest reaches of the solar system[3].
The images beamed back to Earth of these distant worlds are incredible: the red rock vistas of Mars; the magnificent rings surrounding Saturn. Yes, there are signs of water on Neptune and Uranus. And the research of University of Cambridge astronomers has suggested recently that “ocean-covered” ’Mini Neptunes’ detected beyond the solar system “with hydrogen-rich atmospheres” “may soon yield signs of life”[4]. So, perhaps, it may be possible one day for human beings to walk on Mars, and even live there in special constructions sealed from the hostile atmosphere. Perhaps it may even be possible to travel beyond the solar system. But life as we know it, life in the open air, breathable life beyond the Earth, in the company of other living creatures, oxygenated by trees and vegetation, is not possible. And if there is intelligent life elsewhere in the universe, scientists have not yet detected a single minute murmur[5].
The Earth is our only home. We must begin to address the consequences of our misuse and abuse of it before it’s too late and learn to share it. As a new year begins, may we all resolve to work together to share and repair the world.
Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah
September 2021 / Tishri 5782
-
The United Nations was officially established by 51 countries on 24 October 1945. http://www.un.org ↑
-
As in the second verse of the Sh’ma: Baruch sheim k’vod malchuto l’olam va-ed, ‘Blessed be [the] Name whose glorious majesty is for ever and ever’; a liturgical response inserted after the first verse of the biblical text (Deuteronomy 6:4-9). ↑
-
https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episodes/p07922lr/the-planets ↑
-
https://www.theguardian.com/science/2021/aug/26/mini-neptune-beyond-solar-system-may-soon-yield-sign-life-hycean-exoplanet-cambridge-astronomer ↑
-
‘Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence’: https://www.seti.org/ ↑
Sermon conversation with Rabbi Dr Andrew Goldstein, President of Liberal Judaism
Elli to Andrew:
Andrew: It is an honour for me to share this dialogue sermon with you. The theme of this year’s conference is ‘Breaking Down Walls’, as Liberal Judaism continues to explore ways of making our movement as inclusive as possible. After a lifetime of service to Liberal Judaism, you are President of the movement, and having been a complete outsider as a lesbian and a feminist when I was ordained 32 years ago, I have just retired after serving Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue for 20 years. So, we are an interesting pairing for a sermon conversation!
I think it would be good to confound any binary assumptions about us, so I would like to begin by asking you to share the ways in which you feel you have been an innovator as well as a guardian of the tradition in Liberal Judaism.
Andrew:
Thanks Elli; in some ways we are so different, but we both have a deep passion for Liberal Judaism and I hope that Liberal Judaism will always be a tolerant home, as I think it has been, for Jews holding different views on many positions. I suppose I am now seen as an insider but originally, I felt an outsider coming from Birmingham and, I’ll be honest, never feeling completely accepted by the then London hierarchy. But I supposed I toned down my Brummie accent and got involved. The rabbi of my childhood and youth was Bernard Hooker and Birmingham Liberal Synagogue of those days was classic Liberal…85% English services, no head coverings or tallus’s, and deepdown I’m still an old-style Liberal Jew.
What does that mean? As a guardian I think it means not adopting customs just because “they are traditional”, for there are also Liberal Jewish traditions to respect. For instance, I think it makes much sense to honour the key statement of our religion, the Shema, by standing for it. I’m not happy when the full Amidah is said silently, forgetting that “traditionally” it is then repeated out loud. I would never omit the Kaddish or not read the Torah scroll, because there was only 8 people present. I could never understand why it was treife to sing a Psalm in English when one has just read one in the vernacular. And as well as guarding the values of Liberal Judaism in the UK & Ireland, I have been privileged to work over the past 40 years in helping Progressive Judaism to thrive on the European continent, especially the Former Soviet Union. And here I have tried to insist that patrilineal or equilinial descent is the only ethical definition of Jewish status.
But that does not mean that Liberal Judaism should not be innovative and reconsider its attitude to traditions earlier Liberal Jews abandoned. The late great Rabbi John Rayner rediscovered Tikkun Leyl Shavuot and Selichot services and I reckon his rediscovering led to Orthodox communities reintroducing them. And though, as a child we said, Happy New Year I am more comfortable saying Shanah Tovah or Gut Yontif. Times change and Liberal Jews who never want to change are not Progressive.
The aspect of my rabbinate that gives me most satisfaction was Kadimah Summer School Sharon & I founded – 50 years ago. And it was there that we introduced Birkat Hamazon after each meal (I’ll be honest and say except breakfast …still asleep!). Nowdays there would be a riot if it was missed out. We introduced Havdalah that for many is the most moving moment of a Conference and I note that during the pandemic many congregations have an online Havdalah when they never had one before. Strange really that such a touchy feely ritual works on line…for this we must thank the Debbie Friedman lai lais.
I could talk about liturgy, a real test of the changing nature of Liberal Judaism, again aiming to be inclusive and up to date. I was honoured to be part of two generations of changes : removing thee’s and thou’s and then the Lord and gendered English, and now learning to say Berucha At Shechina and Mecheletet Chaim. But let me wrap up with the thought that our founder Lily Montagu is associated with the phrase Prophetic Judaism……if I have any influence left, I think it vital we stress both words…prophetic, yes, fighting for social justice, inclusion, equality. But we must also stress the need for Judaism, for ritual, prayer, Shabbat observance, study and peoplehood.
Andrew to Elli:
I’m not sure I have answered your question, but maybe you can give me your answer: how do you feel? You’ve certainly been an innovator and broken down many walls and given the lead on so many contemporary issues as well as making us think about our relationship with God with your Compelling Commitments and so a guardian too?
Elli:
I think that for me the powerful need for inclusion that brought me into the rabbinate has always involved a combination of being a guardian and an innovator. I felt compelled to actively engage in my Jewish life and in the life of the Jewish community, both, because as the child of a Viennese refugee, I took to heart Emil Fackenheim’s additional commandment, not to give Hitler a posthumous victory[1], and because rather than continuing to live on the margins, I wanted to find a way of including myself, and others, who felt and were excluded – lesbians, gay men, bisexual and transgender people (we didn’t use the acronym LGBT back then) – in the life of the Jewish community. I remember my final interview at Leo Baeck College and the chair of the Committee, Rabbi Sydney Brichto, sounding perplexed and rather irritated, asking me how it was that as a lesbian and a radical feminist, I was so traditional?
Hitler didn’t just destroy 6 million individual Jewish lives, Nazism destroyed tens of thousands of Jewish communities. After the Sho’ah we have a responsibility to revive Jewish communal life; but not by going backwards or mimicking Orthodox Judaism. We are not Orthodox; we are Liberal, and so committed to responding to the needs of the age, as Lily Montagu put it[2], and to the needs of people. The only way we can genuinely ensure a vibrant Jewish life and a vibrant, living Liberal Judaism is, in the spirit of the parashah, T’rumah, at Exodus chapter 25[3], by inviting individuals on their journeys to bring their precious gifts together, their unique qualities and skills, for the development of the community, so that Jewish communal life encompasses all our lives and all of who we are in all our glorious diversity.
And of course, the content and the tone and colour of that communal life needs to be Jewish. What do I mean by Jewish content? That we draw on the Torah and rabbinic literature as we create new interpretations that inform our practice as Liberal Jews. And Jewish tone and colour? That we incorporate traditional as well as contemporary liturgical melodies and rituals as we interweave the heritage we have received, with the materials of our lives today.
During the 32 years that I have worked as a rabbi, I have met with scores of individuals, who, approaching the synagogue because of their longing to belong and feel included, wanted to engage in Jewish learning and live Jewishly. More than anything else, it has been listening to the stories of individuals and their desire to participate as themselves in the life of the congregation that has propelled much of the innovation that I have introduced: my weekly Access to Hebrew and Exploring Judaism programmes, the diversification of Shabbat services, including a monthly Beit Midrash Shabbat morning service focussed on the parashah, the empowerment of lay readers to lead services in their own way, the invitation to the congregation to sit or to stand as they choose and as they are able. And so, for example, when we rebuilt the synagogue, as an eco-friendly, inclusive space, we decided not to have a bimah to ensure maximum accessibility, both, physical and psychological. For me, inclusion has always involved enabling all those who wish to be included to live as Jews, as Liberal Jews, committed to equality and justice for all, who are nourished and sustained by Jewish teaching and practice.
Elli to Andrew:
So, Andrew, what lessons do you think can be drawn from our practice as a rabbinic guardians and innovators for enabling Liberal Judaism to be a truly inclusive movement?
Andrew to Elli:
Listen to all of our members, both the radicals and the dinosaurs like me.
But let’s end with the path that we both encourage… our Jewish tradition… the Sedra… the Festival code in this week’s parashah, Emor… a reminder that in our Judaism practice: we celebrate with the community but also as individuals within it.
Elli:
Yes, Andrew, we return, as Jews always do to the weekly Torah portion that structures Jewish liturgical life and reconnects us week after week, year after year, in an eternal cycle, to the source of Jewish teaching and practice: the Torah.
How fitting, as you say, that this week’s parashah is Emor, where we find in Leviticus chapter 23, the festival cycle as observed in Temple times, and are reminded that Shabbat is the first festival, the model for all the others: mikra kodesh, a ‘sacred convocation’; literally, a sacred ‘calling’ of the community together, which is what all the festivals are about: the community gathering, as we are doing today.
Of course, a calling of the community together assumes that we gather in one place. Nevertheless, the calendar of sacred days is fundamentally, just that: it’s a cycle of time. Today, on Shabbat, and throughout the conference, the community, the family of Liberal Judaism, is and will be sharing sacred moments in time. And yet, as we do so online, we are in different places, and that is important because it reminds us of our diversity; it reminds us that we are called to acknowledge and honour the different spaces that we occupy in our lives; our different backgrounds and circumstances, our different experiences and ways of being in the world. And so, we are called, not so much to break down walls as to open doors; the doors of the chambers of our hearts; the doors of our synagogues – and to set up a metaphorical tent, a mishkan, that extends across space and encompasses us all.
Shared ‘sermon’: Rabbi Dr Andrew Goldstein and Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah
Liberal Judaism Biennial, Shabbat Morning Service
1st May 2021 – 19th Iyyar 5781
THE PRACTICE OF INCLUSION
Introduction: Why a radical feminist Jewish lesbian decided to train for the Rabbinate
Good evening everyone. Thank you, Nigel for inviting me to speak to you all this evening. I’m going to begin with a sobering backdrop to our lives and take you back briefly to that devastating time over 75 years ago.
One third of the world Jewish population was murdered and tens of thousands of Jewish communities across Europe were destroyed in the Sho’ah, meaning ‘devastation’, ‘ruin’ or catastrophe’, which is the preferred Jewish designation of the Holocaust[1]. The Nazis also persecuted and murdered the Roma people, disabled people, gay men, lesbians and nonconforming women, as well as communists and socialists. The child of a mother, whose parents fled pogroms in the Russian Pale in 1905, and a father whose own father was incarcerated in Dachau concentration camp after Kristallnacht in November 1938, after I came out in 1978 and became active in the Women’s Liberation Movement and Lesbian Feminism, as a Jew living in the shadow of the Sho’ah, I began to realise that a vibrant Jewish lesbian life couldn’t be forged out of those horrors…
And then, it became obvious to me that I needed positive reasons for being Jewish when, in the aftermath of Israel’s first Lebanon war in 1982, the media reacted with anti-Semitic tropes that included depicting Prime Minister begin as Hitler. Disappointingly, the feminist media, represented by the WLM weekly newsletter, the monthly magazine, Spare Rib and Outwrite, the black feminist newsletter jumped onto the bandwagon. Fortunately, Jewish feminists had already began to connect and I was part of a Jewish Lesbian group, which meant that I was not dealing with this hostile atmosphere on my own. And so, in the company of other Jewish lesbians, rather than be defined by anti-Semitism, I started to explore what it meant for me to be a Jew.
My Jewish education having stopped, aged 8 ½, when my brother became bar mitzvah, I decided to go to Liberal Judaism’s Montagu Centre in central London and learn to read Hebrew. That was the beginning of my rabbinic journey. Very quickly, I went from novice Hebrew reader to applicant for the Leo Baeck College rabbinic programme, starting in autumn 1984.
It was just as well that I became absolutely determined to do what I could to contribute to making Jewish life more egalitarian and inclusive because the next five years were almost impossibly challenging. But I wasn’t alone. Another lesbian, Sheila Shulman, who sadly, died in 2014, not long after we celebrated the 25th anniversary of our ordinations, also decided to embark on the rabbinate at that time. We both belonged to the same Jewish Lesbian group, but hadn’t said a word to one another about it. Clearly, it was meant to be. Except that the Jewish world, even the progressive Jewish world, wasn’t quite ready for two ‘out’ lesbians. We were both put on probation for the full five years of the programme – the usual probation period is one year – and were told that we could be asked to leave at any time if the two progressive movements that sponsored the college, Liberal Judaism Reform Judaism, felt that their constituent congregations were not prepared to accommodate us. Fortunately, the first gay rabbi in Britain, Lionel Blue, became my tutor, and he and other key teachers offered both Sheila and I enormous support. I was very honoured to be ordained by Lionel on 9 July 1989.
Working as a lesbian rabbi in the mainstream Jewish community
When I first began working as a rabbi, I experienced a lot of challenges in my efforts to ensure equality and inclusion for LGBT+ people, particularly, around the issue of trying to secure same-sex marriage.
Back in 1989, Lionel, Sheila and I were the only LGBT rabbis in Britain. Following ordination, Sheila co-founded with a group of other lesbians, Beit Klal Yisrael, a synagogue which has been a beacon of inclusivity in the Jewish community ever since. Meanwhile, I became rabbi of the mainstream Reform synagogue that I had served as a rabbinic student in my fifth year.
I’m not going to recite the litany of homophobia and persecution I have experienced in the early years of my rabbinate – which included a small group lobbying to oust me from that first post. The good news is that since I became part of Liberal Judaism in 1998, beginning with a two-year stint at Leicester Progressive Jewish Congregation and then going on to the just over 20 that I have been rabbi of Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue, the involvement of LGBT+ rabbis – now 20% of the progressive rabbinate – has generated a major transformation in Jewish life. In 2000 Liberal Judaism established a rabbinic working party on same-sex relationships, including two LGBT+ rabbis: Rabbi Mark Solomon, who grew up in Sydney and left the orthodox rabbinate for Liberal Judaism in the early 1990s – and me. Liberal Judaism has been championing the rights of LGBT+ people ever since. In December 2005, LJ published the first fruits of the working party, a booklet of commitment ceremonies to coincide with the Civil Partnership Act coming into force.[2]
LJ then went on to support the campaign for equal marriage. In the past few years, LJ has also provided a home for a series of LGBT+ projects: ‘Rainbow Jews’, exploring the heritage of LGBT+ Jews; ‘Rituals Reconstructed’, creating opportunities for LGBT+ Jews to develop our own rituals; ‘Twilight People’, a multifaith transgender initiative; and ‘Rainbow Pilgrims’, which focuses on the lives of LGBT+ migrants and asylum seekers who come to the UK.[3]
A lesbian rabbi at Brighton Hove Progressive Synagogue
So: a very positive story of LGBT+ inclusion within Liberal Judaism over the past 20 years. But this evening, I’ve been asked to focus on my experience of working to make Brighton and Hove Progressive synagogue a place of welcome inclusion for LGBT+ people.
When I left the Reform Synagogues of Great Britain over the issue of same-sex marriage in July 1997, there was as a vacancy at BHPS, so, thinking that It would be nice to live in the LGBT-friendly atmosphere of Brighton and Hove, I applied. But at that time the Union of Liberal and Progressive Synagogues that came to be called Liberal Judaism, wasn’t any more hospitable, and I wasn’t invited for an interview.
Thankfully, the following summer the congregation I had served as a rabbinic student in my fourth year, Leicester Progressive, offered me a weekend-a-month position, which felt very supportive. I then left London to live in Brighton in March 2000, and when the post at BHPS became vacant again in July 2000, I put in another application. Fortunately, with the help of the Executive Director of Liberal Judaism at the time, Rabbi Dr Charles Middleburgh, who had persuaded the synagogue leadership to speak to me, after an initial conversation, I was interviewed – by the entire council, the governing body of the synagogue, as it happened. The notion of appointing a lesbian feminist as Rabbi seen as potentially extremely controversial, the council decided to make the decision themselves, rather than take the proposal to a general meeting of the members of the congregation, so I got the job.
2000-2001
In my first year as Rabbi of BHPS, half a dozen members chose to resign their membership rather than have a lesbian as a rabbi. Fortunately, I also received much support from the Council and its officers. After each resignation, the then president of the congregation would call me up and reassure me that I had the support of the Council and that I shouldn’t take it personally, Bear in mind, that each resignation meant a membership subscription fee lost.
So, that first year was challenging. Thankfully, I enjoyed the support of the majority of the congregation, so, I found my feet. I also found that the congregation was willing for us to take a journey together.
2001-2004
Because of my experience as a lesbian on the margins of the Jewish community, the principal priority of my rabbinate has always been the inclusion of people on the margins: in particular, LGBTQI+ people, but also patrilineal Jews, Jews in mixed relationships, women, who had not received a Jewish education as children; people who for one reason or another were unaffiliated or had disaffiliated
And so, as soon as I began at BHPS, I established weekly Access to Hebrew and Exploring Judaism programmes. At the AGM in 2001, the decision was taken to diversify Sabbath services to make them more appealing to a wider range of people. In September 2002, we held our first outreach event on a Sunday morning, headlined as: ‘Are you Jewish or Jew-ish?’ Advertising in the local press and on BBC Radio Sussex, we had no idea how many people would cross the threshold. 70 people – Jewish, Jew-ish and non-Jewish – showed up! Another important change was the council’s decision to adopt a Hebrew name: Adat Shalom v’Rei’ut, ‘Congregation of Peace and Friendship’ – a name that reflected the welcoming, nurturing ethos of the synagogue – and also to give the monthly newsletter a name that reflected this ethos: Open Door.
2005-2011
With inclusion firmly on the agenda, in 2005, after participating in two Sunday mornings of homophobia training, conducted by my partner – now my spouse – Jess Wood, in her capacity as Director of Allsorts Youth Project. the council adopted Liberal Judaism’s policy on the inclusion of LGBT+ individuals and couples and took the decision to allow same-sex ceremonies to be held in the synagogue. Indeed, in March 2006, Jess and I had the joy of celebrating our wedding with the synagogue packed to the rafters. In due course, the council also followed Liberal Judaism’s lead in supporting and endorsing Equal Marriage.
In addition to these changes, I asked the council to look at its publicity materials, and suggested changes that would state that the congregation welcomes people on the margins, including LGBT+ people, people in mixed relationships, patrilineal as well as matrilineal Jews, and so on. And so, in addition to revamping the synagogue web-site, a new attractive synagogue leaflet was created – at a time when paper communications were still important.
Needless to say, before too long more people, who had hitherto lived on the margins, including LGBT+ people, started attending services and study sessions and other events.
2011-2021: The last ten years
And then, with growing awareness of the marginalisation of trans people, the council’s plans in 2011 to rebuild the synagogue as a totally accessible space encompassed installing an all-gender accessible toilet downstairs and an all-gender toilet upstairs – with requisite signage – proclaiming loud and clear that when we say ‘all are welcome’, we really mean it.
The rebuilt synagogue was inaugurated on Sabbath of the festival of Chanukkah, on 12 December 2015. In 2017, one of our members, who had become bar mitzvah with me at the synagogue celebrated her transition as a Trans woman, with a special ceremony during a Shabbat morning service. Then in 2018, very significantly, the council unanimously endorsed the Education committee’s proposal to offer each 12-year-old the option of preparing to become bar, bat, or non-binary gender b’ mitzvah, rather than continue to assume their gender identity.
Meanwhile, the synagogue began to connect with the LGBT+ calendar of the city. I had already participated over the years in LGBT+ History Month, and other LGBT+ community events, by giving talks and sharing panels, and had also participated in Trans Pride. So, the decision was taken to host a Sabbath evening meal with blessings, songs and reflections on the eve of Brighton Pride 2016. Open to our own congregants, it was also open to anyone who wished to attend. The event was so successful that until the pandemic struck, eve of Sabbath shared meals have been held on the eve of Pride each year through 2019. At one of these, cis ally, Rabbi Janet Darley, came to speak to us and showed a film of the special LGBT+ Seder meal held each year at her congregation, South London Liberal Synagogue.
In addition to the annual eve of Pride event, the new building has hosted exhibitions created by the various Liberal Judaism LGBT+ projects I mentioned earlier, including, Rainbow Jews, Rainbow Pilgrims, and Rituals Reconstructed.
Creating an inclusive congregation
I have focused on the journey to inclusion of one synagogue. What does it take to make a synagogue – or a church, or a mosque, or a temple – a place of welcome and inclusion?
My 20-year experience with BHPS suggests a number of key factors:
- That the larger movement to which the particular congregation belongs makes inclusion and equality a priority, and takes action to demonstrate that commitment.
- That the spiritual leader of the congregation is fully committed to making inclusion and equality a priority.
- That the lay leadership of the congregation is prepared to work with their spiritual leader to make inclusion a reality.
- That congregants themselves are prepared to open their hearts to welcome others into their midst.
With all these elements in place, it is possible to transform the culture of a congregation. And let’s remember, that when we are talking about creating a culture of welcoming and inclusion, people don’t approach our congregations as categories, they are individuals, with their own lives and stories and journeys. Being welcoming and inclusive, comes down to how we treat each and every individual who comes knocking at the door, or who sends a message to the website or an email to the office.
I would like to close by sharing with you one of my favourite passages from the Torah – which is at the beginning of the Book of Exodus chapter 25, and introduces a theme that takes up most of the rest of the book; the building of the mishkan, the tabernacle in the wilderness (Exodus 25:1-8):
The Eternal One spoke to Moses, saying: /Speak to the Israelites, that they take for Me an offering; from everyone whose heart makes them willing you shall take my offering. / And this is the offering that you shall take from that which is theirs: gold, and silver and brass; / and blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine linen, and goats’ hair, / and rams’ skins dyed red, and sealskins and acacia-wood; / oil for the light, spices for the anointing oil, and for the sweet incense; / onyx stones, and stones to be set, for the cape and for the breastplate. / Then let them make Me a sanctuary, that I may dwell among them.
The Jewish people has not had a physical sacred place, a mishkan, a tabernacle, a Temple, for almost 2000 years since the Romans destroyed the last Temple in 70 CE, but, nevertheless, there are very important messages in these verses for our lives today. That individuals contribute voluntarily. That each person brings their own special gifts for the creation of community. That participation involves enhancing the community with our personal contributions. That the Eternal One dwells amongst the people when every individual offering is included. I’ve been fortunate to spend the last 20 years of my rabbinate at Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue. In the past two decades the congregation has gone on a journey to becoming an inclusive congregation. As I prepare to retire in a few days’ time, just prior to my 66th birthday on Monday, my hope is that before too long all congregations of every faith and culture will find ways of accepting and embracing the gifts of LGBTQI+ people and all those who seek to contribute to communal life.
Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah
Brighton and Hove Sexuality, Gender and Faith Group
Zoom meeting, Tuesday, 27 April 2021 at 7.30 pm
-
Holocaust means ‘burnt offering’, suggesting that the murder of the Jewish people had a sacred quality to it. Alternatively, Sho’ah, found in the Hebrew Bible, e.g. in Isaiah chapter 10, verse 3, more directly suggests the impact: ruin, desolation. ↑
-
Covenant of Love. Service of Commitment for Same-Sex Couples. Liberal Judaism, London, 2005. ↑
-
See: https://www.liberaljudaism.org/what-we-do/lgbtqi-projects/ ↑
Climate catastrophe and planning for the next seven years
‘Thought’ on Mikkeitz – Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah
LJ E-Bulletin, 12.23
COP28, which brought together 50,370 delegates (including 2,456 fossil-fuel lobbyists), 15,063 registered NGOs, and 1,293 Media organisations, concluded on 13 December after two weeks of intense deliberations in a compromise: an agreement to transition away from fossil fuels, but no commitment to phase them out https://unfccc.int/cop28 https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2023/dec/05/record-number-of-fossil-fuel-lobbyists-get-access-to-cop28-climate-talks https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2023/dec/13/cop28-second-draft-text-of-climate-deal-calls-for-transitioning-away-from-fossil-fuels
Twenty-eight years of UN climate conferences, so far. The target for avoiding the permanent breach of the 1.5°C increase in global warming, is in just seven years’ time. What are the plans for those seven years?
Interestingly, ‘sevens’ are an important feature of the Torah, from the seventh day set apart for ceasing from work (Genesis 2:1-3), through the seven-year agricultural cycle, and the seven cycles of seven culminating in Yoveil, ‘Jubilee’ in the 50th year, a year of D’ror, ‘Liberty’, proclaimed on Yom Kippur with the blasting of the shofar (Leviticus 25).
In this week’s parashah, Mikkeitz (Genesis 41:1-44:17), we encounter the number seven in the context of the ongoing Joseph story. Pharaoh has dreamt two dreams: First, seven fat healthy-looking cows are eaten by seven lean ones, and then seven abundant ears of corn are swallowed up by seven feeble ones. On waking, Pharaoh is keen for an interpretation. His Chief Butler remembers that when he was in prison, a certain Hebrew slave interpreted his dream, as well as the dream of the Baker, who was imprisoned with them, and that the interpretations had come to pass. Fetched out of prison, Pharaoh reiterates his dreams to Joseph, who promptly explains them: ‘The dream of Pharaoh is one… / The seven good cows are seven years; and the seven good ears are seven years: the dream is one. / And the seven ill-favoured cows and the seven empty ears blasted with the east wind; they shall be seven years of famine’ (41:25-27). Going on to inform Pharaoh that he should designate someone to oversee the taking up of the produce of a fifth of the land during the seven years of plenty to provide food for the seven years of famine, Pharaoh decides to appoint Joseph to the task. The plan goes so well that there is more than enough to feed the people when crops fail, which is why the famine having extended to Canaan, Jacob decides to send his ten eldest sons down to Egypt to buy corn (Genesis 41: 1-3).
With those seven years before the 2030 deadline at the forefront of our minds, we are all too aware that not only is there no plan in place to ensure that the 1.5° Celsius limit is not breached, but that the UK government is in the process of generating policies that will mean the deadline for UK compliance is extended for another five years to 2035 https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2023/sep/20/uk-net-zero-policies-scrapped-what-do-changes-mean https://www.which.co.uk/news/article/government-delays-ban-on-new-petrol-and-diesel-cars-aS7HJ8O5JC3q
There is a particularly pressing issue in connection with the failure to meet the 2030 deadline, which our Torah portion highlights. As the climate continues to heat, the planet is increasingly beset by extreme weather events year after year, both droughts and floods. What happens to life-giving crops, like corn, maise, wheat and barley in these conditions? They are utterly destroyed; unable to thrive, either, in the baked cracked soil, or when the ground is submerged in water. The global refugee crisis is not only driven by war and persecution, it is also a product of famine, flood and destitution. The famine having extended to Canaan, Jacob’s sons went down to Egypt to buy corn from the store houses. As we contemplate impending climate catastrophe, we may well ask: Where are the store houses? Where are the plans to feed and house millions of destitute people? Closing with the death of Joseph, the focus of the last portion of the Book of Genesis, Va-y’chi (Genesis 47:28-50:26), is on Joseph’s reunion with Jacob and the whole family moving to Egypt, and settling there. Refugees from famine made welcome. But then, the Book of Exodus opens with a tale of a new Pharsaoh ‘who did not know Joseph’ (Exodus 1:8), and the fate of the ‘children of Israel’, the descendants of Jacob, changes dramatically from peaceful coexistence to slavery and genocide (Ex. 19-16). It’s a familiar story, retold at Pesach. So well-known that sometimes we forget that before they became a persecuted people, the ‘children of Israel’ lived and thrived in the land of Goshen by the Nile in Egypt for many generations in peace, prosperity and security (Genesis 47:5-6; Exodus 1:1-7). Of course, minority peoples, especially, migrants and refugees, dependent on the goodwill of the host nation, are always vulnerable to persecution. As Jews, we know this only too well. It is for this reason that as we call on the governments of the world to keep to the 2030 deadline, we must also continue to demand that climate refugees and those in flight from war and persecution are given sanctuary amongst us.
THE LEO BAECK COLLEGE RABBI LIONEL BLUE MEMORIAL LECTURE
LGBTQ Panel: What is the Legacy of Queer Rabbis? Rabbis Judith Levitt, Daniel Lichman, indigo Raphael, Judith Rosen-Berry, Elli Tikvah Sarah, Anna Wolfson Finchley Reform Synagogue, 8 November 2023
Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah’s contribution to the Panel
Personal introduction
It’s good to be here with you all for this special event.
I was ordained on July 9th 1989 by my tutor, Rabbi Lionel Blue, Zichrono Livrachah, alongside my classmate Rabbi Sheila Shulman, Zichronah Livrachah. May their memory be for blessing.
Lionel and Sheila are both in my thoughts this evening.
Given that at that time, Lionel was the only out gay rabbi, and that Sheila and I became the first lesbians to receive s’michah at Leo Baeck College, some background feels appropriate.
I met Sheila when we were both involved in creating a Jewish Lesbian Group following the first Jewish Feminist conference in London in January 1982. The Jewish Feminist movement was formed in response to the experience of marginalisation felt by Jewish women in the WASP milieu of the Women’s Liberation Movement.
Later that year, Israel invaded Lebanon, and the Women’s Liberation Movement got caught up in anti-Israel / anti-Zionist sentiment, expressed chiefly through the weekly Xeroxed WLM newsletter, and the monthly journal, Spare Rib. Our Jewish lesbian group began to write letters.
We also started reading Jewish writers. One of the books we tackled was Emil Fackenheim’s, The Jewish Return Into History (Schocken Books, New York, 1978). After we read the chapter about the 614th commandment, ‘Thou shalt not give Hitler a posthumous victory’, I began to feel compelled to commit myself more fully to Jewish communal existence.
I had been a Lesbian Separatist. I was still a radical feminist when I decided in 1983 to apply to the LBC rabbinic programme. I was motivated by two imperatives: to contribute to the rejuvenation of Jewish life after the Sho’ah, and to do what I could to help transform the Jewish community so that it would become fully inclusive.
From the very outset, it was a struggle. During the interview process, Sheila and I were subjected to two psychological assessments, rather than the usual one. When we were accepted, we were put on probation for the full five years of the rabbinic programme. Enquiring about the terms of probation and what behaviour might constitute a breach, we were told that no one knew, and that we might be asked to leave at any time, if the two movements that funded the college were not happy.
Our situation remained precarious right up to ordination. It was for this reason that we insisted that the names of the ordinands should appear on the ordination invitation, so the college couldn’t back out at the last moment.
Even after we received s’michah, since we were both taking up positions under the auspices of the Reform movement, the Rabbinic Assembly spent an entire day debating whether or not we should be accepted as members.
During the challenging obstacle course of rabbinic training, establishing a connection with the Jewish Gay and Lesbian Group, and leading the monthly Erev Shabbat chavurah services provided a much-needed oasis of support and solidarity.
So much has changed over the past almost thirty-five years. I will say more when I reflect on ‘formative moments in my queer rabbinate’. Suffice it to say now: When I retired at the end of April 2021 after over twenty years as Rabbi of Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue, I had the satisfaction of knowing that the congregation had been transformed into a proud, vibrant, and inclusive centre of Jewish life.
What have been formative moments in your queer rabbinate?
The first formative moment
From the time that I entered Leo Baeck College, I knew that I wanted to be a rabbi in a mainstream Liberal or Reform synagogue, so I could work with congregants to make congregational life inclusive.
I was thrilled when the shul I served as a 5th year student, Buckhurst Hill Reform Synagogue, invited me to be their first full-time rabbi.
Things went well for a couple of years, but then a small group began to agitate against me. One couple was afraid that I might molest their daughters. Fortunately, when it became clear that some people wanted to get rid of me, a groundswell of support, which manifested itself at the AGM that year, overcame the opposition. Grateful for that validation, I was nonetheless very disheartened by the homophobia that had preceded it, and when the post of Director of the Programmes Division in the reorganised RSGB was created, I applied and got the job, starting in the autumn of 1994.
The second formative moment
I loved my new role, and felt, as they say, that ‘things could only get better’. One development and one event fuelled my optimism: At my suggestion, a rabbinic/lay working party on same sex commitment ceremonies was set up in 1995; a few months later in February 1996, I appeared in my official capacity alongside Peter Tatchell on BBC 2’s ‘Heart of the Matter’ with Joan Bakewell on the issue of lesbian and gay equality.
They also say that ‘pride comes before a fall’: In September that year, I gave the Kol Nidrei sermon at Radlett and Bushey Reform Synagogue, the shul where, with the support of the then Rabbi, Barbara Borts, I had begun teaching in the cheder the summer before entering Leo Baeck College. Addressing the theme of Covenant, I mentioned that I was going to be conducting a ‘covenant of love’ ceremony for a lesbian couple.
The immediate horrified reaction of a handful of people indicated that I had misjudged the moment. The broader reaction that followed Yom Kippur underlined the gravity of my mistake. I paid a very high price for it. Having to give multiple apologies. Receiving hate-mail. Because there were those in the wider Reform movement who no longer felt comfortable working with me, in March 1997 I offered my resignation, which was accepted.
When I was preparing to leave RSGB in July 1997, Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue were seeking a new rabbi. I applied, but I was not invited for interview. Fortunately, after a visit in January 1998 to Leicester Progressive, one of the congregations I had served as a 4th year student, I was invited to be their first rabbi. I began working on a weekend-a-month basis six months later.
The third formative moment
In July 2000, after I had already moved to Brighton, Brighton and Hove Progressive Synagogue was once again looking for a rabbi. The then Liberal Judaism Executive Director, Rabbi Dr Charles Middleburgh urged me to re-apply. Meanwhile, he encouraged the lay leadership to have an informal conversation with me.
It was during that informal conversation with the congregation’s Chair and Vice President that the Vice President referred to a report on the Jewish Chronicle’s front-page the previous Friday about the decision taken by Finchley Reform Synagogue not to employ a lesbian as full-time Principal Rabbi. The Vice President asked me how to avoid that happening at BHPS. I suggested that rather than leaving the decision to the congregation, the Council, the shul’s elected representatives, should take responsibility for it. That is exactly what happened. After leading a Shabbat morning service, I was interviewed by the entire Council, and although the Vice Chair objected, the majority were prepared to take a leap into the unknown, and I was offered the job.
The fourth formative moment
I started work on December 1st 2000. Half a dozen member families resigned in the first six months. On Sukkot morning 2001, I conducted a blessing ceremony for the two children of a lesbian couple, who had joined the congregation when I became the rabbi. At Kiddush, the Vice Chair who had objected to my employment, confronted the Vice President. It was very gratifying to overhear her response: ‘This family belongs to our shul and all congregants are entitled to receive the congregation’s services on an equal basis.’ The Vice Chair and his family subsequently left the shul.
The fifth formative moment
I was a member of the LJ Rabbinic Working Party on Same Sex Commitment Ceremonies set up in 2000. The new policy was ratified at the LJ Council in 2002, and the Working Party was tasked with creating a liturgy.
With the publication of the new liturgy arranged for December 2005 to coincide with the Civil Partnership Act coming into force, and aware that there were a few BHPS Council members who were not completely on board, I suggested that the Council consider homophobia training before taking a vote on whether or not ceremonies might be conducted under the shul’s auspices. The Council agreed and attended two consecutive Sunday morning sessions conducted by my partner, Jess Wood, in her role as Founder Director of Allsorts, a charity working with LGBTQ Youth in Brighton. Shortly afterwards, the Council vote in support of same-sex ceremonies was unanimous.
When, two days after our Civil Partnership in March 2006, Jess and I celebrated our chuppah at the shul, half the congregation attended.
Achieving full acknowledgement for same-sex couples in the shul made it possible to re-draft the synagogue leaflet to include a welcome to LGBTQ individuals, couples and families. It also meant that when I met with individuals on their journeys, some of whom were LGBTQ, I could reassure them that they could make a home in the congregation, feel valued for who they were, and be supported to make their own unique contribution to congregational life.
The sixth formative moment
The rebuilding of the synagogue, which began in the autumn of 2011, and was completed fifty months later, created the opportunity for the congregation’s vision of an inclusive community to be expressed in the fabric of our congregational home.
In addition to refashioning the building so that it ensured complete physical accessibility, including a lift that could take a mobility scooter, and the absence of a bimah, attention was also paid to signalling a clear welcome to LGBTQ people. And so, a beautiful Rainbow Ark became the dominant feature of the sanctuary, and alongside female and male toilets, all-gender toilets, too.
In the past seven years since the rebuilding was completed, LGBTQ exhibitions and events have entered the shul calendar, including the annual eve of Brighton Pride Erev Shabbat celebration.
The seventh and final formative moment
The re-designed building opened for the first time on Shabbat Chanukkah December 12th 2015, when we were also celebrating the adult bat mitzvah of one of our lesbian members.
Present at Kiddush, was one of our younger members, whose bar mitzvah we had celebrated a few years earlier. I knew it was their birthday that day. I also knew that they were transitioning. I invited the congregation to sing her ‘happy birthday’. It was wonderful hearing everyone sing her new name. A few months later, we celebrated her again with a ceremony on a Shabbat morning sanctifying her transition, when she received a Mi Shebeirach in her chosen new Hebrew name.
More recently, a year after my retirement, one of the young people who had come to speak with me a few years earlier, a trans man who later studied for his conversion with me, was elected to the shul Council. In his new position, he was supported to organise the first eve of Trans Pride Erev Shabbat celebration in July.
I am very proud that BHPS continues to be a beacon of LGBTQ inclusivity.
Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah
LGBTQ Panel
Rabbi Lionel Blue Memorial Lecture (Leo Baeck College)
Finchley Reform Synagogue
8th November 2023 / 25th Cheshvan 5784
Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah
A PRAYER FOR PEACE BETWEEN ISRAELIS AND PALESTINIANS
As the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians continues decade after decade, to pray for peace seems a hopeless and naïve folly. And yet, today it is more urgent than ever that a resolution is achieved that acknowledges the needs of both peoples for peace and justice, sovereignty and security. And so, we pray:
El Malei Rachamim, God Full of Compassion, who heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds, we ask You to show all Your children the way of love and compassion, so that hatred ceases to scar their lives.
Ein Ha-Chayyim, Source of Life, we call upon You to send Your abundant blessings into every home, Israeli and Palestinian, so that new hope may overcome old fears.
Adonai Tzadik, Righteous One, who exhorts us to pursue Justice, we fervently pray that a spirit of righteousness may prevail, so that both peoples find the courage to reach a just settlement of their differences.
Oseh Shalom, Maker of Peace, who teaches us to be seekers of peace, we entreat You now to spread Your tabernacle of shalom–salaam over all the inhabitants of Your land, and to support the peacemakers among both peoples in their efforts to walk the path of reconciliation, so that a just peace may reign supreme at last – bimheirah b’yameinu, speedily in our own day.
And let us say: Amen.
Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah
Sh’mini Atzeret Acheret Shabbat, 7th October 2023 / 22nd Tishri 5784
Sh’mini Atzeret
the ‘Eighth (day of)
Closure’
concluding
the sacred season
the days set apart
for repairing ourselves
our relationships
our communities
our world
and then
rejoicing
in nature’s bounty.
But this year
in Israel
Sh’mini Atzeret
Acheret
‘another’
kind of closure
on that holy-day
which was also
Shabbat
monstrous
desecration
as Hamas terrorists
hearts-sealed-shut
hands
wielding guns
knives
stopped hearts
in their hundreds
young people
dancing
in the desert
into dawn
mowed down
babies
children
families
as they woke
to a new day
tortured
murdered
mutilated
their homes set aflame.
Meanwhile
girls and women
raped
dozens of lives
wrenched away
into captivity.
And now
Shabbat peace
shattered
into bloody fragments
the cycle of violence
continues
with no end
in sight
action and
reaction
over and over
never over?
Hope
in the possibility of
another way
Justice
Peace
a future
for Israelis
for Palestinians
overwhelmed.
Our challenge
as Jews
Muslims
Christians
Israelis
Palestinians
Humans
to replenish
our resources
of courage
fortitude
compassion
so that
Hope
is never extinguished.
Elli Tikvah Sarah
Simchat Torah
Simchat Torah[1]
the joy of Torah
joyous
respite
for agile minds
forever
diving
into the flow
of words
deciphering
and multiplying
their meanings
the annual rejoicing
stirring the heart
and the feet
to rapture.
Eitz Chayyim hi
la-machazikim bah
‘She is a Tree of Life
to those who grasp Her’
the Torah
clasped
in loving embrace
its ancient letters
dancing
from past
to present
from ending
to beginning
whirling
into new life
with every step.
Elli Tikvah Sarah
-
Post-Biblical festival that celebrates the completion of the annual cycle of weekly Torah readings from Genesis to Deuteronomy, and inaugurates the resumption of the cycle. ↑
Sh’mini Atzeret
Sh’mini Atzeret
the eighth day
after Sukkot[1]
that closes
the sacred season
of the seventh month.[2]
In ancient times
the annual cycle of
pilgrimage
to Jerusalem
also concluded
on that day.
And so
the returning pilgrims
shut down
for the bare months
of winter
shadowed
by concern
that the late harvest’s
bounty
might not last
until the spring
Aviv
the month of beginnings[3]
when the full moon
would coax them
out of their homesteads
summon them
to lift their spirits
and ascend
to Jerusalem
bearing the blessings
of new life
young lambs
in remembrance
of their ancestors’
redemption from slavery.[4]
And still
today
after centuries
of change and upheaval
flight and fruitfulness
their descendants
across the world
as in the land
called
to recall
the rhythms
of long-gone days
in the search
for meaning
and renewal.
Elli Tikvah Sarah
-
‘Booths’ (Leviticus 23.34-43). Also known as Chag ha-Asif, ‘the Feast of Ingathering’ (Exodus 23.16), the festival that celebrates the last harvest of the agricultural year. ↑
-
Literally, the ‘Eighth day of Closure’ (Leviticus 23.36; Numbers 29.35). ↑
-
Exodus 12.2; 13.4. Later given the Babylonian name, Nisan, the first month of the Jewish year. ↑
-
Exodus 12.1-11. ↑
Sukkot LJ E Bulletin
Sukkot, chag ha-asif, ‘the feast of ingathering’, is the concluding autumn festival of the ‘three feet’ festivals (shalosh r’galim), when our ancestors would go on pilgrimage to Jerusalem with their offerings (Exodus 23:14-17, Deuteronomy 16:16). The first is Pesach, chag ha-matzot, ‘the feast of unleavened bread’, in the spring. The second is Shavuot/Weeks, yom ha-bikkurim, ‘the day of first fruits’, also known as chag ha-katzir, ‘the feast of the harvest’, in the early summer
In the Torah‘s accounts of the festivals, there is also another cycle of three: the sacred days of the seventh month (Leviticus 23 and Numbers 28 and 29). The cycle consists of the first day, Yom T’ru’ah, a ‘Day of Blasting’ (Num. 29.1), which later became the New Year for years (Mishnah Rosh Ha-Shanah 1.1), the tenth day, Yom Kippur, referred to in the Torah as Yom Ha-Kippurim (Lev. 23.27), and the seven-day festival of Sukkot (followed by Sh’mini Atzeret, the ‘Eighth day of Closure’), beginning on the fifteenth day of the month (Lev. 23.23-36; 39-43; Num. 29.12-39).
Sukkot is the connecting link between the two cycles. Both cycles inaugurate a time of renewal: the renewal of the Israelites at Pesach, in the first month of the year, originally known as Aviv, ‘Spring’ (Exodus 13.4); the call to renewal, individual and collective, with the ‘blasting’ of the shofar, the ram’s horn on the first day of the seventh month in the autumn (Lev. 23.24). But the two cycles resonate differently. While the ‘three feet festivals’ are rooted in the earth, in the seasons and the cycles of nature, and in the history of journeying, the sacred days of the seventh month inhabit the realm of eternity.
The particular orientations of the two cycles are reflected in the festival that links them. Sukkot both concludes the agricultural cycle, and draws on and expands the themes of the first ten days of the seventh month. One of the ways it does this is through the reading on Sukkot of the biblical Book of Kohelet, Ecclesiastes, a work of wisdom literature that teaches about the fleeting nature of Life. The message is also conveyed more directly by the principal mitzvot of Sukkot: the sukkah and the lulav.
The two mitzvot connected with the sukkah concern ‘building’ and ‘dwelling’ in the fragile ‘hut’ that is open to the sky and to the elements (Mishnah Sukkah, chapters 1-2). Although a practical ritual, the meaning of the sukkah is complex. On the one hand, the sukkah represents the shelters used during agricultural labour in the fields once the people settled in the land beyond the Jordan, demonstrating a connection between the sukkah, and Sukkot as the late harvest festival. On the other hand, the passage in Leviticus 23 places the sukkah in the wilderness narrative: The people shall ‘dwell in sukkot so that your generations know that I made the Israelites dwell in sukkot, when I brought them out of the land of Egypt’ (Lev. 23.43). At first sight, this statement is straightforward. However, according to the Exodus narrative, the people dwelt in ‘tents’ (ohalim), not in ‘huts’ (sukkot) in the wilderness (Exodus 33.8). This suggests that the phrase in Leviticus 23.43 is a metaphorical reference to the refuge provided by God during the wilderness wandering years, a reading supported by a phrase in Isaiah concerning the future time when the presence of YHWH in cloud smoke and fire over Mount Zion will be accompanied by ‘a sukkah for a shadow in the day-time from the parching heat’ (Isaiah 4.6).
Alongside remembrance of the autumn harvest, the sukkah also signals the fragility of life, our vulnerability and dependence, which is why offering hospitality is a special obligation at Sukkot. Hospitality, especially to strangers and those in need remains a vital issue today. Traditionally, hospitality includes the invitation to seven special ‘guests’ – ushpizin (masculine) – from the Jewish past, a practice with its origins in the sixteenth-century kabbalistic mystical commentary on the Torah, the Zohar, ‘Book of Splendour’. In recent years the practice has extended to inviting seven significant ushpizot (feminine: see https://ritualwell.org/ritual/ushpizot/). Inviting people into the sukkah is both an opportunity to share the fruits of our labour with them, and a way of acknowledging the precariousness of existence, and our responsibility to offer refuge to others.
Turning to the lulav. The lulav has its origins in the reference in Leviticus to ‘taking’ on the first day of Sukkot, ‘the fruit of a tree of splendour, branches of palm trees, and boughs of thick trees, and willows of the brook’ and ‘rejoicing’ (Lev. 23.40). No reason is given in the passage in Leviticus for the particular selection of these four species. Nor are there any details of how the ‘rejoicing’ is to be conducted. The careful selection of the items, and the guidelines for shaking the lulav, made up of a palm branch, two willow and three myrtle branches, together with a citrus fruit, known as the etrog, is outlined in tractate Sukkah in the Mishnah and Talmud and in later codes (Mishnah Sukkah 3.1ff., Babylonian Talmud, Sukkah 37b-38a; Shulkhan Aruch, Orach Chayyim 651).
Although the emphasis is on practical details, it is clear from the instructions that, like the sukkah, the lulav is freighted with symbolic meaning. For example, the requirement to shake the lulav in the directions of the compass, East, South, North and West, and towards the heavens and towards the earth, is in recognition of ‘the One to Whom everything belongs’ (Babylonian Talmud Sukkah 37b). Holding the lulav and etrog together with our hands, and shaking it in the prescribed manner, provides a tangible reminder to give thanks for our material blessings and the bounty of the Earth. At the same time, shaking the lulav reinforces our awareness that we live our finite material lives in the context of the infinite and eternal, in which context everything passes, however hard we grasp
Yom Kippur Musaf
To plunge
like a stone
into
the depths of
The Day
Yoma[1]
weighted
with griefs
burdened
by regrets
lost
disorientated
hopeless.
But then
to discover
in the enveloping
darkness
our old home
waiting
to be claimed
nourishing
waters
nurturing us
into new life
opening
our hearts
to remembrance
healing
hope
inviting us
to take courage
to swim
upwards
towards the light
and begin again.
Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah
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Yoma is Aramaic for ‘The Day’. The name given to Yom Kippur by the Talmudic sages. ↑