Rosh Hashanah II: Reframing Our Perspectives

 I was born and raised in the heilige/holy Jewish bastion that is known throughout the world as Golders Green.  Some people, who I assume are envious of those of us blessed to originate from this vibrant north-west London suburb, refer unkindly to my stomping ground as ‘Goldbergs Green’.  I suspect there is a not a small amount of antisemitic sentiment in this moniker.  Nevertheless, it was the place in which I spent the latter part of the sixties, entire seventies and the eighties.  To me it was home and I suspect always will be (even though I no longer live there).

I also appreciate the sentiment of those of us who sang the refrain from the Beatles’ long lost classic anthem, which went along the lines of, “We all live in a house in Golders Green.”  Many of you will be unaware that George Harrison (of Blessed Memory) did in fact write and record a song (in the style of Carl Perkins) called ‘Going Down to Golders Green’ with the following refrain:

Goin' down to Golders Green

Goin' down to Golders Green

Goin' down to Golders Green in my limousine.

I don’t know why it didn’t make it onto the charts!  However, you can hear the song at https://youtu.be/l3UMLb4inzg?si=Nb5m3DUEU6sK6Tsu.  

It’s one of those undiscovered classics.

As usual, Stephnie calls this my ‘Ronnie Corbett’ moment.

Back to Golders Green.

Growing up, my father’s synagogue of choice was a small Chassidic shtiebel situated in the heart of the community; we lived at the posher and in those days, less frum/orthodox Temple Fortune end.  The building was a converted detached house where the men sat cramped together in pews on the ground floor whilst the ladies were situated upstairs in a room directly above us.  In the centre of that room was a square area of the floor that had been removed and was surrounded by a black ornate grille.  The poor ladies had to contend with sitting as close as possible to the centre to hear what was going on beneath them.  It was quite a primitive setup to say the least!

The services were led by members of the Kehilla/Community and it was all very informal.

This was the shul we prayed in every Shabbat, week in and week out.  As a young child I didn’t know any better and many of my school friends also attended services there.

Every year when Rosh Hashanah rolled around, I dreaded going to the shul.  We would sit there for hours.  Just before the blowing of the Shofar (or it might have been Musaf), the young Rebbe and his elderly father who was also a Rebbe would disappear for an hour or so to immerse in the local mikvah whilst we waited for them to return.  The offshoot of this meant that the services never finished before about four o’clock in the afternoon.

Before I had discovered the age-old custom of comparing shul-finishing times on Rosh Hashanah – what is it about we Jews that we feel the need to boast about how late our services end on Rosh Hashanah or the length of our Pesach Sedarim? – in my pre-Bar Mitzvah mind, Rosh Hashanah services had to end really and I mean really late.  After all, wasn’t this the practice in every shul in the vicinity?

Apparently not.

Starting secondary school, I made new friends and at the start of the school year, asked one about the timings at his shul which happened to be nearer to where we lived.  He replied that they wrapped up services at half past one.

“Half past one?” I replied incredulously.

“What time do you begin in the morning?”

“Eight o’clock,” he responded nonchalantly.

“That’s the same time we do too!” I replied.

As it turned out, their Rabbi didn’t feel the need to go for a dip at around midday (accompanied by dad) and they just got on with the service.  Shockingly, as far as I was concerned, I came to realise that had they followed my shul’s customs, their members would have probably walked out a long time before the end of proceedings!

It won’t come as a surprise that I begged my father to move shuls, which he reluctantly agreed to.  As it happened, this coincided with the passing of my grandfather and, as a non-driver, my father preferred the proximity of this shul as he walked there on a daily basis to recite Kaddish.

The point of all of this is to explain how my perspective of Orthodox Jewish life was framed by the limited exposure I had encountered through attending a single shul with its unique ‘order of play’ as it were on Rosh Hashanah.  There was nothing wrong with this and I appreciate that the people who went there did so in the full knowledge that this was how Rosh Hashanah prayers were meant to be conducted.

Changing shuls enabled me to adjust my perspective, reframe my thoughts and see things in a different light.  Eventually, I moved on from this second shul which was also shtiebel-like in the sense that the men sat facing each other on long tables in a similarly informal setting.  To this day, I am automatically drawn to this sort of layout when it comes to attending shul.  Given the choice of sitting in the main building in my own seat or joining the alternative service in the Beit Hamidrash (a small room used for study), I will also opt for the latter as this is the environment in which I grew up in.

I believe that this idea of reframing our perspectives can be taken further and applied to our religion as a whole.

On Rosh Hashanah, Gd judges the entire world but it’s just the Jews who have the privilege of representing humanity to the King of Kings.  We are made in all different shapes and forms.  Some of us or short, others tall.  There are men, women, young and old, white, brown and black skinned.  Shuls for every denomination in every denomination.  The various services finish at different times throughout the day but it’s okay because that’s what the people have signed up for.  Some folks don’t observe the festival and go to work whilst others stay at home.  Does this make them better or worse Jews than those whose belief system means that for shul to matter, it has to last until 4.00 pm?

In light of everything that has transpired in the last decade from Corbyn onwards, I have tried to reframe my perspective and become less judgemental regarding others in our small tribe.  This doesn’t mean that I am willing to compromise on Halachic precepts (such as one’s Jewish status following the maternal line) but it has resulted in my trying to view concepts that I might have thought unthinkable in a softer light than in the past.

At this juncture, over the festival that quite literally ‘heads’ up the Jewish year, my prayer is one that refers to all Jews.  May Gd protect us from our enemies both in this country and abroad and especially in our beloved State of Israel.  May He give us the ability to work together in unison so that those who wish to harm us have their plans frustrated and ultimately abandoned.

In Israel, our brethren have suffered because they let their perspectives be blurred by understandable fear and desperation.  Right now, we, the Jewish People need clarity more than any other time since the end of the Shoah.  We need to reframe our perspectives and work together to bring about the return of the hostages, the defeat of our enemies and the ultimate realisation of a world that reframes its perspective as to who the real enemy is.  In doing so, recognising the legitimacy of the world’s only Jewish State as saviour of the western world.

May it happen in the very near future.

Shanah Tova Umetukah.