Open House Judaism

By Rabbi Elizabeth Tikvah Sarah

Like most people brought up in North London, I’ve hardly ever been to south-of-the-river South London.  I’ve passed through it, of course, many, many times – mostly on my way to Brighton or Beachy Head – before the building of the M25 replaced that particular bumper to bumper crawl through the endless suburbs south of the Thames with another kind of traffic nightmare – but I’ve actually visited South London no more than a couple of dozen times in my entire life so far.  And, in any case, none of those occasions constituted visits to South London as such:  I’ve been to the South Bank and its various cultural hot-spots; I’ve gone to two Liberal synagogues, at Kingston and Streatham respectively and been on Pride marches that ended up in Kennington and Brockwell Park, but I’ve never actually walked around any area south of the river.

What a confession!   Yes, indeed, North Londoners are a parochial lot – especially, perhaps, Jewish North Londoners…   Anyway, the point of my confession is to tell you a story about a brief encounter on a Clapham omnibus a couple of weeks ago.   I had just visited someone in the Trinity Hospice on the North side of Clapham Common, and was taking a bus to Clapham Junction Railway Station.   On the way to the Hospice from Clapham Common tube station, a distance of just a few hundred yards that took me over thirty minutes to complete, I had conducted a mini ad hoc survey on the subject of ‘how well do you know your local area’:  After talking to ten people, who were unable to direct me to the north side of Clapham Common – let alone the Hospice – I had convinced myself that no-one – not even people who live in South London – can find their way around it.   Anyway, once, by a process of elimination, I had begun to walk in the right direction, I did find someone who confirmed to me that the North side of the common was, indeed, straight ahead.

Thankfully, after a heart-rending visit, I found a bus to take me to Clapham Junction without too much difficulty.  But I didn’t know where to get off.  I asked the driver – and one of the passengers, over-hearing me, said:  ‘I’ll tell you when you need to get off, love, I’m going in that direction myself’.   The speaker was a short-ish man, say, in his late fifties, in shorts and a tea-shirt – it was a very warm day.  And then he added, ‘Why are you wearing that’ – pointing at the kippah on my head.  ‘Because I’m a Jew, a progressive Jew’, I responded, beginning my standard reply to such enquiries.  ‘Oh, I’m a Jew – I’ve not worn a kappel in years; I was brought up Orthodox’, he said.   For the remainder of that short ride, and the short walk to the station, he gave me a précis of his whole Jewish story:  Orthodox family; forced to attend cheder three times a week; bullying teachers; meaningless mumbling through his Bar Mitzvah portion – and then the great escape:  Not long after the bewildering, faintly terrifying experience of his Bar Mitzvah, he never returned to Jewish life – not ever.  Naturally, I told him – briefly – about Liberal Judaism:  He had never heard of it; he was astonished – and bemused – Liberal Judaism?   Impossible:  He knew what Judaism was and he didn’t want to have anything more to do with it; but maybe he might visit Brighton again some day: he’d not been there since he was a student, and didn’t know Jews lived there, too; let alone Liberal Jews…

A chance brief encounter.  There are not many Jews in South London – but, by chance, I met one of them – a kind of ex-Jew; one of the tens of thousands of ex-Jews who live all over Britain today, who rarely ever acknowledge their Jewish ‘roots’ – unless they happen to be reminded of them.   At the end of World War Two, according to Jewish statistical sources, the Jewish population of these shores was 450,000; today the number of people who identify as Jews, hovers around 300,000 – a figure much bolstered by the influx of Chassidic Jews from Hungary following the Russian invasion of that country in 1956.   So, there are an awful lot of ex-Jews around; like that man on the Clapham omnibus, going about their lives, without making any connections with Jewish life.

The Nazis murdered six million Jews on the continent of Europe.  Thankfully, they didn’t succeed in invading Britain, and so didn’t achieve their target of eliminating the 500,000 Jews that lived here at that time – according to their own estimates, recorded at the meeting of the Nazi top-brass that took place at the Villa at Wannsee on the outskirts of Berlin in 1942.   No, the Jews of this country escaped the Final Solution.  So, why the huge drop in the Jewish population of Britain during the post-war period?   That man on the bus provides part of an answer: flight from a form of Judaism that was meaningless at best.  Why remain a Jew, if being a Jew does not enhance your life in any way?

Why, indeed.  In this week’s parashah, B’chukkotai, the last portion of the Book of Leviticus (26:3-27:34), we find a series of blessings and curses – the latter very extensive and gruesomely elaborated.  It’s the ‘carrot and stick’ approach to inducing allegiance to Judaism:  If you keep my commandments, you will thrive and prosper; if you don’t, you will suffer terrifying afflictions.   Of the 300,000 Jews who do maintain a connection, however tenuous with Jewish life – how many do so because they are afraid they might be punished, if they don’t?   Maybe you think that’s a ridiculous question to ask in this day and age; the enlightened 21st century.  Well, the other mini ad hoc survey I like to conduct from time to time focuses on why people, who don’t attend synagogue at any other time during the year, come in such large numbers to the High Holy Day services.   I must say that when I ask BHPS congregants, who only come to the synagogue at Rosh Ha-Shanah and/or Yom Kippur, they mostly give me quite benign reasons, like:  ‘It reminds me of when I was a child, being with my parents’, or, ‘It acts like a spiritual re-charge for the year ahead’.  But I have been told – mostly by people with Orthodox backgrounds – ‘I have to be there – just in case something terrible happens later, if I don’t’, or, ‘I want to make sure that I’m written down in the Book of Life’.   Allegiance to Judaism induced by fear.

No wonder that when an individual, trained in the ‘Reward or Punishment’ approach to Jewish life, discovers that they are not struck down when they eat a bacon sandwich, they see no reason to remain Jewish.  That’s actually what that man on the Clapham omnibus said to me:  ‘A short while after my Bar Mitzvah, I ate a bacon sandwich one day and nothing happened…’   What a brave young man!   Feeling rebellious – he just had to test the Jewish teaching he’d been force-fed in the most direct way he could, by eating treif – and he lived to tell the tale!

Perhaps for those brought up within Liberal Judaism this all seems faintly absurd.  But you know; Liberal Jews by birth are a rare breed.  Just 10,000 Jews in this country belong to the synagogues of Liberal Judaism – and quite a few of them are refugees from Orthodoxy.   10,000 out of 300,000. and here in Brighton, around 400 – including children.   A tiny minority of a tiny minority…  We cannot afford to be complacent.  We know why we are here: because we have discovered and helped to create and develop a form of Judaism that is nourishing and enriching; that enables us to connect with the real jewels of our Jewish heritage, and to practice Judaism in a way that is meaningful for our lives.   Why would we not want to let people know that there is another way to live as a Jew?  Why wouldn’t we want to show homeless Jews an alternative to the oh-so-controlling ‘carrot and stick’; a way that encourages them to explore their Jewish inheritance and creates a context in which they can forge a positive Jewish identity?

Again:  we cannot afford to be complacent.    Liberal Judaism is not growing; only the ultra-Orthodox, who have more children, are increasing in their numbers.  And, perhaps, because of the ‘Fear of God’ syndrome, the numbers leaving Orthodoxy, shockingly, are far less than the numbers, who exercising their right to make their own choices, opt out of Liberal Judaism – the 1996 Jewish Policy Research Institute Survey demonstrated that challenging reality.   So what should we do?   We need to do a lot, to let Jews – and non-Jews – know we are here and what we stand for; we need to open the synagogue door wide, and invite people to cross the threshold.  The good news is that we are beginning to do this.  In the past couple of years, we have begun to direct our energies to developing activities with the specific intention, both, of attracting unaffiliated, disaffiliated and mis-affiliated Jews, and of building connections with the wider non-Jewish community. 

The current Artshul Exhibition, organised by Jess Wood Sarah, as part of the Brighton Festival Open Houses, Hove Arts trail, is a fabulous case in point.   Open every Sunday in May from 11am to 6pm – please note, if you haven’t seen it:  tomorrow is the last Sunday – the Artshul show is not only a marvellous exhibition, displaying the work of six talented artists, two of whom have been finalists in the Young Jewish artist of the Year competition, it has also been a wonderful vehicle for bringing people into the synagogue.  So far, on just three Sundays, 464 visitors have come along to see it – that is 143 visitors on May 4th, 159 on May 11th and 162 on May 18th.  And, judging by the numbers of Liberal Judaism leaflets, Open Door magazines, and other written materials taken – I had to re-order some of the LJ leaflets after week two – there’s a very good chance that some of the punters have been Jews…  Interestingly, only a small fraction of those who have come to the Open House, so far, have been BHPS congregants – around a dozen each week (and they have been mainly those who have been helping). 

The Artshul Open House has been a huge undertaking – and apart from attracting so many visitors, there have been other spin-offs:   It’s been an excellent example of community spirit and good will – with people volunteering to do security, bake cakes and serve teas.   It has reminded us to appreciate this lovely sanctuary – that doubles-up as a great space for displaying art work, and already has two beautiful examples of art in the form of the mosaics that take pride of place on either side of the ark.  Most important, the Artshul Open House is a brilliant exemplar of Liberal Judaism in the 21st century:  open, inspiring, engaging, celebratory and inclusive; inviting all who come along to discover and explore the multi-layered meanings of Jewish life and experience.   The Artshul Open House demonstrates that there is an alternative to ‘carrot and stick’ Judaism – one that has the potential to breathe new life into our inheritance and enable individuals, couples and families to foster new and life-enhancing ways of living as Jews today.   May the example of the Open House inspire us all to take up the exciting challenge of enjoying our Judaism and building a viable and meaningful Jewish future.  And let us say:  Amen.

Rabbi Elizabeth Tikvah Sarah

Brighton & Hove Progressive Synagogue Adat Shalom Verei’ut

24th May 2008 – 19th Iyyar 5768