West London Synagogue Research Articles

Rabbi Andre Ungar z’l

Rabbi Ungar was born in Budapest to Bela and Frederika Ungar. The family lived in hiding with false identity papers from 1944 under the German occupation. After the war, a scholarship brought him to the UK where he studied at Jews’ College, then part of University College, and subsequently studied philosophy. Feeling uncomfortable within Orthodoxy, he met with Rabbi Harold Reinhart and Rabbi Leo Baeck and eventually became an assistant rabbi at West London Synagogue. In 1954 he obtained his doctorate in philosophy and was ordained as a rabbi through a programme that preceded the formal creation of Leo Baeck College in 1956. In 1955 he was appointed as rabbi at the progressive congregation in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. Very soon his fiery anti-Apartheid sermons were condemned in the Afrikaans newspapers and received mixed reactions from the Jewish community. In December 1956 he was served with a deportation order and was forced to leave the country.

The Kindertransport: Contesting Memory by Jennifer Craig-Norton

Reviewed by: The Kindertransport: Contesting Memory by Jennifer Craig-Norton Andrea Hammel The Kindertransport: Contesting Memory. By Jennifer Craig-Norton. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2019. xiii + 350 pp. Cloth $86.80, paper $33.15, e-book $31.82. Jennifer Craig-Norton's monograph The Kindertransport: Contesting Memory adds to the emerging fuller picture of this phenomenon describing child refugees from National Socialism in the 1930s. The flight and resettlement of around 10,000 children and young people from Germany, Austria, Czechoslovakia, and Poland is much discussed in twenty-first century Britain and increasingly in other countries as well. The eightieth commemoration (2018–19) intensified the public as well as the academic interest in the Kindertransport. A lot of the academic focus is now on debunking some of the myths that have built up around the memory of the Kindertransport and Craig-Norton's book is no exception. Craig-Norton's starting point is the so-called "Polenaktion," the expulsion of 17,000 Polish Jews from the German Reich and their deportation to the Polish border. She rightly points out that this action—different from the later pogrom within Germany on November 9 and 19, 1938—did not spark an international response or any rescue efforts. The Kindertransport was, in part, a reaction to the pogrom. The connection between the two events is the fact that many Polish Jewish parents tried to place their children on a list for the Kindertransport, and Craig-Norton uses the files of the Polish Jewish Refugee Fund (PJRG) together with a selection of other material to write the history of the mission. Chapter 1 focuses on the organization of the Kindertransport, and Craig-Norton manages to show evidence that the organizing bodies tried keep in close contact with many of the child refugees, a view that goes contrary to the assumptions deduced from many ego documents such as memoirs, where former Kindertransportees state that they do not remember contact with anyone overseeing their progress. In some cases that is clearly wrong, as the files of the [End Page 463] Polish Jewish Refugee Fund are clearly more accessible and in better shape than the files of the large umbrella association, the Refugee Children's Movement (RCM), which was involved with the majority of the Kindertransportees. Chapter 2 focuses on the carers. Here Craig-Norton critically examines the view that the foster parents and other carers were always motivated by altruism and kind-heartedness. She points out that this narrative of gratitude and survival has been told by many researchers and by many of the child refugees themselves, and it is used to furnish a British triumphalist narrative. The reality, of course, was more complex: Craig-Norton again uses the records of the Polenaktion Kindertransportee files and the files of the Birmingham Refugee Committee and West London Synagogue to show that in some cases, the foster parents were clearly motivated by the expected maintenance payments or ability to contribute to housework and child care. On the other side of the spectrum, there were those carers who did not sufficiently acknowledge that a fostering arrangement is not the same as adopting a child. Chapter 3 discusses the dependency and the agency of the child refugees and how these changed over the years. Unsurprisingly, many of the older ones had career aspirations, which were often not met with positive encouragement by individuals and agencies, who saw them as refugees and thus as individuals of low status who should take up manual work. The last chapter's focus is on the parents, a group that has been relatively underexamined in Kindertransport research. Craig-Norton points to the lack of documentation for this gap in Kindertransport historiography. She bases her analysis on the correspondence of a small number of Kindertransportees with their parents, showing the parents' efforts and determination to get their children to safety and their hopes and dreams for their children's futures—which, in the majority of cases, they were not around to see grow. This volume is another key work in the developing journey of Kindertransport historiography. It uses little-known archives to show a fuller picture. The monograph manages its aim of "contesting" the over-celebratory...

Exilic Landscapes: Synagogues and Jewish Architectural Identity in 1870s Britain

When Jews in Florence, Italy submitted plans for a new Great Synagogue in 1872, the designs were rejected not on the usual religious or political grounds, but for stylistic reasons. The local municipality had decided that the Jewish community was not building in a ‘Jewish enough’ style, although it was not at all clear what this style ought to be. This debate over how Jews ought to build raged across Europe throughout that decade, and beyond. This essay revisits that particular historical problem, by looking at a sample of five new synagogues that were erected in England during the 1870s and 1880s: St John’s Wood Synagogue (1880–82) in London; Bradford Synagogue (1880–81) in Yorkshire; West London Synagogue (1867–70); Princes Road Synagogue in Liverpool (1872–74); and New West End Synagogue in London (1877–79). Each offered its own different way to think about the appropriate design style for a contemporary Jewish place of worship, and how this coincided, or not, with the rituals of worship and with the requirements of the various congregations involved. The essay concludes by asking what relevance such debates might have today.

Morris Joseph and the West London Synagogue in the First World War

Morris Joseph and the West London Synagogue in the First World War

Editorial

Two rabbis played a major role at a key transitional period in the history of the Leo Baeck College. Eight years after its beginning in 1956 under the auspices of the Reform Synagogues of Great Britain (RSGB) (now Movement for Reform Judaism) it was joined as a co-sponsor by the Union of Liberal and Progressive Synagogues (ULPS) (now Liberal Judaism). Two years later Rabbi Dr Werner van der Zyl, the founder and Hon. Director of Studies retired, to be succeeded in the shared leadership by Rabbi Dr. John Rayner (1924-1995), representing the ULPS, as Hon. Director of Studies, and, in the specially created post of Hon. Registrar, by Rabbi Hugo Gryn (1930-1996), representing the RSGB. Together they oversaw the College’s development until the appointment of Rabbi Dr. Albert Friedlander in 1970. In addition to their administrative tasks, both served as teachers, Rabbi Rayner in the field of rabbinics, and Rabbi Gryn in the area of practical rabbinics. Both had refugee backgrounds but made the U.K. their permanent home, serving as the senior rabbis at the two ‘cathedral synagogues’ of their respective movements, Rayner at the Liberal Jewish Synagogue, St. Johns Wood, and Gryn at the West London Synagogue. Very different in temperament and personality, both made an indelible impact on their congregants, their students and the College itself.

A Sectarian Rite Gone Mainstream and Cutting-Edge: The Blossoming of Forms of Prayer for Jewish Worship Volume I

At the outset of the Victorian Era the liturgy of the newly formed British Reform Judaism made its first appearance in Forms of Prayer. It was essentially a rather traditional, yet venturesome prayer book by the largely self-taught charismatic spiritual leader, David W. Marks, for a congregation made up of Anglicised Sephardic and Ashkenazic families, the West London Synagogue. Unique in prayer book reform, the new rite was marked by a deemphasis on the Rabbinic tradition and a move towards an enlightened biblicism. Thus it acquired a bit of a sectarian look. Over time this qualified scriptural reductionism gave way, in the 1920s and 30s, during the days of Rabbis Morris Joseph and Harold Reinhart, to an increased appreciation of Rabbinic law and teaching and, with the influx of Liberal rabbis from Continental Europe after the Second World War, to a recovery of a connectedness with all of world Jewry. A new generation of native-born rabbis (Lionel Blue and Jonathan Magonet) produced volumes of Forms of Prayer from 1977 onward for an entire movement that carried on the Marks legacy and the learned contributions of the postwar German rabbis, while simultaneously going in wholly fresh directions. Bringing the longest continuing Reform siddur into the twenty-first century have been the energetic joint efforts of clergy, scholars and laity under the multifaceted editorial guidance of Jonathan Magonet.

Address Given at the West London Synagogue on the Occasion of the Inauguration of the Jewish Theological College of the Association of Synagogues in Great Britain, on 30 September 1956

Mr. Chairman, Members of the Staff, Ladies and Gentlemen, We, plain and simple members of the Anglo-Jewish Community, are gathered here today to congratulate the Association of Synagogues on a signal act of faith. For the opening here and now, in London, in 1956, of a Jewish Theological College, is nothing less than an act of faith, faith in the continuance of Anglo-Jewry, faith in the value of a college, faith in the existence of Jewish Theology. It is to my mind not only a great, but an astonishing, act, and I find it the more astonishing in that it is an act of affirmation; and since the contemporary Jewish scene is in many respects not one of affirmation but of abdication, each element in this triple affirmation invites emphasis.

From Artilleriestrasse to Upper Berkeley Street: the Origins of a Rabbinical College

The Leo Baeck College is one of the few institutions to be born out of the German refugee community in Britain, to have preserved the values of its origin, to have made the transition to a new culture and to have won for itself the respect of a new generation and built a new leadership. Its origins lie in the rabbinic seminary that was a quintessential product of pre-war German Jewry, the Hochschule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums. For the first half of its life the College was located at the West London Synagogue in Upper Berkeley Street, before its transfer to its present site at the Sternberg Centre for Judaism in East End Road, Finchley. This is a brief account of some of the stages in that first journey.

My Student Years at Leo Baeck College

I entered the Leo Baeck College in October 1959 and completed my studies there in June 1965. In those days the college had few students and was initially housed in the old council room of the West London Synagogue atop the main entrance in Upper Berkeley Street. In 1963 the building on the corner of Upper Berkeley Street and Seymour Place was demolished and in its place was erected a new building for the Leo Baeck College which also doubled as a venue for the West London Synagogue Religion School. In the late 50s the faculty was almost entirely made up of refugees from Nazism, many of them graduates of the Hochschule fuer die Wissenschaft des Judentums , the great Berlin seminary founded in 1 872 by Abraham Geiger and closed in 1942 by the Nazis. An exception was Rabbi Dr Alan Miller, a young and dynamic British born graduate of Jews College and Oxford University, who taught history and Modern Hebrew literature. In 1961 two other British born scholars joined the faculty, Raphael Loewe, who also taught at University College and David Patterson, Cowley lecturer in post-Biblical Hebrew at Oxford. By this time Alan Miller had left for New York to take up the prestigious post of Rabbi at the Society for the Advancement of Judaism. David Patterson took over the teaching of Modern Hebrew literature and Raphael Loewe taught us Midrash. Raphael Loewe, though an Ashkenazi, was Parnas Presidente of the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue in Maida Vale. He was later appointed Professor of Hebrew Studies at University College. David Patterson was to later found the Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies. An expert on Avraham Mapu (the first Hebrew novelist) Patterson also taught us the poetry of Bialik and the prose of Agnon. He was probably the most self-effacing of our teachers. Rabbi Dr Israel Otto Lehman, former curator of Hebrew documents at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, taught us liturgy and Mediaeval Jewish philosophy. He also offered to teach Arabic but was persuaded by the college authorities not to do so. (Arabic had been a part of the Hochschule curriculum.) Dr Lehman

My Experience as Student and Lecturer at Leo Baeck College

My experience of the College predates my admission to the Rabbinic programme. While I was studying Hebrew at UCL in the late 70s, I was fortunate enough to watch Charles Middleburgh and Jonathan Romain successfully make the transition from undergraduate to postgraduate rabbinic studies and knowing them allowed me access to the hallowed halls of the College at West London Synagogue. At that time as an external undergraduate I experienced some of the highlights of the College year including Summer Study Week and JCM at Bendorf. Bendorf was a difficult yet vital experience in putting some of the ghosts of Germany to rest for me as a child of refugees. Out of this emerged the exciting experiences of travel and learning offered by WUPJYS led by various rabbinic students primarily Wally Rothschild. For me the College seemed small and intimate. Faculty and students mixed casually and lessons were informal enough that I sat in on a number. The way in which Rabbi Albert Friedlander and Susan Lewin in the office welcomed me was always a delight. It was a period when there were a number of North and South American students including Danny Gottleib, Barbara Borts and Renee Werner who all made a significant mark on the communities they served and the College in general. Rabbi John Rayner's intellectual prowess was evident emphasising the correct reading and translation of texts. Despite the challenge of getting it right, a new compelling and spiritually fulfilling world of interpretation and critical reading of rabbinic texts was opened up to me. However I was not to follow them immediately as I left to study for my doctorate at HUC and work in Jewish education in USA for the next seven

Memoir of Leo Baeck College

I entered Leo Baeck College in September 1979 as 50 percent of the Class of 1984; my co-student was William Wolff. It would be hard to conceive of two less similar people, yet we hit it off like a house on fire and remained close mates throughout our College years. I came from an academic background; my general Jewish knowledge was almost nil, but I'd already mastered Biblical Hebrew. Willie, a tabloid journalist, was steeped in Yiddishkeit but couldn't differentiate between a s h va na ' and a s h va nach. Our lecturers that first year must have been in hysterics over us. In those days, as now, entry to the College was by interview. But what an interview! It was divided into three parts: a general discussion with the full College Board, a psychological assessment and a financial review. The College was then housed in the schoolrooms of the West London Synagogue. The interview with the full Board was held in the Council Room of WLS. We were surrounded by portraits of the good and the great who had ruled over WLS for several decades. Despite the somber setting, I've rarely, if ever, attended such a nonchalant interview. Most of the time I sat bemused, listening to the rabbis on the Board debating an abstruse point of theology that had been unearthed by my innocent reply to some question or other. When Jonathan Magonet asked me why I wanted to become a rabbi, I said that I'd received a great deal from my Judaism as a child and adolescent, and I wanted to give something back to the community. Evidently, this was sufficient back then to get me into the course. My psychological assessment was with Wendy Greengross. Knowing that I'd come from several years as a lecturer in Religious Studies at the University of Bristol, Wendy pointed to the pock-marked and graffiti-covered school desk between us and asked me whether I would honestly consider leaving the University, with all its wonderful facilities, for this (I recall that her voice italicised the word 'this'). I'm sure that my affirmative answer was evidence of

My First Day at Leo Baeck College

My first day at Leo Baeck College, I arrived early, dressed soberly but impressively to demonstrate my serious intent. I was shown into a room where I sat with two other students among the drawings and misspelled Hebrew words of a West London Synagogue cheder class. Feeling frightfully shy, I did not introduce myself to my two colleagues, and they, being equally reticent did not introduce themselves to me. So there we sat and waited for some twenty minutes in total silence. Rabbi Albert Friedlander z'l finally came in, blinked, and asked what we were doing. 'We are waiting for our class', we explained. 'O', he said, 'didn't they tell you? Your lecturer cancelled. You don't have anything for another hour and a half'. Somewhat bemused, I made my way up to the office where I was greeted by a secretary who handed me a phone. On the other end of the line was an energetic clergyman wondering if I could come and give a talk about women in Judaism at his Church the following Sunday. I knew nothing about the subject, but I had not yet learnt that one can say 'no'. All I remember of the rest of that first week was spending every spare moment in the Library frantically reading all I could about women in Judaism. I wasn't by nature a feminist, but a few similar requests later and suddenly I was an 'expert'. I had been to the Leo Baeck College study week in the past, and I had met students and staff when they came to Cambridge for a few days. My impression had been of venerable teachers of great wisdom with thick German accents exuding a deep love and knowledge of their subject. By the time I came to Leo Baeck as a student, every one of them had died. My impression in those first days was of young teachers looking anxious as well they might as the mantle of the generation of the Hochshul fell upon them. Today a similar sense of loss pervades the College. With the deaths of Albert Friedlander, John Rayner, Ben Segal and Hyam Maccoby in so short a period of time, the next generation feels not only lost, but scared at the awesome responsibility that is now theirs. They must pass on what little they feel they know and mould the next generation of leaders. The shape of Progressive Judaism is in their hands.

Private Conscience: Public Duty

It is a great pleasure, and an honour, to have been invited to give this lecture under the auspices of two organisations dear to my heart and so important to our community. I thank Rabbi Dr Mark Winer, Senior Rabbi of the West London Synagogue, and Rabbi Professor Jonathan Magonet, Principal of Leo Baeck College Centre for Jewish Education; and I thank you all for attending. Rabbi Dr Werner van der Zyl died nineteen years ago. Some of you may have known him. I didn't. He was a towering figure in the development of the British Reform movement in the twentieth century: refugee from Germany; pupil of the great Leo Baeck; rabbi at Alyth Gardens; Senior Rabbi here; founder of Leo Baeck College; architect of the RSGB. In the words of the late Rabbi Hugo Gryn:

Editorial

Reform Judaism in the UK owes its origins to both Sephardi and Ashkenazi elements. When nineteen Sephardim and five Ashkenazim signed a declaration on 15 April 1840 that led to the creation of the West London Synagogue of British Jews it represented a coming together of the two traditions. The list of Sephardi names on the table of past presidents and chairmen of the congregation attests to the lingering presence of those early families till today over 150 years later. The prayerbooks that originated in the new congregation, up to the most recent ones that serve the British Reform movement as a whole, remain influenced by both traditions. However, because of the impact of refugees from Germany and the dominant East European Ashkenazi culture of British Jewry, the ethos of British Reform is today well within the Ashkenazi fold.

The Spirit of Judaism. Sermons Preached Chiefly at the West London Synagogue

The Spirit of Judaism. Sermons Preached Chiefly at the West London Synagogue