Topic to be announced; click here for speaker list.
]]>
]]>
17/09/14
10/09/14
Nancy Kline, Time to Think: Listening to Ignite the Human Mind
Jonathan Beckman, How to Ruin a Queen: Marie Antoinette, the Stolen Diamonds and the Scandal that Shook the French Throne
Adin Steinsaltz, My Rebbe
Alison Hardingham et al, The Coach's Coach: Personal Development for Personal Developers
Dennis Prager & Joseph Telushkin, Why the Jews? The Reason for Antisemitism
The palpable sense of relief that generally follows
Tisha B’Av is absent this year. I usually
feel that having spent three weeks contemplating the destruction of the Temple
and other horrors of Jewish history, I’ve met my obligation and can leave Tisha
B’Av refreshed, ready for the summer holidays and with one eye already on Rosh
HaShanah. This year, however, given the
recent conflict in Israel and the shocking increase in anti-Semitism in Europe,
the air is heavy, laden with uncertainty and ambivalence – almost guilt – at having
moved back to normal life post-Tisha B’Av.
It feels to me that the notoriously flimsy boundary between valid
criticism and naked anti-Semitism is in danger of collapse.
This past week, the spectre of divestment from Israel again raised its
head. I suspect that for many it will be the anti-Israel
instrument of choice for in the months ahead, in preference to the rather
more demanding option of reasoned discussion.
Those it affects most are our students on campus, who often find
themselves on the front line of anti-Israel hostility. Even if their
convictions are strong, their Israel experience is characterised by the
constant need to justify and defend. The
opportunity that I had as a student to create what Ambassador Daniel Taub once
described to me as ‘my Israel’ narrative – the space that allowed me to
consider what Israel meant to me, what I aspired for it to be and what my role
might be in attaining that – is commonly denied our students, who are constantly
on the back foot.
It is in that vein that we turn to today’s haftarah, the first of the
so-called ‘seven of comfort’ read between Tisha B’Av and Rosh HaShanah,
selected from the 40th chapter of Isaiah. It starts with the famous line:
נחמו נחמו עמי יאמר אלקיכם
Comfort, comfort My people, says your God. (Isaiah 40:1)
To whom is God is addressing His
words – who should comfort My people?
The Aramaic Targum offers the obvious answer – God is speaking through
Isaiah to His prophets:
נבייא אתנביאו תנחומין על עמי
My prophets! Prophesy comfort to My people. (Targum Onkelos ad loc.)
This reading (also favoured by
Rashi) does not address the repetition of the word נחמו – comfort, something that
can only be understood properly with reference to the next verse:
דברו על לב ירושלם... כי מלאה צבאה כי נרצה עונה כי לקחה מיד ידוד כפלים בכל חטאתיה
Speak to the heart of Jerusalem... her time of estrangement has been fulfilled and her transgression has been forgiven, for she has been doubly punished by God for all her sins. (Isaiah 40:2)
It seems that the Jewish people
require a double measure of comfort because their punishment has been doubled,
a view validated by midrashic sources (e.g. Midrash Tanchuma Devarim 1).
Whatever the intention of the
verses, we are only too familiar with this ‘double punishment’ – the media distortions,
the obvious double standards of Israel’s detractors (where are the mass demonstrations
against daily massacres in Syria and exterminations in Iraq?) and the frequent
uncritical adoption of a single version of a war narrative, when, as always,
there are multiple perspectives.
If we are subject to ‘double
punishment’, we need double comfort, as God demanded from our prophets. They must replace pain with comfort,
negativity with positivity and despair with hope.
But today there are no prophets and
so the call of Isaiah must go out to their modern-day substitutes – the leaders
of our communities. That call is not restricted
to rabbis or other formal leaders, but it goes out to everyone engaged in
Jewish life who is able to do something.
All of us can write a letter to an MP or minister, respond to a
blog-post, speak out sensibly against all bias and bigotry, attend an event, support
communal efforts to counteract the negativity and inspire others to do
likewise.
An unfathomable aspect of
the current situation is the unwillingness of many free-world leaders to articulate
something obvious. Many of
those who violently attack and seek the ultimate elimination of the State of
Israel, and especially their financial backers, harbour the same long-term intentions
towards Christians and, indeed, the whole of Western society. As much as we worry about events in Israel
and Europe, we are not oblivious to the brutal, barbaric persecutions of Christians
and Yazidis in Iraq. I believe that Israel
and the Jews are just first in line; in reality, the very fabric of our society
is imperilled for all people, regardless of faith or creed. Emphasising these
threats is one way of focusing the attention of others.
Yet as well as highlighting these wrongs,
we must double our message of hope and comfort.
If the pain is doubled, the message of hope must be doubly powerful.
The importance of articulating the
message is highlighted by Isaiah a few verses further into his prophecy:
על הר גבה עלי לך מבשרת ציון הרימי בכח קולך מבשרת ירושלם הרימי אל תיראי
Ascend a high mountain, herald of Zion. Raise your voice powerfully, herald of Jerusalem. Raise it, do not be afraid... (Isaiah 40:9)
We have to carry our message of hope to high places and speak it where it can be heard. We should never underestimate the impact we can have, nor where we have friends – sometimes critical friends – but friends nonetheless. They are everywhere, members of every religious groups – Christians, Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists – and of none. They exist at the workplace, among journalists and at universities. We must redouble our efforts to build friendly, functional relationships with them, even when we disagree about Israel, or, indeed, anything else.
This is one message of hope. The other is that that our voice, even if it small, cannot and will not be silenced.
]]>נחמו נחמו עמי יאמר אלקיכם
A prominent halachic expert, rabbinic mentor and empathetic spiritual leader with international influence, Dayan Gershon Lopian was rabbi, then emeritus rabbi, of the Edgware Yeshurun Synagogue.
Gershon Lopian, scion of a distinguished rabbinical family, was born in Portsmouth in 1938, the first child of Rabbi Leib and Tzippa (née Levy). Rabbi Leib, a founding member of Gateshead Kolel (Institute for Higher Rabbinical Studies), was subsequently co-head of Gateshead Yeshiva. His paternal grandfather Rabbi Eliyahu was a major figure in the ‘Musar’ (ethical discipline) movement, known for his incisive teachings and exceptional piety.
Rabbi Lopian studied first at Gateshead Yeshiva, then in Israel under his grandfather in Kfar Chassidim and at Chevron Yeshiva in Jerusalem, receiving semichah (ordination) from Rabbis Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, Ovadiah Yosef and others. He pursued advanced studies at Sunderland Kolel, where he was learning when he married Judy Saberski in 1964. He also trained in practical rabbinics with the renowned halachic decisor Rabbi Henoch Padwa, whom he visited in London for extended periods. While in Sunderland, Rabbi Lopian officiated at a local Shul on festivals, supervised the mikveh and butcher’s shop, and delivered shiurim.
In 1974, on a trip to the USA, Rabbi Lopian was introduced to the world’s foremost halachist, Rabbi Moshe Feinstein. He subsequently studied intensely for several months under the tutelage of Rabbi Feinstein, who conferred upon him an advanced semichah, allowing him to deliver complex rulings in a broad range of halachic fields.
In 1976, Rabbi Lopian was elected rabbi of the Federation’s Edgware Yeshurun Synagogue, a position he occupied with distinction until his appointment as emeritus rabbi at his retirement in 2006. For a period in the ‘80s, he also served as a judge on the Beth Din of the Federation of Synagogues; this appointment dubbed him ‘the Dayan’, a title by which he was affectionately known for the rest of his life.
The Dayan was known as an attentive and capable rabbi: compassionate pastor, expert educator and effective champion of greater halachic observance. His tenure at Yeshurun coincided with a tremendous development of the Edgware Orthodox community: an increase of Shuls and opportunities for Torah study; the construction of a mikveh in which he was a driving force; the influx of observant families and newly religious to the area and the consequent proliferation of Jewish shops and other facilities. This transformation is in large part attributable to the efforts of the Lopians, who gradually emerged as the senior Orthodox leaders in Edgware.
The Dayan's growing role as an halachic decisor of national and, ultimately, international significance reflected a unique confluence of outstanding scholarship, absolute conviction in the benevolent universality of the halachic system, a loathing for superficiality - what he called 'sartorial Judaism', a genuine love of people and a legendary sense of humour. He was renowned for an ability to identify intensely with an individual's circumstances and challenges, sometimes even crying with strangers who had unburdened themselves.
The Dayan's decision-making technique was bravely anthropocentric, although his reputation for blanket leniency is an oversimplification. He would actually start from the needs and context of the inquirer and move outwards to find a bespoke, yet irrefutably authentic, halachic response. He fielded questions from all over the world, especially in the areas of Jewish family law and the challenges of the newly religious. With a reputation for accessibility, he learned all day in a tiny study, constantly interrupted by calls, which he answered himself. He taught hundreds of bridegrooms and was the advisor to many organisations, especially the transformational ‘Family Week’ programme, through which he and Rebbetzin Judy became long-term friends and mentors to numerous families.
The Dayan was also friend, guru and counsellor to scores of rabbis, many of whom he trained in practical rabbinics and halachic methodology. A true 'rabbi's rabbi', he rejected rabbinic dependence, encouraging his students to make their own halachic and counselling decisions. Enormously influential in the current rabbinate, his students lead communities across the globe.
In recent years, Dayan Lopian suffered from a number of debilitating complaints which he bore with fortitude, supported tirelessly by the rebbetzin. Yet his increasing immobility scarcely impacted on his communal engagements and despite his obvious pain, he continued to attend events and teach shiurim, the last of which was delivered less than 24 hours before his unexpected passing.
He is survived by Rebbetzin Judy - his partner in every aspect of his communal work, two sons, three daughters, grandchildren, a great-grandchild and seven siblings.
Harvey Belovski is rabbi of Golders Green Synagogue and a long-standing student of Dayan Gershon Lopian
A version of this obituary first appeared in the Jewish Chronicle
Please feel free to download and distribute
A version of this first appeared in the Jewish Year Book 2014
10/12/13