Rabbi Pete Tobias
2 July 2016

Liberal Judaism biennial conferences have a reputation of being rather breathless and exciting, but I think the opportunity to encounter more than two thousand years’ worth of how our people have prayed through the ages adds a new dimension to that. I hope you both enjoyed and were moved by the experience. My thanks both to you for participating and to the actors for their part in bringing the worship experiences to life.

The purpose was, of course, to offer a glimpse into the manner in which Jews have sought to express their connection to God in the many times and places that they have sought to do so. A thought occurred to me during the creation of the event that has just taken place. How would our ancestors from those different eras and geographical locations feel were they to have the opportunity to be here with us on this Shabbat morning? Would the Judahite peasant understand that the words we read are the verbal equivalent of his offering in the Temple? Would the dancing Chasidim of the seventeenth century listening to our singing of familiar words be able to find any glimpse of the joy with which they were encouraged to celebrate their Judaism? And the Rabbis – they who carried Judaism from the ruins of a smouldering Jerusalem and formed it into the practices and prayers that have sustained it for almost two millennia – would they recognise and acknowledge what Liberal Judaism, our movement, has done to develop, refine and transmit their ideas and ideals, their vision and their hope?

Because that is what we have done. It began when the Jews of Europe first began to emerge from the ghettoes and meet the challenge to shape a Judaism that could find a home in the modern world. The emergence of new kinds of synagogues in nineteenth century Germany – called Temples because those who founded them understood that they were the descendants of the building that had once stood in Jerusalem – was the latest development in the Jewish yearning to communicate with the Almighty. And since that dawn of Liberal Judaism, the musical accompaniment has expanded from organ to guitars and other instruments, God has ceased being addressed as a man and many of our ancestors’ cherished beliefs – like the desire for a return to Temple worship or prayers for the arrival of the Messiah – have been removed.

Now Judaism faces a challenge once more. How, in our technological, scientific, sophisticated, materialistic and even cynical world can we find ways to continue, renew and develop what our ancestors sought to do? How can we express the awe experienced by those who watched the smoke of sacrifice ascend to the skies from which they desperately hoped that rain would fall? How can we emulate the urgency and creativity of the Rabbis who created words of prayer to be a substitute for that Temple experience? How can we honour the courage of those who gathered, terrified, in so many places, seeking to keep alive the spark of their faith against a gale of hate? And where can we find the joy in worshipping God that was – and in many ways still is – a feature of Chasidism, which, despite our misgivings about its theology and attitudes, offers a level of celebration that is too often absent from our worship?

We live, I think, in an age that struggles to pray, that has difficulty in expressing its connection with its God and understanding its place in a challenging and troubled world. As Liberal Jews we are fortunate to have a proud heritage that has always sought to do just that. This morning we have encountered some of its different manifestations through the ages. What will be our contribution?