Shortly
after taking up my new post in Glasgow some 8 years ago, I took part
in the annual retreat of Reform Rabbis along with my new
colleagues. I don't recall exactly why but one of the opening
sessions involved a blank map of the UK and each of us was invited to
place a sticker on it to indicate the place where we felt we truly
belonged - excluding our present home or place of work. My
sticker was placed on the part of the map I believed co-incided with
a place in South-West Hertfordshire.
I have to confess, however, that it wasn't actually the Hertsmere Progressive Synagogue which, for me, was just a quaint little building which was being developed from a school to a synagogue here at around the time I was supposedly being developed in the school just over the road. The sad truth - and it's sad for all sorts of reasons - the place where, some 8 years ago, the only place I really felt I belonged was at Vicarage Road, the home of Watford Football Club.
A few months ago, at the end of my spell in Glasgow as the only Reform Rabbi in Scotland, I was invited to make a final radio broadcast, reflecting upon my time there and the past experiences which had led to my decision to become a Rabbi. It was a wonderfully self-indulgent piece - which I'm sure won't surprise those of you who know me. But it also gave me the opportunity to revisit the teachings of the prophets whose words and visions inspired me in the early 1980's as they had our ancestors three thousand years earlier and to remind myself why it was that I had been attracted to Liberal Judaism almost a quarter of a century ago.
One of the questions I was often asked in Glasgow (apart from Rabbi of Glasgow? What sort of job is that for an English Jewish boy?) was what is the difference between Liberal and Reform Judaism. It's a question which is equally valid down here; indeed I've been asked by the Jewish Chronicle to try and explain it and an article which is due to appear next Friday includes the following explanation: 'Reform implies changing or amending something while remaining within or attached to it whereas Liberal is, one senses, more of an attitude or a philosophy which carries in its very title something radical and bold, openly challenging the established order.' It's a distinction which gained the approval of Rabbis John Rayner and Tony Bayfield, so I feel I can state it with some confidence. And it feels good to be back in a movement which is quite clear about its relationship with mainstream Anglo-Jewry, with Jewish tradition and which has a clear vision about the role of Judaism in our modern world.
For me, my appointment here at Hertsmere does indeed represent a homecoming. Philosophically and theologically, I have come home. Geographically, I have come home. But there is another element. The conclusion to my radio broadcast, reflecting upon what I had learned during my time in Glasgow, included the following: 'The real value of what I have discovered for myself working as a leader of a Jewish congregation does not just lie in prophetic visions. The importance of ethical behaviour over ritual and practice is a three thousand year-old argument which was started by Amos and Isaiah - and nobody really listened to them , which is why we're still repeating their words today. But in the end, religion isn't just about ideas. It's all about community: being part of a group with similar traditions and customs and a shared sense of purpose and ideals.'
So my task here at Hertsmere is to build up that sense of community. It exists in the Religion School, which has for years been lovingly nurtured by its headteacher, allowing me to step effortlessly into one of the most important areas of my work. It exists in the selfless devotion by some to this community which is reflected in the hours and hours of voluntary effort a quarter of a century ago to transform this building from a derelict school to a working synagogue. And it exists in the commitment demonstrated by members of the synagogue Council and its committees, who ensure that this synagogue runs more smoothly than many I have known. So if all this already what's left for me to do?
My task is effectively to translate that commitment into practice. None of what I've outlined is of any use unless it is translated into action. And by action, I mean involvement in Synagogue events. With the exception of Sunday's religion school, this building is effectively devoid of members between Saturday afternoon and the following Friday evening - and to be honest, precious few turn up on those occasions either. We have effectively shipped our youth and adult education programmes to a neighbouring synagogue. There hasn't been a social or fundraising event here since I arrived, and as far as I can see, there's nothing on the horizon. Ladies and gentlemen, if we are going to build a community, then we need this place to be buzzing with activities - religious, educational and social. Then we can truly turn this place into what a synagogue is meant to be: a place for members of the community to feel they belong, really to belong.
And that, in turn, will allow me to put my little sticker in a slightly different place in South West Hertfordshire should I ever be asked to indicate the place where I feel I belong, to switch my own sense of belonging to this place from the one I identified eight years ago. Of course, there is still a question as to why I, why we should choose this particular synagogue in South West Hertfordshire. There are, as I'm sure you don't need me to tell you, quite a few synagogues in this area. What's so special about this one that gives it an important role to play here and in Anglo-Jewry as a whole? Of course all those communal activities I mentioned are a part of the equation. But only a part.
The answer to that one came from the other place in Hertfordshire to which I have now been able to return - Vicarage Road. What's on offer there is as dire as it was ten years ago, so offers plenty of opportunity for reflection. I was sitting there recently, contemplating what it was that Watford needed to improve their game. And I worked out that they needed someone on the left-wing, someone with a bit of spirit and vision, someone who wasn't afraid to express himself in a way which could galvanise and inspire the whole team. And that, perhaps, is something from which Anglo-Jewry could also benefit. It's a role for me, it's a role for this synagogue, this place, this Liberal Judaism to which I belong. I'm home. This is our home. Let's be proud of our home and show the rest of the community what we are capable of achieving. Amen.