Interior of The Great Synagogue, Copenhagen, Denmark (see article on page 8)

Volume V No 1 January 1, 2014

Of Particular Interest :

Operation Berlin Lo Spugno

The Strange Tale of Jacob Barnet

LIFECYCLE EVENTS

From the Rabbi

Editorial

Traditions of the Service —The Sermon

Hebrew Corner

Operation Berlin

Sayings of the Rabbis

Copenhagen Revisited

Lo Spugno

The Curious Tale of Jacob Barnet

Poem - C L

The Jew as Artist - Hans Feibusch

Women of Distinction - Rose Heilbron

Stumbling Stones

Jewish Entertainers - Bud Flanagan

Amusement Arcade

Anniversary Celebration

Superman

Letters to the Editor

Education Report

Musical Controversies - A

K

In Conversation - D R with J H

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Inside this issue

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4

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10

11

12

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Dear Friends,

Just as the Jewish Lunar Calendar

seemed to have gone haywire, so the

secular calendar is trying to find its

equilibrium. Ever since the clocks went

back one hour, 6 pm feels like midnight.

The lack of light and sunshine descended

upon us as a heavy curtain - far too

difficult to lift. Therefore that was when

we needed to find an opportunity to raise

our spirits. One of the ways to do this was

to look towards Chanukah, the festival of

light and realise its message of the

human spirit’s triumph in the face of

adversity.

Chanukah can raise our hopes and

aspirations, and sublimely as well as

overtly, inject fresh ideas. As the candle

lights flickered, each day one more, over

eight days, we were encouraged to exit

the winter darkness, changing mood as if

acquiring an additional soul.

The purpose of the Havdalah ceremony

is to bring to our attention the important

change of the passing of the holy period

and the arrival of the profane - or the

leaving one holy moment and the

ushering in of another. The same is true

of the celebration of Chanukah, a joyous

festival but also a reminder that Judaism

has not always been an easy religion

either from within or from without.

Chanukah is the time when we not only

recall the miracle of the oil burning for

longer than should have been possible,

but also of a time when Jews fought Jews

- those who believed in Greek culture and

those who refused to accept it. However,

the Maccabees mounted a battle against

the outside world, and their success led

to the return of the old order. Had the

Greek-Assyrians not desecrated the

Temple, perhaps the assimilation and

the embrace of a new culture would have

triumphed. At any rate we perceived,

yet again, that God works in mysterious

ways.

Recently I listened to a CD of The Life of

Albert Einstein and was struck by his

positive belief in God. He taught that

there was no absolute space or time and

that one should accept Baruch Spinoza’s

view that God reveals himself through

nature. The emphasis on there being no

absolutes can be found in one of the

prayers which we recite at a funeral or a

Memorial Service: Time and Space are

not the measure of all things, for love

does not die and truth is mightier than

the grave. For those who believe in God

it is clear that only He is eternal and the

One who created a world of order and

logic - a system in which we are partners,

enabling us to live and thrive.

I have recently been trying to put some

order into my paperwork and found my

Induction Service address, delivered in

1973 at West London Synagogue. In it, I

said that Judaism can be compared to a

picture where we Jews are the frame,

able to regulate its dimensions. If we

expand that frame our creativity grows

and increases our appetite for life.

I was a given new book - Nassim

Nicholas Taleb’s Antifragile. In the

Prologue I found the following words

“Wind extinguishes a candle and

energizes fire …... Some things benefit

from shocks; they thrive and grow when

exposed to volatility, randomness,

disorder and stressors and love

adventure, risk and uncertainty”.

How profound are these words in the

context of Chanukah, Judaism and the

world in which we live. When darkness

descends it brings gloom but it can do the

opposite, depending on our willingness

to adapt. Through positive inspiration we

can change direction. Chanukah came

about as a result of a revolution which

ended in victory. The rabbis were not

happy to glorify war and so they gave us

the miracle of the burning oil,

emphasizing the beauty of light. Indeed

the reason why the Book of Maccabees

was not included in the Hebrew Bible

was to avoid the glorification of the

battlefield. The fragility of Judaism has

been beneficial, forcing Jews to find

solutions, lifting the spirit, inducing a

desire to overcome. Whereas wind can

extinguish the candle, it can also enhance

its flame.

I believe that the message of Chanukah -

winter, darkness and the search for the

absolute - is all about repairing the

fragile nature of life, bringing with it a

different dimension and enabling us to

thrive, develop and be creative.

I hope that your Winter is good and that

you have flourish and now look forward

to Spring and Summer, as they shall

surely come.

Yours sincerely,

FROM THE RABBI

3

There is

no

absolute

space or

time

Coming events:-

In Conversation: On 15th January, The R’s - Sir M & son H - will be next in the popular Kent House series .

C S-M’s article on early British Jewish art collectors which we ran in the October issue attracted much interest. Now we

are pleased to tell you that on March 5th he will be giving a talk on the subject, illustrated with beautiful slides.

You can book your places for these and other attractions by contacting the Synagogue office:

secretary@westminstersynagogue.org

4

Editorial We, the editors of the Westminster Quarterly, are delighted with

readers’ response to the contents and appearance of the new

colour edition.

Although shortage of space precludes us from giving a full

account of the Memorial Service for our Přeštice scrolls, held last

November, we would like to mention the beautiful ceremony,

attended by the Deputy Lord Mayor of Westminster and other

distinguished guests. It included Czech music and prayers, and

participation by the children of Or Shabbat, and was followed by a

Kiddush and light lunch with some delicious Czech dishes and a

glass of slivovitz!

Interestingly and quite by coincidence, two of the contributions in

this latest issue are both related to the Second World War. This

year will be the Centenary of the start of the First World War.

We plan to commemorate this anniversary in the next Quarterly

and we invite our readers to send us any stories which they may

have, concerning family or friends who participated in that

conflict - at home or abroad.

We look forward to receiving more articles from members of

Westminster Synagogue. As a guide, a page contains

approximately 850 words – allowing for photographs – and we

like to keep to a maximum of two pages per article. Of course, we

reserve the right to make changes to the copy but by keeping to

the word count, contributors can avoid having large chunks cut

from their work.

This is YOUR magazine so please keep sending us your

entertaining pieces – travel, reminiscences, reviews of books or

plays of Jewish interest – and your comments.

TRADITIONS OF THE SERVICE V

In most religions of the world the Sermon

has a fitting place in the service. Perhaps

the most famous of sermons was Jesus’s

Sermon on the Mount. For Jesus, as a

Jew, was following the tradition of his

fathers when he assembled a congregation

before him and spoke to them in his native

tongue, then Aramaic. One of the earliest

sermons we know of was that of Moses,

handed down to us at the beginning of the

book of Deuteronomy, when, we are told,

‘These be the words which Moses spake

unto all Israel.’ After all, what is a sermon

but a speech uttered usually in a place of

prayer? It comprises teaching,

explanation, moral instruction and

exhortation. In earliest times these

sermons were not written down. They

were passed on by word of mouth, but by

medieval times the Midrash conserved the

wise words of the teacher for the benefit of

later generations. Much must have been

lost. Even with the preservation we have

in the Hebrew Bible we have probably

been deprived of some remarkable words

of wisdom from other sages and prophets

whose names are not known to us.

In the Middle Ages and later in Eastern

Europe, the preacher was a wandering

Jew, who would travel from village to

village to deliver a sermon on Shabbat or

the Festivals. He was not a Rabbi as such

and seldom took part in caring for the

congregation or giving them instruction in

Jewish law. The Maggid, as he was

known, often started by answering

questions from his audience, developing

his discourse as he went along. The idea

of the pulpit - a raised desk or lectern

near to the Ark - is as ancient as the idea

of the sermon. Thus the speaker is able to

be heard and seen by the congregation.

In Europe the sermon was usually given in

Yiddish in the case of some of the small

synagogues in Eastern Europe. It was not

until the coming of the Haskalah, the

Jewish Enlightenment, that the question

of a sermon given in the vernacular was

discussed. By 1810, however, when the

first Reform synagogue was established by

Israel Jacobson in Seesen, Lower Saxony,

many German Jews felt a need for change

in synagogue services and in the liturgy

itself. The new community lasted only

three years, until the authorities in

Westphalia closed down much of Jewish

life. It was in Hamburg in 1818 that the

young Reform movement found support

for a new synagogue which was to flourish

in spite of the disapproval of the local

rabbis. Its congregants insisted on a

sermon in German.

Not long after came the question of the

English sermon. At Bevis Marks the

Elders came together to discuss it. Moses

Montefiore described the meeting as ‘long

and stormy as many members of the

congregation were greatly attached to the

Spanish tongue.’ He made the point that

even though their treatment in Spain had

been vicious, they still viewed their native

land with affection. They were prepared

to consider a sermon in English every

Sabbath afternoon, as long as they could

vet what was to be said beforehand. But

the request, perfectly reasonable to later

congregants, was refused. One reason was

that the majority of ministers spoke very

little English, scholarly though they may

have been. But when the West London

Synagogue was founded in 1840, there

was never any question but that the

sermon should be in English. The very

first sermon in English actually took place

in Liverpool in 1827. The minister of West

London, Professor David Woolf Marks,

who came from Liverpool, was the first to

have his English sermons published.

Since then, the sermons of most Chief

Rabbis, including Nathan and Hermann

Adler, J.H. Hertz and Israel Brodie, have

been published.

One of the earliest sermons preached in

this building by our first Minister, Rabbi

Harold Reinhart, included the words

‘The true meaning of a synagogue – a holy

congregation – is a fellowship of faith, a

community, however small, however

humble, with or without material

possessions, meeting together

thoughtfully to read and interpret our

scriptures and reverently to rehearse our

liturgy – to feed our Jewish souls.’

PB

5

The Sermon

Hebrew Corner

The Hebrew Language has Four Layers of

Styles:-

l. The Biblical

2. The Rabbinical (The writers of the

Mishnah, the Talmud and the Midrash)

3. The Middle Ages

4. The Modern

Israel has based the Hebrew vocabulary on

the Bible and less on the Rabbinical

Hebrew, especially in day to day speech.

But there are instances where the

Rabbinical Hebrew has the upper hand!

Let us take for example the word Sun. The

Mishnah uses the word

chama ַחָמה But the Bible uses the word

shemesh ֶׁשֶמש

which is being applied in Israel in day to

day speech. However, when the sun sets

and Shabbat comes in, the Mishnaic

version was adopted and we say

shakiyat ha’chama ְׁשִקיָעת ַהַחָמה

and not

shakiyat ha’shemesh ַהֶׁשֶמש ְׁשִקיָעת

The same applies to the term

Kiddush Levana ִקידּוׁש ְלָבָנה

which means Sanctification of the New

Moon. In Israel one does not use levana

for moon in everyday speech but the word

yareach ַיֵָרח

However, here again we use the Mishnaic

term

Kiddush Levana ִקידּוׁש ְלָבָנה and not

Kiddush Yareach ִקידּוׁש יֵָרַח

I A

הּברּו קֹורנר

Operation Berlin sounded exciting, but

in fact it was the sad end to an heroic

attempt to bring the Second World War

to a conclusion in 1944. How did the

name come about? One of us in the 1st

Airborne Division had retained his sense

of humour sufficiently to so name the

planned withdrawal of the tired remnant

of the division across the River Neder

Rijn on 25th September 1944, by when it

was clear that our objective, the main

road bridge across the river at Arnhem,

had been lost, leaving the remainder of

the division no option but to fight on,

short of ammunition and food, hoping

for relief by 30 Corps.

What had happened was this. Field-

Marshal Sir Bernard Montgomery was

convinced that a Second Army thrust

from Belgium through Holland, and then

a sweep into Germany, would end the

war. To achieve this, 30 Corps (Guards

Armoured Division, 43rd Infantry

Division and 50th Infantry Division) had

to advance swiftly along the road from

the Meuse-Escaut Canal near Neerpelt,

reaching Arnhem by 19th September,

namely two days after the D-day on

17th September, but its progress through

Holland would be inhibited by the

numerous Dutch rivers and other

waterways. The road bridges across

these had therefore to be captured and

held - first by the American lst Airborne

Division in the Eindhoven area, some

thirteen miles north of the 30 Corps start

-line, then by the American 82nd

Airborne Division in the Nijmegen area,

some fifty-three miles north of the start-

line and also by the British 1st Airborne

Division which would capture and hold

the main road bridge at Arnhem, some

sixty-four miles north of the start-line.

The lightly armed 1st Airborne Division

comprised the 1st Parachute Brigade, the

4th Parachute Brigade and the 1st

Airlanding Brigade, which was glider-

borne; and under its command it had, in

addition, the 1st Polish Parachute

Brigade. One difficulty was that

shortage of aircraft meant that only two

of these four brigades (the 1st Parachute

Brigade and the 1st Airlanding Brigade)

could land on 17th September; and the 1st

Airlanding Brigade had to remain pretty

well where it landed so as to protect the

arrival of the 4th Parachute Brigade the

next day. Therefore the 1st Parachute

Brigade alone was charged with the task

of capturing the bridge. The Royal Air

Force had argued successfully that to

land nearer than eight miles from it

would meet unacceptably heavy enemy

anti-aircraft fire. Because the brigade

had therefore so far to go on foot from

the dropping zone to its objective, the

heavily armed Jeeps of the 1st Airborne

Reconnaissance Squadron would first

rush to the bridge and hold it until the

brigade’s arrival, a plan that failed

because the squadron encountered

determined German resistance and was

unable to get through.

In spite of it all, some 600 officers and

men, mainly from the brigade’s 2nd

Battalion of the Parachute Regiment,

succeeded in capturing the north end,

thereby denying the enemy the use of the

bridge and, despite repeated attacks

across it by German armour, this small

force held out until 20th September,

which was the day after 30 Corps was

meant to relieve it. 30 Corps had

encountered unexpectedly formidable

German resistance as it progressed

along the road, so it was unable to keep

to its timetable.

The 4th Parachute Brigade had duly

arrived on 18th September, and elements

of the 1st Polish Parachute Brigade on

19th and 21st September; but neither they

nor the 1st Airlanding Brigade nor the

rest of the 1st Parachute Brigade

succeeded in reaching the bridge, so

along with the glider pilots fighting as

infantry, they formed a protective ring

around the division’s headquarters in the

Hartenstein Hotel in the village of

Oosterbeek, just to the west of Arnhem.

Day by day the ring grew tighter as a

consequence of heavily armoured enemy

attacks, culminating in the mounting of

Operation Berlin on 25th September.

Although I had taken part in the

invasion of North Africa in 1942 with the

1st Parachute Brigade and the

subsequent fierce fighting which caused

the Germans to name us The Red Devils,

and I had dropped with the brigade in

the invasion of Sicily in 1943, my role as

adjutant of the 1st Airborne Divisional

Signals in 1944 required me to fly to

Holland by glider on 17th September

alongside the division’s chief staff

officer. So important an occupant meant

that the senior of our two glider pilots

was the second-in-command of No. 1

wing, Glider Pilot Regiment. Our flight

on this beautiful autumn day was

uneventful because strong Royal Air

Force fighter cover dealt with any enemy

gunner foolish enough to open fire.

When the division established its

headquarters in the Hartenstein Hotel I

took command of a sector of the

defences with my regimental sergeant

major and my batman, occupying a slit

trench at the base of one of the

FROM AROUND THE WORLD

6

Operation Berlin

As remembered by L G

OBE

Men of the 1st Paratroop Battalion, British 1st Airborne Division, taking cover in a shell hole outside Arnhem (Imperial War Museum)

enormous trees in the hotel’s grounds.

Our trench was one of many which

formed a means of defending the

headquarters should it be attacked.

Attacked it repeatedly was, with an

adventurous enemy machine gun

getting in close enough one day to be

able to hit the hotel; and once an

intrepid German got within yards of my

slit trench where he was quickly

despatched by fire from a soldier of the

Royal Electrical and Mechanical

Engineers who, although not trained

primarily to fight as infantry, had to be

ready to fulfil that role.

The hail of enemy mortar and heavier

shell fire was almost unremitting, but

each morning I had to brave it and

sniper fire, running up to the hotel to

see my commanding officer in the

basement so as to learn whether there

were fresh orders. On Monday 25th

September there certainly were for,

surrounded by the dead and the dying,

he outlined the plan for Operation

Berlin. It would take place that night. I

was to lead the first party from the hotel.

Night fell and we started out. Neither

the darkness nor the torrential rain

obscured the white tapes which had

been laid to guide us down to the river.

We suffered no mishaps on the way,

although I believe parties which

followed us ran into enemy fire. Down

at the river bank the scene was pretty

awful. Long lines of men hugged the

ground so as to stand the best chance of

not being hit by enemy mortar shells,

patiently waiting for a place in the

motor-driven assault boats manned by

the Royal Engineers and Canadian

Engineers of the 43rd Division who took

them slowly across the river, returning

for another load. They knew where they

had to make for, because a cone of tracer

bullets fired from the part of the south

bank which was in British hands, was

being maintained for that very purpose,

a vital aid in the swiftly flowing river

which was 200 yards wide.

I decided to swim, calling for volunteers

to come with me, warning that it would

not be easy. One of our company

sergeant majors and my batman

responded. Halfway across my batman

got into difficulties. The sergeant major

and I tried to hold him up, but he

struggled, slipped from our grasp and

disappeared. We swam on, appalled at

our failure to save our drowning

companion. After all we had gone

through, his loss when withdrawing was

sad indeed; and it marred for us the

remarkable escape to safety by 1,700 all

ranks of 1st Airborne Division and 400

glider pilots who remained, out of an

initial strength of 10,000 which was the

achievement of Operation Berlin.

7

I decided to swim, calling for volunteers to come with me...

Men from the division during the battle of Arnhem

The Sayings

of the

Rabbis

On Teaching

If you see a scholar who has committed

a sin today, do not disparage him for it

tomorrow, for he may have repented

him of it in the night.

Happy the generation where the great

listen to the small, for then it follows

obviously that in such a generation the

small will listen to the great.

As a little wood can set light to a great

tree, so young pupils sharpen the wits of

great scholars. Hence, said Rabbi

Hanina: much Torah have I learnt from

my teachers, more from my colleagues,

but from my students most of all.

Teach thy tongue to say, "I do not

know."

Who gains wisdom?

He who is willing to receive instruction

from all sources.

Who is the mighty man?

He who subdueth his temper.

Who is rich?

He who is content with his lot.

Who is deserving of honour?

He who honoureth mankind.

FROM AROUND THE WORLD

I recently spent ten days in Copenhagen

along with my wife J. I had lived there

before and during the war and have

been back several times to see the

family and to spend holidays there.

This time, we were particularly

interested in Jewish Copenhagen and

the recently established Progressive

Community. They have been going for

about five years, having their Shabbat

Eve and Morning Services in one of the

Unitarian Churches in the centre of the

town. This is not far from the harbour

where, seventy years ago, my father and

I lay in the hold of a fishing boat

waiting to be ferried to the safety of

neutral Sweden as German officers

patrolled nearby.

We were about twenty worshippers at

the Friday night Service. This was led

by a young lay leader – a Jewish

American female former opera singer.

After the Service, a number of us went

for a meal to a nearby restaurant. This

is a monthly event. Rabbi J N spoke to

their group some time ago; Rabbi C M

of the LJS visits them two or three

times a year and a woman at our table

has a daughter who is a Rabbi at a

Progressive synagogue in North West

London. So their links to England are

quite strong. The Congregation has

recently been granted the right to

conduct burials and marriages.

Saturday morning we spent at the

Orthodox Synagogue (photograph on

the front cover) where Rabbi L initiated

three B’nei Mitzvot – one boy and two

girls. During the Kiddush afterwards,

again we met several congregants who

had connections with our friends in

London. This beautiful Synagogue was

built in the 1830s. It suffered an arson

attack in the early 1930s and a bomb in

1979 (neo-Nazis) but it was not greatly

damaged.

In 1933, King Christian X and Queen

Alexandrine attended a Thanksgiving

Service on the Synagogue’s 100th

anniversary and the Royal family has

attended services there on several

occasions.

The Jewish museum is small and was

designed by Daniel Libeskind, the

architect who also designed the Jewish

Museum in Berlin. It has an unusual

sloping floor and depicts the history of

the Jews in Denmark.

We wanted to visit the Museum of

Resistance which documents the

Danish peoples’ resistance against the

German occupation. Unfortunately, all

that we could see was a blackened ruin

as it had suffered an arson attack in

April this year and had been completely

gutted. Neo-Nazis are again suspected.

Concerning the re-building of the

Museum, there is a debate as to

whether to add the other side of the

picture; the story of various Danish

Nazis who collaborated with the

Germans. In the surrounding Churchill

Park there is a bust of Sir Winston - in

recognition of the role the British Secret

Service played in helping to organise

the Resistance Movement. Denmark

has the best record among all the

European countries for saving Jewish

lives during the Holocaust. Almost all

were saved from deportation and

those few that were sent to

Theresienstadt were closely monitored

by the Danish authorities, and as a

result, were not harmed and most

returned after the war.

The year 2013 was a year of several

anniversaries, one of which, last

October was the seventieth anniversary

of the rescue of the Jews of Denmark in

1943. What made the German

occupiers wait three and a half years to

instigate measures against them,

resulting in a full scale raid on Jewish

homes and other places where Jews

might be found? I was there when it

happened and our readers, many of

whom are survivors or children of

survivors might wish to know the

answer to this question.

Since the outbreak of the war in

September 1939 I had been working as

a receptionist in a suburban hotel in

Copenhagen. In the early hours of 9th

April 1940, I was awakened by the roar

of aeroplanes and a colleague came to

tell me that Denmark had been invaded

by Germany. Having fled Nazi

Germany only a couple of years before,

my fears for my and my family’s safety

rose, but the Government, in a hastily

convened meeting with the King,

realising that any armed resistance

would be useless, accepted the

German surrender terms which were

not too onerous.

Germany had no quarrel with the

Danes, but being at war with England, it

needed control of the Danish and

Norwegian West Coast and if the

Danish Government could guarantee

movement of troops and armament,

Germany would not interfere with their

internal affairs. This meant that the

King, the Government, the Army, Police

and Judiciary retained their positions,

governed by the Danish Constitution

which guaranteed freedom of religion

Copenhagen

Revisited

8

to anybody - Jews could follow daily life

as before. Those Germans in control

were aware that any interference with

the Jews would provoke unrest among

the population.

Thus, at the beginning of the Occupation,

life in Denmark went on unchanged, but

gradually anti-German feeling developed

among the population, which soon

resulted in sabotage in factories working

for the Germans, and in the derailment

of German trains by the Resistance.

Increasingly the Danish Government had

to walk a tightrope between Danish

popular mood and assuring the Germans

that we were able to keep in check any

unfriendly actions. However, there came

a day, after a very serious act of sabotage,

that the Germans made demands on the

Government to deal with the matter.

The Government, conscious that

agreeing to these demands would

alienate them in the eyes of the people,

rejected them. The Germans’ reply

was “If you can’t control the situation,

then we will”.

On 29th August 1943, the Danish

Government resigned, the Army was

confined to Barracks and the Occupying

Forces took over the running of the

Country. Several high ranking politicians

and others, Chief Rabbi Max Friediger

among them, were arrested and taken to

Germany and a curfew was imposed.

The abrogation of Rule by the Danish

Constitution had now opened the door to

making Denmark Judenrein. Not

everybody in the German Establishment

in Copenhagen was sympathetic to this

action; the Army wanted to have

nothing to do with it so that the

Gestapo had to request additional

personnel from Berlin.

George Ferdinand Duckwitz, an attaché

in the German Embassy, opposed the

action against the Jews. As Head of the

Naval Section of the Embassy, he had

been given the date on which the ships

would arrive to deport the Jews to

Theresienstadt. He went to the Leader of

the Social Democratic Party who lost no

time in informing the Head of the Jewish

Community that an action against the

Jews was now imminent. Through

Duckwitz’s action, approximately seven

thousand Jews were saved – over 95% of

the Jewish population of Denmark - and

after the war, in 1971, Yad Vashem

named him among the Righteous Among

the Nations. Rabbi Marcus Melchior in

the Main Synagogue on Erev Rosh

Hashana 1943 warned that no-one on

that night should go home.

Thus it came about that when, in the

middle of the night of 3rd October, I had

to answer a call on the night bell of my

hotel, I was wondering who might be out

there, disregarding the six weeks’ old

curfew. I would soon know. Opening

the door, I found myself confronting a

Gestapo man, accompanied by one of

those Danish Nazis who had volunteered

as Police Assistants. They wanted to

know whether there were any Jewish

guests in the hotel and whether I knew

that for the Germans, ‘Jews’ were not

only defined by their religion but also by

that of the ethnic origin of their parents

and grandparents. I replied that I had

heard of this Aryan concept and although

I knew that a couple of Jewish families

had checked in during the day, that none

were here now and I elaborated on the

farmers and other guests whom we had

staying that night We exchanged a few

more words and they left. I went up to

my room, pondering what to do next.

During the rest of the night I heard

trucks pulling up and leaving after a few

minutes; I wondered which of them

would come for me. However, in the

morning I heard that an open space next

to the hotel had been used as an

assembly point for those Jews who had

been unlucky enough to get caught. I left

the hotel in the morning, having been

offered a place to sleep, by a lady

working in a sweetshop next to the hotel.

Then I managed to get in touch with my

family and heard that they were all well.

The headlines in the following morning’s

papers ran:-

AFTER THE JEWS HAVE BEEN

ELIMINATED FROM THE PUBLIC

LIFE OF THE COUNTRY THERE IS NO

LONGER ANY NEED TO KEEP THE

DANISH ARMY INTERNED.

The Army officially refused to accept

their freedom at the cost of the Jews, but

they were now free to go and the King as

Head of the Army resumed residence in

the Royal Palace of Copenhagen.

The Resistance movement had been busy

during the night too - and the days after.

Temporary shelters and hiding places

were found for thousands of people, as

well as transport organised to get us to

the safety of neutral Sweden. The

Swedish Government had expressed its

willingness to accept anyone who could

come, and within a few weeks, the vast

majority of us were in Sweden. Within

days, my father and I boarded a shipping

vessel and after a wait of several hours,

the skipper found an opportune moment

to run us across the water to Sweden,

where we were most heartily welcomed.

There is a Midrash which says that the

Creator sometimes creates the cure

before He creates the disease. During

one of the wars between Denmark and

Sweden, in the seventeenth century,

Denmark lost what has been Southern

Sweden ever since. If Denmark had

not lost those lands to Sweden, the

Jews of Denmark would have had no

place to flee to.

So in this instance too, Gam su l’tovah.

W E.G

9

Opening the door, I found myself confronting a Gestapo man...

10

Readers will probably recall a delightful article by the late A H. It appeared in the July 2011 issue of the Westminster Quarterly in which she told of the process of producing olive oil on their farm in Italy. Now her husband, D has sent us this sequel.

A and I bought Lo Spugno in 1982 as a

haven of tranquillity in the hills of

Tuscany, to which could come our large

families who had escaped from Egypt and

also our many friends from over the world.

What we did not bargain for is that the

sheer beauty of the place made us feel

that we must improve this beauty even

more. To us, the whole place became a

work of art.

We shaped the terraces, planted many

olive trees, some cypresses, and fruit

trees, and restored the original

farmhouses and a magnificent hut at the

top of our hill. But also we made use of a

stream at the bottom of our land to fall

into a rock pool that we had created. The

result that we sought was that wherever

you were, you would see a beautiful

panorama.

Our reward was to enjoy the place very

deeply, and to have all our many visitors

enjoy it as much.

The making of olive oil from all those trees

became a passion. During olive picking

time we had people come from the villages,

but also friends from all over the world. We

became known in Radda (our local village)

as the big motley team who exchanged

recipes with them.

Over the years we had many visits from our

friends in the Synagogue. A F loved to take

dips in our rock pool, and T S installed a

Mezuzah on the door of the pigsty that we

had converted into a beautiful cottage.

Every year we donated olive oil to the very

old Rabbi at Siena Synagogue, who lived in

a flat above it with his even older sister.

The R and the O came olive picking every

year. But Adorée and I clearly knew that

we would not always have the strength to

do all this, and we also knew that

employing staff would not be enjoyable for

us. Our children and grandchildren have

their lives to lead and could not take on the

responsibility.

So some three years ago we put Lo Spugno

up for sale. We decided with the Agents to

price it at a level that would make people

want to have a look; our feeling was that

they would fall in love with its beauty.

And then, catastrophe hit us all. A went

and died on us. It was a great shock in the

village, as well as everywhere else. And it

really made them want to help me and my

whole family.

It is then that I asked the Agents to look for

buyers who would be prepared to continue

with the olive oil. My idea was that, it being

a money-losing hobby, a buyer would only

do it for the love of the property.

And finally, against all the odds, we got two

offers, from which we accepted a very

fascinating one.

The head of the family is a Jew, born in

Argentina, whose parents went there from

Russia. His wife, also Jewish, is from

Russia, but they are very fluent in Italian,

English, and French. They live in Bologna

with their son. An uncanny similarity with

the fact that A and I were born in Egypt

and speak all these languages. So now I

will not need to remove the Mezuzah that

T put up.

The place is too big for this family alone.

So the other buyers are their friends

from Moscow (not Jewish), and they,

like we had, will have frequent visitors

from Russia, some Jewish, some not.

At the dinner they gave for us - I was with

D, T, and I - there was a lot of hugging (a

Russian habit), and after quite a lot of

drinking, a couple of them said our love of

Lo Spugno came out so strongly that it was

beginning to transfer to them!!!

D H

FROM AROUND THE WORLD

Lo Spugno

ANGLO-JEWISH HISTORY

When the Jews were expelled from

England in 1290, not to return until

1656, some few remained behind. A few

more came here to escape persecution in

other lands or to rejoin their families.

Not a great deal is known about them,

but from time to time new research

reveals information about these secret

Jews, not necessarily Marranos or New

Christians. The Nunez family for

instance, traded from their houses in

Bristol and we know that they kept a

kosher home. Roderigo Lopez, from

Portugal, was the Jewish doctor to

Queen Elizabeth I, and another family in

London celebrated Passover with a

secret Seder.

With the coming of the Puritans in

seventeenth century England, the

Protestants began to pay more attention

to the Old Testament, the Hebrew Bible.

Many Puritan families gave their

children Biblical names and could quote

at length from the Scriptures. For those

who studied theology, Hebrew became a

necessary part of their instruction, and

the two universities, Oxford and

Cambridge, found some difficulty in

finding scholars well enough versed in

that ancient language to teach it to their

students. Without any acknowledged

Jews to turn to, scholars were at a loss.

No unconverted Jew could be admitted

officially to any place of learning,

though some at Oxford were admitted to

the Bodleian Library without

acknowledging their ancestry, or might

offer private tuition.

Born in Geneva to Huguenot parents,

the classical scholar and theologian,

Isaac Casaubon was a translator and

editor of classical works, a teacher of

theology and classics and an inveterate

collector of books to add to his fine

library, corresponding with scholars

across Europe. After a spell in Paris,

where as a Protestant in a Catholic

country, he found it difficult to work, he

came to England in 1610 where he was

welcomed by the highest clerics in the

land, including the Archbishop of

Canterbury as well as the king himself,

James I. Although he was perfectly at

home in Latin and Greek as well as

French, he never learned much English.

The one language, of which he had just a

smattering, and which he needed for his

increasingly scholarly theological work,

was Hebrew. In Paris he had been

introduced to a young Jew, Jacob

Barnet, a scholar of the Talmud and a

fine Hebraist. They became close

friends, and when Casaubon went to

Oxford to study Jewish writings he took

Jacob with him. Jacob was a charming

companion. Born in Venice, from an

affluent and affectionate family, he

spoke Latin, had a wide knowledge of

the Bible and the Talmud and was ‘of a

comely presence, a smiling countenance,

and of graceful behaviour’. He was also

a good teacher and his new English

friends sponsored him to spend two

years at Oxford teaching Hebrew to

theological students. One of these (like

so many Hebrew students since) found

that ‘this language is harder than I

suspected. Some parts are

impenetrable, many points require

hard work and a fair number require

intelligence and the presence of a

teacher.’

It soon became apparent that such an

acknowledged Jew should not be openly

at a prestigious English university. Part

of his work was to dispute with English

divines in public debate. One such

discussed ‘whether Christ be already

come, and whether he was the same who

suffered once upon the Cross, which the

Jew denies.’ A protracted attempt was

now made to convert Jacob to

Christianity. He held out against it for

some time but finally admitted that ‘the

veil was now removed from his eyes’ and

agreed to convert.

Casaubon was delighted that his friend

had made such a decision, and spoke of

him warmly to the King. Public

knowledge of the conversion put a strain

on the young man, and he and his

sponsors felt that he should take his time

over such a step. He spent some time in

London where Casaubon was working

on his criticism of the great history of

the Roman Catholic world by Cardinal

Baronio. He spent much time with

Jacob urging him to consider carefully

before he made a final decision. But he

was technically in breach of the laws of

England, baptism was being insisted on

by the university, and he finally agreed

to his acceptance into the Church of

England in St. Mary’s at Oxford at the

start of the forthcoming Michaelmas

term. So unusual was this step in the

lifetime of the ministers of the

Christian church, that Casaubon was

asked if he or any of his acquaintances

had any experience of this kind which

would help.

Everything was arranged for the

ceremony, but the night before it was

due to take place, Jacob fled. He was

chased on horseback by armed men,

caught and brought back to Oxford. He

explained that he could not go through

with it and that he wished to remain a

Jew. He was anxious about his family

and felt he was betraying his ancestry.

He was placed in Bocardo Prison in

Oxford, where he endured appalling

conditions of filth, starvation and

degradation. Casaubon spoke up for

him though his own beliefs forbade him

to forgive. He suggested that the King

might feel compassion for the young

scholar and that the Archbishop could

pardon him. Eventually he was released

from prison and banished from the

realm on pain of death.

Jacob Barnet fled to France, was

befriended by a Carmelite monk who

had converted to Protestantism,

and remained at the French court as

an authority on Hebrew and Jewish

writings. PB

The Curious Tale of

Jacob Barnet

11

He was chased on horseback by armed men

POEM

Questions

God created Eternity

Long before He created Time.

Eternity without images, without substance

Without beginning, without end

An intangible abstract reality

A single unit of unchanging non-existence

A vacuum out of which springs

Energy, the Universe, Life transmitter of Death

The world of Man who reduces God to his own image.

Eternity: infinity on the periphery of imagination.

Is death in this world of Time

A return to the void of eternity?

Can man evade the inevitability of death?

Does he have a mystical escape route

Which sets him apart from the rest of Creation?

Can abstract thoughts, the memory of emotional ties

Survive his physical destruction?

For if man’s conscious awareness of life

The cognition of his existence and reality

Does not transcend the World of Time

Does not survive death

Then the severance is absolute and final

And the experience meaningless.

C L

12

In July 1937, Hitler made a speech about a

forthcoming art exhibition to be held in

the Institute of Archaeology in Munich.

He had always made it clear that he hated

modern art, calling its exponents

‘incompetents, cheats and madmen’. It

was Goebbels, together with Adolf Ziegler,

an artist/politician who was Hitler’s

favourite painter, who organised the

Exhibition of Degenerate Art. It was

designed to show the depths to which

some German painters had sunk, but it

actually attracted more than million

visitors and much admiration. At the

opening Ziegler made a vitriolic speech,

fulminating against its decadence, mental

aberration and racial impurity. Even the

presentation was chaotic - pictures

without frames, graffiti scrawled across

walls and no catalogue. Among the

artists, some of them Jewish, were

Chagall, Kandinsky, Klee and Nolde.

One room was almost entirely devoted to

the work of Jewish painters, nominated

Bolshevists and described as enemies of

decency and talent. One of these Jewish

painters was Hans Feibusch. His

paintings, along with many others, were

burned after the exhibition was over, in

the yard of the Berlin Fire Brigade.

Feibusch was born in Frankfurt am Main

and studied in Paris. His work was

becoming known, but it was soon obvious

that the work of a Jewish artist in the

Third Reich had little hope of appreciation

let alone the opportunity for him to

survive. He escaped to England before the

exhibition took place, was befriended by a

minister of the Church and converted to

Christianity. The Minister, the Bishop of

Chichester, encouraged Feibusch,

commissioning work for his cathedral and

recommending him to other Christian

sponsors. He was also introduced to

English society, painting portraits and

selling many of his paintings to wealthy

patrons. He began to experiment with

mural paintings, which were suitable for

houses of worship, and wrote a book

Mural Painting.

Feibusch’s art concentrated largely on

three themes: the Bible - Old and New

Testament - Nature and Mythology. He

sought to portray Christ, but found such a

picture almost unattainable. When

reproved for the figure, commissioned for

Goring Church, he explained, ‘There is

nothing particularly Christ-like in The

Last Supper. It has always been my aim

to follow the advice of Leonardo da Vinci,

and bring out the essential Christ-like

qualities in the figure itself.’ One

particular secular series of paintings was

executed for The History of Newport in

the Civic Centre. There are six paintings,

each eighteen feet high, resembling

tapestries, full of figures representing

Newport’s history from Roman times.

In later life, as his eyesight was failing,

Feibusch took up sculpture. A figure of

Christ is in Ely Cathedral. Much of his

work is in the diocese of Chichester, in the

Cathedral itself and in several parish

churches. Pallant House Gallery in the

city, which specialises in modern art, has

many of his paintings and an exhibition –

The Heat of Vision – was mounted in

1995, which visited several towns in

Britain. He was also a friend of Sir

William Clough-Ellis and the village of

Portmeirion has some of his murals. His

largest painting, The Judgment, is in the

church of St. Albans, The Martyr,

Holborn.

In 1992, at the age of 94, he reconverted

to Judaism and two years later his

pictures were still being exhibited.

Germany had rediscovered her native son,

and mounted an Exhibition of his work.

He was awarded the German Grand Cross

of Merit in 1967. To us, perhaps, one of

the most interesting displays of his murals

was in the West London Synagogue. It

was Rabbi Goulston, the young Reform

minister who died so young, who was

instrumental in inspiring the Synagogue

to commission the five murals which,

until 2012, adorned the Stern Hall. He

had seen the work of the artist exhibited

at the Ben Uri Art Gallery, and asked him

to lend some of his paintings for Berkeley

Street’s centenary celebrations. The idea

was followed up by Rabbi Gryn who

visited the artist in his studio in St. John’s

Wood and asked him to create some

subjects for murals. Feibusch set out on

five months’ work to produce the finished

paintings. He spent much time on the

preliminary studies, with pencil sketches

and colour impressions. Then he

executed the paintings on canvas so that

the murals could if necessary be removed

from the wall. Sadly, the paintings were

sold when the Synagogue was refurbished.

Hans Feibusch left the entire contents of

his studio together with any unsold

paintings to the Pallant House Gallery.

He is buried at Hoop Lane. Interestingly,

he married Sidonie Gestetner, and

although they had no children there are

other members of the Gestetner family at

Westminster Synagogue.

PB

ANGLO-JEWISH HISTORY

13

The Jew as Artist

Hans Feibusch

(1890-1998)

one of the most interesting displays of his murals was in the West London Synagogue

Anglo-Jewish History

When I left school I wanted to be a

lawyer, particularly a barrister. But my

headmistress told my mother that girls

did not practise law, that only one girl

had ever succeeded in that profession,

and that was Rose Heilbron. I was duly

put in my place, but ever since I have

admired the first Jewish woman Q.C.

Rose’s family came from Liverpool. Until

she qualified as a lawyer and began her

professional career, she was always

known as Rosie. Her father Max, whose

family came from Germany, was a

shipping agent, organising the passage of

Jews from Eastern Europe and Russia to

the promised land of America. He called

himself a hotelier, but in fact he provided

lodgings for the new immigrants coming

into the country. He married an

American girl, Nellie Summers, an

intelligent, efficient woman, who was

determined that her daughter should have

an education worthy of her intelligence

and personality. Rosie’s elder sister,

Anne, spent most of her time helping her

mother in the house, but Rosie was sent

first to a primary school, then to one of

the excellent Public Day School Trust

schools, Belvedere, and finally to

Liverpool University. She had piano and

elocution lessons, though she never

played as well as her sister Anne. Her

voice was clear and well-projected and

she loved acting; good qualifications for

the Bar, though a career in law was still

most unusual for a girl, and especially a

Jewish girl. Many years later, Belvedere

established a Heilbron Scholarship for

girls reading law. It was inaugurated

by Cherie Blair, Q.C.

Rose gained a First at university, was

awarded a scholarship to Gray’s Inn and

became one of only two women to win a

Master of Laws Degree. She was called to

the Bar in May 1939, not long before the

outbreak of war, and it may have been the

fact that so many young barristers were

called up, that gave her more

opportunities of practising at a time when

there was still considerable prejudice

again women in the profession. She

joined a Liverpool practice, was elected to

the Northern Circuit and began to acquire

a reputation as a fearless and persuasive

advocate, who prepared her cases well

and argued them effectively.

One of Rose’s early cases, as Junior to

Sir Patrick Hastings, K.C., was that of

Leary Constantine vs Imperial Hotels Ltd.

Constantine (later Sir Leary), a world-

renowned cricketer from Trinidad, in

London for the Test Matches, had booked

rooms at the hotel, who knew he was

black and confirmed the booking. But on

arrival he was refused permission to stay

more than one night, as other guests, US

Servicemen, objected. At the time racial

discrimination was not illegal, but

Constantine sued and the case was

brought under common law as breach of

contract. The hotel was found guilty and

a nominal £5 awarded to the cricketer;

in view of his sporting distinction, the

publicity was widespread. Rose’s name

was beginning to be mentioned in legal

circles and she was already acquiring

a reputation as a barrister to be

reckoned with.

The sad death of Rose’s mother from

cancer at the age of 49, nearly stopped her

career in its tracks, but she was already

destined for great things, and when in

1945 she married an Irish doctor,

Nathaniel Burstein, his encouragement

helped her to regain her momentum. A

daughter, Hilary, was born a few years

later. She also became a barrister

and a Q.C.

Rose Heilbron took silk (became a King’s

Counsel, as it was then – changed to

Queen’s Counsel when Queen Elizabeth

came to the throne). She was the first

woman to do so, at a very young age,

encouraged by the Attorney General, Sir

Hartley Shawcross. The award of K.C .

was in the hands of the Lord Chancellor,

who apparently consulted with George VI

about making such a momentous

decision. There was still considerable

prejudice against women, but her

preferment was not the only one, for she

was accompanied by another

distinguished barrister, Helena

Normanton. Rose’s daughter, Hilary, in a

biography of her mother, quotes the

remarks made by Mr. Justice Devlin at

Liverpool Assizes when the appointment

was announced. “The whole profession

has watched with pleasure your brilliant

career. They rejoice with you in the

unique and well-merited achievement …

you have added another distinction to the

proud record of the Liverpool Bar.”

Somehow, in spite of a heavy and

demanding workload, Rose managed to

maintain a happy home for her husband

and her daughter, and is often regarded as

an inspiring example in the struggle for

women to combine work and domestic life

successfully. One of her most famous

cases was the Cameo Murder case. Two

young men had broken into the Cameo

Cinema and shot the manager and his

assistant, and she was appointed to

defend one of them, George Kelly, in spite

of Kelly insisting he did not want ‘a Judy’

to defend him. She fought a hard case

which brought considerable publicity,

leading to the Daily Mirror naming her

‘Woman of the Year’. Kelly was found

guilty and hanged, but the Court of

Appeal later quashed the conviction.

By now, Rose Heilbron was regarded by

all, professional lawyers and laymen alike,

as one of the leading lights of the Bar,

Jewish Women of

Distinction IV

Dame Rose Heilbron, Q.C.

14

CZECH MEMORIAL SCROLLS

with a series of ‘firsts’ to her name. She

was the first woman Judge (Recorder for

Burnley in 1956, succeeding Neville Laski,

also a Jew) and the first woman to sit as a

Commissioner of Assize. When her

husband Nat retired from medical

practice, and her daughter Hilary was

practising at the London Bar, they moved

to London. Nat had been of great help to

Rose in connection with some of the

forensic problems she encountered in her

work, explaining medical terms to her and

enabling her to understand some of the

background to her cases. In fact her

reputation as an advocate in medical

negligence cases, often led to her

appearing for the Medical Defence Union.

The Daily Mail once described her as

ruling her courtroom ‘with a rod of silk,

smooth and elegant but very tough.’ In

London she won another first, the first

woman to sit as a Judge at the Old Bailey.

In London the family joined the West

London Synagogue and took a flat in

Gray’s Inn. She became Treasurer of the

Inn and was created a Dame of the

British Empire in 1974. Her portrait was

painted by June Mendoza, the picture

hanging in Gray’s Inn. Rose Heilbron

died in 2005, her husband outliving her

until he died at the age of 100. The

funeral was followed by a memorial

Service at Gray’s Inn, led by Rabbi Winer

of the West London Synagogue, together

with the Master of the Temple Church and

the Preacher of Gray’s Inn.

Rose Heilbron’s place in the history of the

Bar is a remarkable one. Today when

women solicitors, barristers and Judges

are almost commonplace, it is hard to

realise how extraordinary it was for a

Jewish woman to achieve her honours.

She did it while still managing to be

regarded as an attractive, charming

woman, a successful wife and mother and

a sympathetic friend. There are few

‘firsts’ for a woman to win today, but

when Rose was young the path to success

was not so easy.

PB

There is a project afoot, as the families of

our B’nei Mitzvah class are already aware,

to engage further with our Czech

memories. The aim is to place

Stolpersteine in the pavement outside the

former homes of Jewish citizens. These

are small brass commemorative plaques,

the size of a cobble-stone.

We have already negotiated agreement

with the authorities of Horažd’ovice, from

which our no. 4 Scroll comes, for

permission to lay the stones; we are only

waiting for the sculptor who makes them

to be available. Uniform throughout

Europe and accepted as a fitting memorial

in over a thousand locations, the

Stolpersteine are made by Gunter

Demnig, a sculptor living near Cologne.

He began making them in 2007 and has

placed them in Germany, Austria,

Hungary, Czech Republic, Norway, France

and elsewhere.

Sometimes translated as “stumbling

stones”, these stones say “Here lived …”

and give the name and dates of the

individual commemorated. Placing a neat

paving block in the ground is in no way

like placing a stumbling block before the

blind (Leviticus 19:14). On the contrary,

they allow more to be seen: they invoke

memories of the past that can inform and

enlighten the present. They also allow

individual forgotten souls to be

remembered. As the mayor of

Horažd’ovice made clear to us on our visit

in 2011, the town is proud of its former

Jewish citizens and they are greatly

missed.

The project as a whole marks Demnig’s

dedication to remembering the victims of

Nazism, but each stone is paid for by

donations from communities, schools,

groups with some connection to the place

or the people involved. In this way the

remembrance is shared in ever-widening

circles, with a relatively modest cost of

€120 per stone.

Our plan, as the Westminster Synagogue

Scrolls Committee, is to raise sufficient

funds to place stones marking the home of

every victim from Horažd’ovice. Knowing

where to place them has been made

possible by working with Shlomo Fischl,

whom some of you will remember from

our commemorative service in 2010. As

soon as a date is allocated for laying the

stones we hope to arrange a community

visit. In the meantime, we hope you will

give generously. Members who wish to

make a donation may do so via the

synagogue website at :-

http://bit.ly/1aHOcrS

V R

15

Stumbling Stones

A New Project

When Wolf and Yetta Weintrop came

to England from their native Poland,

they hardly thought that their son,

Chaim Reuven, born in London in

1896, would turn out to be one of the

best-loved Jewish comedians of all

time. They had just been married

when, still in their wedding clothes,

they fled from Radom to try to get to

America, the goal of almost all

emigrants from Eastern Europe. But

they were deceived by the Polish agent

who organised their journey, and found

that their ticket would take them no

further than London.

The Weintrops’ first home was in Brick

Lane, where Wolf started out as a

cobbler, but when the children started

coming along (there were eleven in all)

they moved to Hanbury Street, where

at No. 12, young Chaim was born. A

Blue Plaque on the wall marks the spot,

now above Rosa’s Café. The story is

told that his mother went to a friend,

who owned a Fried Fish Shop, to

borrow some money, and having got

it, set up a rival Fish and Chips

establishment next door, putting her

generous helper out of business.

Chaim grew up to be a typical East End

Jewish boy, bright and cunning, and as

the Jewish Chronicle put it, ‘as Cockney

as a barrow boy, as Jewish as a

character in a Zangwill story.’ He went

to the Jews’ Free School in Bell Lane,

and joined the Brady Street Club. He

gained his first love of the theatre at the

Cambridge Music Hall, in Commercial

Street, where at the age of ten he acted

as call boy, learning conjuring tricks

which he performed for his friends for a

penny a show. By the time he was

fourteen he decided that the stage was

going to be his career, and the place for

an embryo Jewish actor/comedian was

New York.

Down at the docks he stowed away

aboard the SS Majestic going to

America, and jumped ship before he

could be arrested. In New York he took

any job going: delivering telegrams,

selling newspapers and helping on the

land. But theatre was always his first

love, so he joined a music hall group

(vaudeville as it was in the States),

billed as a Jewish comedian Bobby

Wayne, touring with the company at

home and abroad, finally ending up in

South Africa where one of his brothers

was living.

He returned to San Francisco but

when England went to war in 1914 he

came back to join up. There was never

any doubt that he was an Englishman

and a true Londoner, as many of his

professional songs were to show.

Chaim joined the Royal Artillery,

as Robert Winthrop, a corruption of

his real name given him by the

recruiting office.

Chaim was sent with his unit to France

where he met up with a fellow soldier,

William Ernest Allen (later Chesney)

though they were not to form a stage act

until several years later. He served as a

driver, but he spent most of his time

entertaining the troops, impersonating

the famous stars of the time, and

singing some of the inimitable songs

which were to make him famous. He

was temporarily incapacitated when he

was gassed, but in hospital he recovered

his sight and his health. His Sergeant

Major was a bully of a man, but it was to

him that young Winthrop owed the

name that made him famous, for as

soon as the war was over he became

Bud Flanagan, a good Irish name for a

Jewish boy. He was supposed to have

told the Sergeant Major when he left the

army that one day everyone would

laugh when they saw his name.

Once he was discharged he formed a

double act (Flanagan & Roy) with Roy

Henderson but these early attempts at

entertainment were not very successful

and back in London he earned a living

driving a taxi. But his love for the stage

and for making people laugh reasserted

itself, and he walked all the way to

Glasgow. Here he again met up with his

friend from army days, Chesney Allen,

and they formed a double act, with

great success. It was not long before

they were engaged by Val Parnell, the

leading impresario, to appear at the

Holborn Empire. While Flanagan was

short and stout, Allen was tall and thin,

wearing a smart suit. Flanagan is always

remembered for his moth-eaten fur coat

and crushed hat. They complemented

each other in style and voice. In his

entry in the Oxford Dictionary of

National Biography they are described

as creating ‘a beguiling harmony,

entirely appropriate to their wistful

songs, out of Flanagan’s warm

huskiness and Allen’s gently staccato

recitative.’ Here the double act of

comedy and song proved very popular,

GREAT JEWISH ENTERTAINERS III

Bud Flanagan, OBE

16

On stage with the Crazy Gang

...the only Jewish blacksmith I ever met. His name was Libovitch

17

and a few years later they joined up with

two other double acts, Nervo & Knox and

Naughton & Gold, to form the Crazy

Gang.

The Crazy Gang appeared regularly on the

music hall stage and at the London

Palladium and were extremely popular

with the Royal Family, especially Queen

Elizabeth the Queen Mother, who was

reputed to favour them above all other

comedians. They entertained a new

generation of troops during the Second

World War until Chesney Allen retired in

1945, though Bud Flanagan continued

working almost until he died. He wrote an

autobiography, My Crazy Life, in which

he vividly describes the East End of his

youth: ‘Next door to us was a kosher

restaurant with wonderful smells of salt

beef and other spicy dishes. Then came

the only Jewish blacksmith I ever met.

His name was Libovitch, a fine, black-

bearded man, strong as an ox. Horses

from the local brewery lined up outside

his place, waiting to be shod.’

The songs of Flanagan & Allen, most

written by Bud himself, were typical of

the man he was. Gently humorous, they

told of the London he knew so well;

Underneath the Arches,

Maybe It’s Because I’m a Londoner,

Any Umberellas, were all favourites,

whistled and sung during the war by

troops and civilians alike. Many were the

sort which would lift the spirits during

dark days, such as Run Rabbit and

Dreaming. But perhaps the best known

lasted long after the war was over. Used

for the long-running (and often repeated)

comic show, still a favourite today, Dad’s

Army, it was written and recorded by

Flanagan - Who Do You Think You’re

Kidding, Mr. Hitler? with its familiar

lilting tune and words which recalled the

spirit of the Blitz and England’s fight back

against the enemy.

In 1959 Bud Flanagan was awarded the

OBE, presented by the Duke of Edinburgh

at Buckingham Palace. Bud had married

Anne Quinn in 1925. Also on the stage,

she came from an Irish family of show

business singers and players. Their only

son died of leukemia, and when Bud

became a wealthy man he endowed two

wards at the Royal Marsden Hospital to

fight the disease. He died in 1968 and

was cremated at Golders Green , with

many stars of stage and screen coming to

pay their respects. Pathé News recorded

the occasion. In his obituary in the

Jewish Chronicle, Ben Aziz, the J.C.’s

comment writer at the time, wrote, ‘One

had to see him on stage to sense his

secrets, which were a sublime sense of the

ridiculous and a vast affection for his

audience. He was – without ever

attempting to be – a specifically Jewish

comedian, the most Jewish of them all.

In a sense he was the ‘Yiddisher Momma’

of the Music Halls.’

Bud

Flanagan’s

fur coat on

display at an

exhibition of

Music Hall

memorabilia

LP

Record

Cover

Some Synagogue Notices

Study Group - Fasting & Prayer

(including refreshments).

Ladies, don't forget the ‘bring & buy’

sale. It's a chance to get rid of those

things not worth keeping around the

house. Bring your husbands.

Don't let worry kill you off - let the

Synagogue help.

For those of you who have children

and don't know it, we have a nursery

downstairs.

We are saving aluminium cans,

bottles and other items to be

recycled. Proceeds will be used to

cripple children.

Please place your donation in the

envelope along with the deceased

person you want remembered.

The ladies of the Synagogue have

cast off clothing of every kind. They

may be seen in the basement on

Friday afternoon.

Low Self Esteem Support Group will

meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use

the back door.

The Treasurer has unveiled the

Synagogue’s new fund-raising slogan

‘I Upped my subscription - Up

Yours’.

Join us next Shabbat for a faith lift.

COMMUNITY MATTERS

18

Anniversary

Celebrations

Westminster Synagogue took a

brief step back into the past when

we celebrated on 5th October, the

5oth anniversary of the dedication

of the first floor Sanctuary.

In his address to the Congregation,

Founder Member Lewis Golden said:

Celebrating this morning the holding of

our first service in this sanctuary fifty

years ago, we rejoice at the memory of

our 1963 achievement. But what

achievement one might ask, as one looks

around at the sanctuary’s form and its

furnishings? Because although pleasing

to the eye, with an atmosphere of calm

conducive to quiet contemplation and to

prayer, what is so special about it?

What so special? The answer lies in a

glance back to 1957 - just six years earlier

than 1963 - to 1957 when this

congregation was formed, because then

we had nothing: no scrolls, no prayer

books, no premises, no money. Nothing.

Just six years earlier. An astonishing

thought.

But then a blessing came our way in that

Rabbi Harold Reinhart, the charismatic

Harold Reinhart, graciously accepted our

invitation to join us and to serve as our

first minister; and that was a wonderful

boost to our morale. Of course we still

had no scrolls, no prayer books, no

premises, no money, but somehow none

of this mattered; for with Rabbi Reinhart

we had the support, and we had the

encouragement, and we had the inspiring

companionship of a great spiritual

leader; and that was everything.

Harold Reinhart was by then sixty-six

years old, but he was still vigorous in

mind and body. He had just resigned his

office of senior minister at the West

London Synagogue, that enormous

congregation which he had served ever

since the year 1929: resigned as a

consequence of much trouble there. The

second minister, Rabbi Curtis Cassell, all

three wardens (of whom I was one) and

many members left with him. As he

wrote in the first of his congregational

letters to us here:- ‘It was in the wake

of a violent disturbance in the

community that a group of earnest men

and women met…. Feeling that they

could no longer continue their former

synagogue affiliation they resolved to

form a new congregation.’

And so it was. The New London Jewish

Congregation, as we called ourselves at

first, was formed. But how unselfish,

how courageous of Harold Reinhart to

join us, we who had absolutely nothing to

offer: nothing, not even remuneration:

nothing, except our unbounded

admiration and our devotion to him

and, along with his dear wife Flora, the

warm friendship of each one of us. And

what confidence his inspiring presence

gave us. The struggle to survive as a new

congregation would be forbidding, but

with Harold Reinhart along with us we

were sure that nothing could stop us,

and somehow or other we would succeed

And succeed we did. Worshipping at the

Rudolf Steiner Hall near Baker Street on

the first High Holydays, then at Caxton

Hall in Westminster: a tiny room there

for the Sabbath, a larger one for the

minor festivals, and the largest of all for

New Year and the Day of Atonement.

We had managed to find a scroll, some

prayer books and a Kiddush cup, all then

contained in a portable Ark designed by

Rabbi Reinhart and taken from room to

room. And congregational affairs were

administered from the Reinharts’ flat in

Bryanston Court; from the city office of

one of our two honorary secretaries,

Constance Stuart; and from my office in

Queen Anne Street, for I was the

treasurer.

Never a week passed that we did not

inspect and consider possible buildings

in which to establish ourselves, all to no

avail until one day towards the end of

1959 we found this handsome mansion,

Kent House. By then, at C S’s suggestion,

we had launched an appeal for funds to

help pay for a building if we ever found

one; and from our tiny membership we

had raised some £26,000, not in those

days an insignificant sum but it did not

go far towards meeting the cost of Kent

House -some £83,000. Whilst

wondering whether to face the

formidable interest charge which would

stem from bank borrowing to facilitate

the purchase, we were joined by R Y, a

Bradford solicitor who had retired to live

in London. He appreciated our dilemma

and he generously came to our rescue. R

and I sat down and we mapped out a

scheme. We would borrow the balance

of the purchase price from the bank but

at the same time, at the same time, three

of us as nominees of the synagogue (H S,

J H and I), three of us would also borrow

from the bank enough to enable us to risk

buying shares in a company made

available to us by R Y, hoping that one

day not far off the company would be

floated on the London stock exchange

and that would give rise to a gain on the

shares, enough to pay off all or most of

the onerous bank borrowing. Not long

after, I think about a year, that is

precisely what happened. How very

fortunate we had been.

Meanwhile there remained the task of

putting our newly acquired building to

rights, for during the war it had been

occupied commercially and it was not in

a good state. Using this first floor was

out of the question for it needed so much

doing to it, but we were able to make

useable a ground floor room for services

(now called the Friedlander Room) and

another as an office for Harold Reinhart

(now called the Reinhart Library). The

splendid fireplace in the Friedlander

Room was slightly altered so as to serve

as the Holy Ark. Two white panels on

which were inscribed Hebrew verses

were fixed to the wall. A coat of paint

was applied. Then a small portable

organ, reading desk and chairs were

purchased. And on 17th September 1960

the inaugural service was held, with my

little son D (here with us this morning)

pulling a cord to reveal the Ner Tamid.

Towards the end of the year 1962

although it still meant some bank

borrowing, we were sufficiently strong

financially to contemplate rearranging

the first floor. The enormous ballroom

and the adjacent but quite separate large

room overlooking Knightsbridge were to

be worked on so as to give us an intimate

sanctuary for use on the Sabbath and on

minor festivals, capable of expansion in

order to hold all the congregation on the

High Holydays. I was in charge of the

conversion - probably because I was still

the treasurer and a close eye had to be

kept on cost, but I benefitted from

unstinted help from both L B (L was my

closest friend) and from the ever willing C

S. Also we had the professional services

of a resourceful architect known to me, T

P. T P had to cope with some severe

building problems. The curtained wall to

the south of where I am speaking did not

exist; and there was no opening, not even

a door, in the wall to the north allowing

access from here to the room fronting

Knightsbridge, so one had to be made.

Accordingly we instructed reputable

structural engineers to calculate and then

specify what steel was to be built into that

wall so as to achieve a large opening, steel

built into what is a huge load-bearing wall

holding up the immense weight of the 2nd

and 3rd floors ; and our anxiety was that

something might go wrong with the

installation of that steel, and then, believe

me, Kent House might simply collapse.

We had many a sleepless night over this,

but in fact all went well.

We had the ebony wood Ark and the

scrolls in the Friedlander Room moved up

to this first floor. We approached the

monumental masons Messrs J. Samuel &

Son to see if they could supply tablets

made of the same ebony wood on which to

engrave the opening words of the Ten

Commandments, but they came up with a

better suggestion: they would present the

black marble engraved tablets which are

now either side of the Ark. We designed

and installed lighting. We installed a

heating and ventilation system, with the

trunking for it hidden in the walls and in

the false ceiling which we had made in

this central area. We installed a

loudspeaker system. We had the rooms

redecorated throughout. We had carpet

laid. We hung heavy curtains, both in

front of the windows and as room

dividers. We brought up our portable

organ from the Friedlander Room

pending its replacement by a splendid

new one, and also the reading desk.

We bought chairs. And all this was

happening whilst Harold and Flora

Reinhart were on holiday in America.

We prayed that they would be pleased

with what had been done. They were,

and on the afternoon of Sunday 15th

September 1963, a service of thanksgiving

and dedication was held attended by

many guests, including civic and

communal leaders and the Speaker of the

House of Commons in his capacity of

Member of Parliament for Westminster,

with the young C twins, D and L (also with

us this morning) lighting the Ner Tamid.

Progressing from absolutely nothing,

nothing, to this splendid sanctuary in six

short years was surely a miracle, a

modern miracle, so that is why we rejoice

here today. And we remember, we

remember with lasting gratitude all that

had been contributed in those early years

by members of our little congregation: by

the distinguished judge Sir S K - our first

president; by F W, dear F, with his

mischievous sense of humour - our first

chairman; by the much loved A P - our

first vice-chairman; by P R and C S - our

first joint honorary secretaries; by B T, S

A and L B - our first wardens; and by

many other founder members and by

those who had joined later, some holding

office, some not. But towering above us

all, always towering above us all was

Rabbi Harold Reinhart. Some of us, as I

do, some of us must surely still see him in

our mind’s eye, still see him standing

here, standing at this pulpit, his pulpit in

those early years; and with heartfelt

remembrance of our great leader we recall

the moving exhortation contained in his

congregational letter which he wrote in

December 1957 :-

‘The rock upon which we are resolved to

build is: loyalty to our cause, truth to one

another, honesty with ourselves, faith in

the Eye which never sleeps. We will make

a synagogue which will stand as a

challenge to the best in each of us, and in

which membership will be a happy

burden and a precious privilege to us

all….’

A happy burden and a precious privilege

to us all! Yes, that is what membership

had been during those six early years: a

happy burden and a precious privilege

leading to this, our lovely sanctuary,

where we held our first service fifty years

ago.

The

Shabbat

service

was

organised by L M who persuaded Rabbi S

that for one day only, the format would

revert to that used in 1963. Consistent

with those early years, Wardens for the

day, D C and J G wore morning suits and

top hats!

Juxtaposing the old and the new, Psalm

30 (Song of David at the Dedication of

the House) was sung by V T to a tune

recently composed by R F. At the end of

the Service, N Y, Head of Education,

ushered in the little ones from the classes,

to be blessed in front of the Ark by Rabbi

S who expressed the hope that these

children would be celebrating another

such occasion fifty years from now.

At the Kiddush afterwards, a few founder

members recalled some amusing

anecdotes of the very early times. It was

a most happy and also a very moving and

memorable occasion.

19

COMMENT

16th January 2014 marks

an anniversary, one that

is unlikely to be

celebrated by the

majority of people, for

seventy-five years ago the fictional

character Superman appeared in a daily

comic strip in 1939 and continued to do

so until May 1966. At its peak, the strip

was in over 300 daily newspapers and 90

Sunday papers, with a readership of over

20 million.

The first actor to play Superman was Kirk

Alyn, who in 1948 starred as the man of

steel in a 15-chapter serial ‘Superman’.

This production was the most successful

movie serial of its time. Perhaps, though,

the man who established Superman as an

iconic figure for the twentieth century was

Christopher Reeve. He played the title

role in four Superman films. In 1995 he

became quadriplegic after being thrown

from a horse. Following this dreadful

accident Reeve became a tireless

campaigner for embryonic stem-cell

research. He lobbied Congress, gained

enormous support from the acting

fraternity and generated world-wide

support for his avowed aim to use science

to help people with spinal-cord injuries;

his foundation continues the work he

inspired. Christopher Reeve died in 2004;

he showed great courage, worthy of the

role he played on screen for many years.

Apart from noting the enduring appeal of

heroes, what has Superman to do with

Judaism?

In Bereshit we are told that God created

man in his own image. The exact meaning

of this phrase has generated debate

among biblical scholars for many decades.

Does it mean we resemble the Creator

physically, or do we share with the

Almighty knowledge of good and evil, or

is it that we possess something of God,

the divine spark, that on our demise

returns to source? What is evident from

human creativity is that we project our

self-awareness on the materials we use to

fashion the world in which we inhabit,

and art is but one manifestation of that

tendency. Literature, with its rich cast of

characters, often tells us a great deal

about the attitudes and experiences of the

author, and this is the case with the

creators of a famous comic-strip hero. Is

it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s Superman!

The answer wouldn’t have quite the same

appeal if the punch line was Adam

Haelyon or Moshe Krytonitsky. What I

am about to relate was inspired by

Howard Jacobson’s article ‘Up, up and oy

vey’ (The Times, March 2005). Jacobson

postulated that the man of steel was

Jewish, and as we shall see, this is not

such a crazy idea.

Superman, Clark Kent when in civvies,

was born Kal-El, son of Jor El. Now we

know from Torah that the Hebrew El is

used to refer to God and originally meant

might, strength, power. So in Hebrew we

could refer to Superman as Adam

Haelyon: supernatural man. There is

another intriguing connection, this time

from Kabbalah. Ein Sof, the term for the

infinite, has a rhythmic resemblance to

Kal-El.

The discovery of Superman as a baby also

has a Jewish resonance. The Kents find a

tiny spacecraft, no bigger than a crib.

Ring any bells? He was raised in

Smallville, a town of no significance;

perhaps one could liken it to a shtetl.

Destined to do great things for the

American people, as Moses did for the

Israelites, Superman pays a price for

being special. Just as Moses was denied

entry into the Promised Land, so

Superman will never fully enjoy human

relationships.

So this latter day worker of miracles is

homeless, orphaned, isolated and

vulnerable. Kryptonite, the poisonous

mineral remains of the planet Krypton,

has the power to deprive him of his

strength, and prevent him from fighting

against evil. We are reminded of Samson,

one of the Judges of Israel, who was

rendered weak and helpless by Delilah’s

deception. Disabling Superman strikes at

the raison d’être for his existence: to

perform mitzvot – you can’t be more

Jewish than that!

The creators of Superman, Siegel and

Shuster, were working-class Jewish boys

who met in Cleveland, Ohio. They, like

many other immigrants or children of

immigrants, encountered those who made

them feel different - as outsiders. In

creating a hero who would fight for justice

for all and defend the weak from the

strong, the two lads from Ohio were

following a tradition of folklore stretching

back into antiquity. In our own tradition,

the Golem was a superman, a protector. It

is true that the creature sometimes got

out of control, wreaking havoc rather that

offering security!

Interestingly, in 1939, a year after the very

first Superman comic-strip appeared,

another champion of law and order hit

the press: Batman. How very different the

heroes are. Batman, Bruce Wayne, is an

all-American boy. He is a millionaire and

socialite to boot. The need for another

national defender of the American way of

life is significant in its timing: the eve of

the Second World War.

We continue to invent fictional heroes to

resist the force of evil, a motif we find in

fairy tales, myths, the Bible, and works of

later creation such as Lord of the Rings.

We never seem to tire of the cosmic

struggle between good and evil. There

appears to be a real need to create

champions of the oppressed or to idealise

people who exhibit outstanding abilities

whether they be footballers, rock stars,

scientists or charismatic religious leaders.

But just as we create icons we also have

the capacity to destroy them and that is

no bad thing – a natural defence against

idolatry, or as Tennyson put it in Morte

d’Arthur: ‘And God fulfils Himself in

many ways, Lest one good custom should

corrupt the world’.

P B

Superman

A Jewish Hero?

20

The Anniversary Celebrations last October provoked many letters of

appreciation - too many to reproduce here. Below are a few extracts.

From D C

I write, in the warm after-glow of the morning service commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of the inauguration of the first

floor sanctuary, to rectify an omission.

When we adjourned to the Friedlander Room for Kiddush and a lunch, we recalled memories of those far off days and shared

stories of Harold and Flora Reinhart and the huge affection and highest regard in which they were held.

But we forgot the rest of the plan. We omitted to address the remainder of the story that brought us to where we are today and

where we are hoping to head. We should have also been giving grateful thanks and prominence to Rabbi Reinhart's successors.

At the outset of our journey, we were blessed to be delivered of the charismatic leader we needed. Miraculously, at the two

subsequent junctures in our history when we required a new leader with fresh ideas and impetus, the Almighty again provided:

on both occasions the new Rabbi met and far exceeded our needs and expectations. Both Rabbi Friedlander and Rabbi S took

the congregation in the direction that was required at the time and reinvigorated it.

We have been truly blessed to have been led by three such diverse and exemplary leaders and teachers. Our congregation is

destined for a very happy and successful next fifty years if the Rabbonim entrusted with the leadership during those years are

able to mirror the standards set by their predecessors. The bar has been set very high.

From P G

A sick cat nearly stopped my coming to the service on 5th October to celebrate 50 years in the sanctuary, I fortunately found

myself at Kent House on time. I offer my congratulations to the Senior Warden for arranging such a moving service.

I had not realised quite how much the service has altered over the years, for this was a hark back to (very nearly) the service of

50 years ago, a quiet and intent service with some very beautiful music to help. Thanks to R F, therefore, and to V T for music

that moved a number of us literally to tears. If I have one afterword, it is that we hopefully might see some repeat occasions.

From V R

Congratulations to L on a brilliant service. It moved many to tears.

It had a dignity and grace that was emphasised by some of the music choices – quiet and contemplative, lingering where it is good

to linger. It showed up some things we had in the past and might reinstate. It also showed up some of the good musical innovations

we did not have then but enjoy regularly now.

I loved the return to formal dress for the wardens – it seems to foster a seriousness of purpose in the sanctuary, and the personal

memories spoken at the Kiddush were greatly appreciated

From J G

I congratulate L on organising such a memorable and lovely service. It was a real occasion to be cherished.

21

The Editors welcome letters of interest. Please send all contributions to editor@westminstersynagogue.org

COMMUNITY MATTERS

It is written in the statement of

principles and policy of Westminster

Synagogue, adopted in 1961 under the

leadership of Dr Harold Reinhart, that:

“We want a congregation that will be a

source of encouragement to human

progress and of comfort and

inspiration……. Through the Synagogue

we should participate in the life of Jewry

as a whole, and in human endeavour in

the wider community.”

These are words that have been among

the guiding lights for the community in

the years of its existence as it has built

up through Rabbi Friedlander towards

its current strength under Rabbi T. For

me, as the incoming Head of Education

since September 1st 2013, they are

particularly informative as I consider

my role. The words speak of looking in

at what is being provided for our

community, looking outwards and

thinking of how we can contribute to a

better world through our Judaism,

and also looking towards building for

the future.

I am delighted to say that I have been

welcomed into my new position from all

sides of the community membership.

Or Shabbat is a vibrant place on a

Saturday morning where the children,

from Kita Aleph aged 3-4 all the way up

to our B’nei Mitzvah programme gather

and are taught by an experienced team

of very committed teachers and their

teenage help teachers. It has been a

pleasure to meet the children who are

enthusiastic and so keen to develop and

to share their knowledge of Judaism,

festivals, traditions and also of Hebrew.

When volunteers are asked for to say

brachot (blessings) at our family

Kiddush as we round off the morning

sessions there is never a shortage of

children of all ages to step forward, and

also to join in to support the younger

ones.

The parents have also been forthcoming

and welcoming as I have got to know the

families from my experience leading

High Holy Day family services, through

catching up downstairs at Or Shabbat,

from the Education Committee and also

via my everyday interactions with

parents regarding B’nei Mitzvot or other

aspects of involvement in synagogue life.

It continues to be a pleasure to meet and

chat to parents who come from so many

different backgrounds; professionally,

culturally and nationally as well as some

families who are completely new to the

community and others who are second

or third generation members.

A further pleasure of my new role has

been to work on various programmes for

adults. It has been a joy to see the

diligence of the interfaith Intermediate

Hebrew group led by I A on a

Wednesday, as well as our growing

group of beginners who attend with I on

a Saturday morning. Last Saturday

students from our Or Chadash

conversion class who had attended the

Shabbat service also stayed behind to

mentor some of the more recent

starters, to guide them through what

had been missed; which also speaks to

the motivation that has been developed

in these groups through the teaching of

educators like Rabbi T and I.

I have been particularly fortunate to

begin my work at Or Shabbat during a

period in which the younger generation

have been particularly prominent in the

thoughts and events of Westminster

Synagogue. On October 5th

representatives of our B’nei Mitzvah

classes closed the ark during the service

to commemorate the 50th anniversary

of the Sanctuary moving to its current

location. As the congregation sang Adon

Olam, a group of the youngest members

of the community from Kitot Aleph and

Bet were welcomed to the sanctuary and

were blessed by Rabbi T- a fitting way to

round off a service which had paid

tribute to the past whilst also looking

forwards to the next 50 years.

Our Mitzvah Day project on November

16th was a visit to Hammerson House

Residential Care Home by the children

of Or Shabbat along with parents and

interested members. We prepared for

the event, practising the songs that we

sang and also made Shabbat Shalom

cards to present as gifts to the residents.

The children, through work on previous

years’ Mitzvah Day projects, knew all

about the value of participation in the

wider community and understanding

our obligation as Jews to carry out good

deeds. Or Shabbat also participated in

the Memorial Service for the Czech

Scrolls on November 23rd with well-

rehearsed songs and readings.

It states in our handbook for Or Shabbat

that “Study leads to Action” (from

Talmud Kiddusin). I am delighted to

have become involved in a synagogue

community that not only has an

aspirational set of principles and

policies, but which truly does cultivate

lifelong learning and lifelong action both

within Judaism and as part of the wider

community. I look forward to working

with Rabbi T and the team as we rise to

a great set of challenges in serving our

community today, and building for the

future.

22

Education Report

by

N Y

Head of Education

Some of the Shabbat Shalom cards prepared by the children

COMMUNITY MATTERS

23

On 30th October,

members were treated to a delightful

evening of music, history, comment and

discussion by Professor A K, our much

loved Musical Adviser. He started by

explaining that the evening would be in

two parts: firstly his talk about some of

the controversies in Jewish music - with

particular reference to Westminster

Synagogue - followed by audience

participation, during which he invited

discussion, comment and even

disagreement.

Introduced by S L, and speaking with the

benefit of his formidable knowledge and

experience backed with humour and wit,

he reflected on some of the differences of

opinion that exist in planning and

executing the music which we hear in our

synagogues today, as well those of earlier

times. Illustrating some of his points on

the keyboard, he spoke of music as a

means of communication between the

chazzan and the congregation. For music

invokes abstraction, emotion and feeling

and those listening may experience all

these. A point, taken up later by the

audience, was the link between the solo

singer and the congregation, when the

chazzan may become a song leader.

He spoke too of choosing melodies; some

may be felt to be ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, for

there are so many different versions

(illustrated by A on the keyboard) of, say,

Adon Olam, that everyone has their own

favourite, and this popular part of the

service, with its distinctive rhythm, could

be sung to pop music, modern jazz or

almost any other rhythmic tune.

A spoke, too, of Jewish performers of non

-Jewish music and non-Jewish

performers of Jewish music. Music, he

felt, was divided into the traditional and

the individual. The coming of the

progressive movement in Judaism, and

the introduction of the organ or other

instruments into the Sabbath service, as

well as the part played by women in

synagogue, have considerably changed

the face of Jewish music.

A then opened up the discussion for

audience participation. He was hardly

expecting the enthusiastic reception this

brought about, for V T and M G (our two

solo singers) were both present, and

anxious to join in the debate. This

ranged widely over chazzanut and

congregational participation to a free-for-

all ‘right’ or ‘wrong ’debate on favourite

tunes. Finally, after A had told of his

experience of a choir holding a single

chord while the solo was being sung,

those present decided to ‘have-a-go’.

With M as soloist and a full choir of

basses, tenors, altos and sopranos we let

rip enthusiastically on an impromptu Sim

Shalom, not perhaps of Covent Garden

standard, but good fun all the same. A

was not expecting that, either.

The general feeling was that there is

always room for change in music, that the

old traditional tunes must have a place in

the service, but new ideas are always

welcome. We came away with a greater

awareness of the possibilities that exist in

Jewish music, and a determination to

join in.

In Conversation

I came to Kent House to hear more about

Mordechai Richler, the renowned

Canadian writer. I had only previously

read his novel Joshua Then and Now,

probably the most hilarious book I had

ever come across.

Speaking about his father, D,

Mordechai’s son, gave an excellent pacey,

and informative talk, helped by

knowledgeable questions from J H. D is a

TV director, writer and presenter of

programmes on the Arts and Josh a stand

-up comic and writer and both are

members of our synagogue.

The material for Mordechai’s novels

came mostly from his childhood and

early years in an enclosed Jewish

environment in Montreal where he was

born in 1931. His father was a scrap yard

merchant and his mother the educated

daughter of a strictly Orthodox Rabbi.

The marriage had been arranged and

deeply resented by his mother, which

later led to a bitter relationship with her

son.

Mordechai left Montreal for Europe when

he was nineteen, lived in Paris and then

settled in London where he wrote seven

of his ten books. Both in Paris as a

young man and in London he made

strenuous efforts to cultivate the leading

writers and artists and grew to be one of

the intelligentsia of his time. He returned

to Montreal in 1972 primarily to refresh

his memories and to gain further

material for his books.

Richler became one of Canada’s most

esteemed writers. His books are biting

satires about Jewish life in Montreal and

characters whose personalities were

formed there. Interestingly he never

earned any money other than by his

writing. His main sources of income

came not from his books but rather from

film scripts articles and reviews, although

his novels became increasingly widely

read; the best known are The

Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz,

Solomon Gursky Was Here, and

Barney’s Version.

Richler brought a courageously honest

observation to his work; he never

compromised the truth while enlivening

his writing with a biting wit. D told us

several amusing incidents about when his

father brought to social occasions these

same qualities.

I found the evening very enjoyable and

stimulating, and look forward to reading

more of the books.

V S

Controversy

in Music