TFTW Archive 2025 May

Shabbat B'Har/B'Chukkotai

Dear Members and Friends,

In a week that has seen two senseless and tragic murders outside a Jewish museum in Washington DC, in which the devastation in Gaza has intensified, the death toll risen, children are starving and medical supplies in hospitals are inadequate, it may seem a distraction to write about the momentous vote taken by Liberal Judaism and Reform Judaism last Sunday to create one Progressive Judaism movement. But the overwhelmingly in favour vote was historic and a moment of joy - more than 95% supported the creation of one movement – in Liberal Judaism it reached 98.1%.

I was privileged to be invited to be present at the Sternberg Centre for Judaism for the EGM. Rabbi Charley Baginsky, Chief Executive of Liberal Judaism, together with Chair of LJ, Karen Newman, were in one room, while Rabbi Josh Levy, CEO of Reform Judaism and his Chair, Paul Langsford, were in a room the other side of the corridor. Nothing grand – we were on the top floor overlooking the gardens. Ed Kessler, Chair of the Advisory Group was pacing the corridor like an expectant father; downstairs the press and photographers were waiting, together with an unopened bottle of champagne.

But no one was counting their eggs until they hatched. The atmosphere was tense. It was important to get the vote done and then let anyone who wanted to speak have the floor. Scores of faces lit up the screen as the Zoom room opened – chairs of congregations and rabbis. Each chair was asked to confirm their proxy and vote. The rabbis, too, had the option to do the same.

And then it was over, the door opened, Rabbi Josh and Rabbi Charley – together with Ed Kessler, the architects of this project – were relieved and overjoyed. Nearly ninety years after the ministers of West London Synagogue and our own LJS had attempted to take steps to cooperate more closely, and over forty years since serious merger talks collapsed between the Reform Synagogues of Great Britain and the Union of Liberal and Progressive Synagogues, eighty communities and their rabbis came together decisively and joyously to become one movement.

The issues that held us back in the past – our liturgies, the Liberal acceptance of patrilineal Jews provided they had a Jewish upbringing and education, the requirement of circumcision

for male proselytes in the Reform and a get for divorcees – are no longer divisive elements keeping us apart. Both movements accept children of a Jewish father or mother as Jewish, both movements officiate at mixed faith blessings following a civil marriage, Liberal Judaism has long had a reciprocal get for couples once their decree absolute is issued.

Rabbis, trained at Leo Baeck College, who are required to serve both movements while students, and who often move between those movements once ordained, come from the same stable.

And congregations are autonomous. The LJS is not going to change because the umbrella movement will encompass a larger number of synagogues. We will retain the style of our services, our prayer book, until it needs re-editing, our young people’s and adult education programme and everything else we undertake.

In a series of lectures given by Rabbi John Rayner and Rabbi David Goldberg (z’l) in 1984 as the two movements were working towards a merger, the former wrote: ‘The single greatest advantage, in my view, would be mutual enrichment. I mean the pooling of knowledge, ability, talent, creativity, skill. In all these respects the Reformers have much to give to us, and we have much to give to them’ (‘To Merge or Not to Merge’, three talks given by Rabbi David J. Goldberg and Rabbi John D. Rayner).

In what some see as the darkest chapter of Jewish history since the Second World War, the decision to create a new movement for Progressive Judaism, is a light on the horizon. The negativity, ignorance and prejudice that prevented a merger for ninety years has worn itself thin.

New leaders, able to bridge the divide and encourage congregations to trust a process of healing and understanding, dialogue and generosity of spirit, bring hope not only to our own world of Progressive Judaism, but to the tragic conflicts we are witnessing today – conflicts that cause acute inner tension and hurt to those who care about how we are with those who are not like ourselves.

Shabbat Shalom,

Alexandra Wright

Shabbat Acharey-Mot/Kedoshim

Dear Members and Friends,

My son’s little black cat has finally tasted freedom. At night she sits by the front door looking at me longingly. Often, she will stand on her hind legs and stretch her front paws up against the door, miaowing to be let out. Here is where danger lurks – the road, urban foxes, the sound of a dog barking. Yet nothing seems to phase her as she scampers along the path, her furry blackness disappearing into the darkness and the jungle of bushes and shrubs in front of the terrace of houses.

Sometimes she pauses on the front step and lifts her head, listening to the birds who are nesting in the roof of a neighbouring house. The parents can be seen flying in and out through a small hole just below the guttering.

I am learning from the cat how to see and listen to the environment around me differently. She can be so still and so quiet, her little nose pointing in the air or brushing the ground, her ears pointed forward, her body alert, her almond-shaped eyes gleaming in the dark, her tail upright, its tip switching slightly. She can be earnest in her stillness, and joyful as she escapes into the night.

I am reminded of Rabbi Yochanan’s saying in the Talmud (bEruvin 100b), that even if the Torah had not been given, we would have learned modesty from the cat, that stealing is objectionable from the ant and forbidden relations from the dove.

And perhaps such customs would have been sufficient to keep us from lawlessness and unrighteous behaviour. Or perhaps not. In the Jewish calendar, we have just passed the mid-point of the counting of the Omer – the forty-nine-day journey between Pesach and Shavuot, a journey that takes us from the first taste of freedom as we emerged from Egypt to the moment of revelation, responsibility, law and ethics.

So much more than modesty, honesty and sexual faithfulness is expected of us as Jews. We must be more than even the most naturally courteous of animals. We must be holy, as it states in this week’s parashah, ‘for I, the Eternal One your God am holy.’ Holiness is defined not as an abstract state of being – the separation of Israel from the nations in biblical terms, our consecration to God by means of the covenant – but holiness achieved through laws of justice, the repudiation of idolatry, the rights of the poor, honesty and fair courts of law, restraint in action and thought, and love – love of the stranger because we were strangers in the land of Egypt, and love of our neighbour.

The content of revelation, wrote Franz Rosenzweig, is love and human beings’ awareness of that love. It is the divine call to each one of us to love the Eternal One our God with all our heart, with all our soul and all our might. Again, I am not sure this is an emotional magnetism and chemistry, but a passion ensuring our words and actions have integrity, that our unlimited appetites and hands do not spoil the beauty of the environment, that we bring our children into the world with love and say farewell to our dearest ones with love.

At the heart of this week’s parashah, indeed at the heart of the Torah is what my colleague Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah calls the ‘compelling commitment to love not only our neighbours, but also the stranger in our midst; to liberate the oppressed, protect the vulnerable, and support the fallen; to pursue justice and to seek peace; to participate in the great task of Tikkun Olam, the repair of the world.’

And the ceaseless striving to fulfil this commitment is based on the love we have for ourselves – ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’ (Leviticus 19:18). ‘As yourself’ – that is the hardest part: to live for ourselves, to love what is within and to embrace what is beyond our own small worlds.
 
Shabbat Shalom,
 
Alexandra Wright

What is The Limit of Our Liberalism?

I remember reading a responsum to a fascinating question. A Progressive Rabbi shared a dilemma and asked the committee of Rabbinic scholars for a piece of advice.  A congregant asked the Rabbi to hold an Orthodox prayer service parallel to the main service. The Rabbi first said no, since the community's custom was egalitarian services. However, the Rabbi is wondering if the Jewish value of pluralism should change that decision, especially if the group wants to meet regularly and choose a Liberal synagogue to do so. (Mark Washofsky, Reading Reform Responsa: Jewish Tradition, Reform Rabbis, and Today's Issues, p. 56-71)

Would you allow such practice at The LJS? If you say no, then what is the limit of your liberalism? Isn’t the liberal way to accept differences? However, if you say yes to a gender segregated prayer with only male leaders, then what message does it send to the community where men and women are meant to be treated equally?

At first, the conclusion to this puzzling question surprised me. The responsum encouraged Reform Jews to allow an Orthodox prayer in their space, not because Orthodox Jews would do the same, but because Progressive Judaism stresses the importance of pluralism and tolerance. However, to preserve the sense of integrity and dignity of the synagogue, the Orthodox group must remain separate from the Progressive congregation and not include them in the official list of synagogue programmes.

In other words, as a Progressive Jew, I must respect the right of others to have different views and ways of practice, even if they do not respect me or my ways.

I would like to argue that it is not only Progressive Judaism that is pluralistic at its core, but Judaism in general. Mishnah has this teaching: "A human being mints many coins from the same mould, and they are all identical. But the God strikes us all from the mould of the first human and each one of us is unique." (Sanhedrin 4:5)

Talmud, the foundational text of modern Judaism, has a unique principle – whenever it describes an argument between Rabbis, it preserves all minority opinions alongside the winning position. In my view, this is the essence of Judaism. We do not try to have a unity of consensus. We know that disagreements are an essential part of life. Respectful debate and mutual scrutiny will lead to a better outcome for all.

This week, we marked Yom Ha-Zikkaron (the Memorial Day of IDF Soldiers and Victims of Terror) and Yom Ha-Atzmaut (Israel’s Independence Day). These days, so close together and yet so emotionally opposed, teach us something profoundly Jewish: the ability to hold complexity, to honour different truths, and to remain one people even when we do not feel like one.

This is not easy. In Israel and across the Jewish world, we are increasingly challenged not by disagreement itself, but by the way we treat each other when we disagree. We are witnessing a rise in polarisation and online cruelty—even within communities committed to tolerance. But Judaism does not fear disagreement. Our sages welcomed it. “These and those are the words of the living God,” the Talmud says of the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai (Eruvin 13b), precisely because they disagreed respectfully, and with humility.

The limit of our liberalism is not in ideas but in how we treat each other when we disagree. When debate becomes a weapon, when ideology is used to dehumanise, when frustration turns to verbal or physical abuse, that is where our liberalism must draw the line. Any call to attack, remove, or punish people for their views must be stopped and turned back to being rational and intellectual.

I hope we can build a future in which our diversity is not a threat, but our greatest strength. Let us be, in the words of Pirkei Avot, “disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving all people and drawing them close to Torah.”  All people, not only those you agree with. I hope the LJS, the British Jewish community, and Israeli society can be a place for passionate debate and principled difference, but never at the expense of kindness and personal safety.

Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Igor Zinkov