Thursday, September 24, 2020

Preparing for Yom Kippur


My lovely father was quite well known for his sermons. During the year, he thought about them in advance, and made 5 or 6 notes on a scrap of paper as an aide-memoire. When the time came, he stood up and spoke without a written text. Erev Shabbat he would usually speak about what was happening in the world. On Shabbat he discussed the Torah portion. His references were often diverse - they could be anything from Hannah Arendt to Rabbi Akiva, from Homer (both the Greek poet and the cartoon Simpson) to Heinrich Heine, from Freud to Finkielkraut. He had a great sense of humour and, for me most importantly, when he spoke you felt like he was speaking to you, not at you.

For those rabbis blessed to have a pulpit position, the High Holydays can require up to 5 sermons in a 10-day period. And since the services tend to have the largest attendance of the year, there is the sense that you kind of need to wow people. In fact, these sermons were the only ones that my father would type up beforehand. Anyway, the time came when I was blessed with a pulpit position, and was required to write some High Holyday sermons.

So, I wrote my sermons and, each year, the night before I was due to preach, I would telephone my father long-distance (in the far-off days when there was no internet chat, only e-mail) and read him what I'd written so he could check I hadn't made any major mistakes. He'd make some suggestions. I'd argue with them all. I'd make some changes and then we both could get some sleep.

In 2003, just before Rosh Hashana, I phoned my father as usual, and asked if I might read what I'd written. "You know what?" he said to me, "I don't think so. You don't need me any more." I was really surprised, but didn't argue. We chatted a little and said goodnight. When I'd finished my final draft, I emailed him a copy. He wrote back that it was the best I'd written so far. And the congregation seemed to agree with him.

That was the last High Holydays of his life, as he died the following summer. And when Rosh Hashana came round again, and I cried because I couldn't phone and ask him to check my sermon, I heard his words - "You don't need me any more" - and realised that, for sermon-writing, he was right. 

I'm thinking of my father tonight, as I prepare for Yom Kippur services. I still worry about my sermons, but I mostly do ok. I'm recalling that the night before my ordination, I asked him if he had any tips he might share with me for my future rabbinate. He told me:  when preaching, remember James Joyce! I was a bit perplexed, and he explained: "the end of the book went right back to the beginning. Wherever you end up, make sure you connect back to where you started. It gives a sense of completion. And, at least be brief. You always get points for that." Now this I can do! 

Ok, time to get back to my prep. Wishing all those who fast a g'mar tov. Shana tova!

Saturday, September 19, 2020

Ruth Bader Ginsberg z"l


We awoke this Rosh Hashanah morning here in Europe to the news that Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg died last night at the age of 87. She was at home in Washington DC, surrounded by her loved ones. 

If you don't know what she achieved in her lifetime, please take a moment to read about her. To those who know, we had hoped that she might survive just a little longer so she might do just a little more. She fought with all her might, on so many levels. But now her struggle is over, and she rests in peace. 

Jewish tradition teaches that one who dies on Rosh Hashanah is a righteous person, a tsaddik. We already knew that about Ruth Bader Ginsberg. As we wish that her memory will be for a blessing, it will only truly be so if we step up and continue her work. That is the best tribute we may offer as we mourn her loss.

With condolences to the family and dear ones who mourn their loss on a day that is supposed to be full of joy for Shabbat and the New Year.

NY Times (paywall)
The Times obit (paywall)
BBC obit
The Guardian obit
A statement from Barack Obama on the passing of Justice RBG
People magazine

Thursday, September 17, 2020

Shana Tova 5781


Am kind of excited that we get to begin a new year tomorrow. Any chance to reboot, to recalibrate, to restart is most welcome!

To all who celebrate Rosh Hashanah, may we wish you a safe, healthy and happy new year.

Saturday, September 12, 2020

& Farewell Sir Terence Conran

 


News is coming through that Sir Terence Conran has died. Without Habitat, all the homes I've ever had would have looked very different. In appreciation of his contribution to design in the UK, and with condolences to his family. Thank you, Sir.


BBC report
BBC Obit
Guardian obit
The Times obit (paywall)
Independent obit

Thursday, September 10, 2020

Dame Diana Rigg RIP

 


So farewell Dame Enid Diana Elizabeth Rigg. On the one hand, I find it strange that I am sad at the demise of someone I have never met and did not know. Diana Rigg's work will always be available to me through images and recordings, although there will be no additions to the collection. I send my condolences to all who knew and loved her for their loss.

On the other hand, Diana Rigg was an actress whose work I enjoyed often over the years. Her episodes of the Avengers are timeless, as is her wit and charm. And she could do anything, from Mrs Danvers to Mrs Pumphrey, from Agatha Christies to the Oresteia via a bit of Dickens and Doctor Who. She starred in Theatre of Blood, the only horror movie I've ever enjoyed. She was in Genghis Cohn (the film version of a Romain Gary novel that I wish more folk would read) and she married James Bond. 

There is one way that Diana Rigg had a small and direct influence on my family - my father adored her as Mrs Peel, and went to see her in Jumpers. Being rather short-sighted, he got seats in the front of the theatre, and was thus also able to smell her perfume. Somehow (who knows, and who knows if it was correct information), he learned that the scent she wore was Bellodgia


and consequently presented my mother with a vial (that I later inherited. It was indeed a lovely scent). 

As I sit here remembering all the pleasure Diana Rigg's work brought to my life, I now recall that while I never met her, I did once meet her wig, which was a bit of a thrill. I saw a version of Heartbreak House c. 1983 as a guest of our neighbour Rosemary Harris, in which Ms Rigg played Mrs Hesione Hushabye. Afterwards we went backstage to say hello and thank you, and while we were in the dressing-room, the wig-mistress stopped by to collect Rosemary's wig, and we could see that she'd already been for Mrs Hushabye's!

Feeling grateful for the life and work of Diana Rigg. May she rest in peace.


BBC obituary here.
The Guardian obituary
The Times obit (paywall)
The Telegraph obit (paywall)
NY Times obit (paywall)
Evening Standard obit
A Life in Pictures (the Guardian)
a plethora of Peel pics
Tweets on Twitter in memoriam
Wikipedia entry
2019 interview (paywall)

Friday, September 04, 2020

Didn't We Have a Lovely Time the Day We Went to Mantova

The original plan for this birthday was a trip to Venice. A kind friend had offered us the opportunity to stay somewhere, and the city was supposed to be relatively empty for the time of year. However, especially just before the Chagim, and with the numbers creeping up again, it did not seem sensible to travel by public transport, so we decided to wait until a more auspicious moment.

Nu, we needed to find somewhere to go for the day, somewhere reachable in the Pandina. Then L suggested Mantova. I knew sod all about Mantova, and initially wasn't very enthusiastic. How wrong I was!


The weather was lovely - just hot enough for L, but heading for autumn in a way that meant I could wear long trousers and sandals. And this was our first view of the city. With swans. Not the greatest photo, especially because it really cannot convey the WOW factor of suddenly being hit by this view from the car.

We were trying to make it there by 10:30 am so we had a shot at getting into the synagogue before it closed. The lady on the phone said the time was inflexible because of their alarm system. We just made it, and while the docent concluded her previous meeting, Piglet got a chance to pose again:


Our guide began by asking us to prepare a small donation for the work of the synagogue to be given to her at the end of her tour. She then took us straight into the sanctuary. She told us everything, about the past, her past, the current community ... including the incongruent information that the rabbi in Verona had recently divorced his wife. 


It really was a quite lovely conversation in the end. At one point, while I was taking some pictures, she asked L if I was married. L said no, and that we are together, which she took quite well I think as before we left she said next time we come to Mantova we should call her and all go for a coffee together. I do wonder, though, if she had been thinking that I might be a prospective match for the newly-single rabbi!

This visit made our day, and anything else would be icing on the cake. Speaking of which, we then walked to the Centro Storico


and found a cafe with a table partly in the sun & partly in the shade where we could partake of some refreshments and I could receive my birthday bounty.

Maybe when you get to be this old you are a bit tired and don't want to see everything, or maybe you realise that you don't have to tick all the tourist boxes. We wandered for a while. I learned about a local delicacy - Mostarda Mantovana (more fruit than savoury condiment)


We had a lovely picnic lunch in the garden of the Palazzo Ducale. Mantova is quite a meaty place, and porky also, so L had prepared some delicious panini full of ingredients that kosher and veggie folk could enjoy without fear. Then we went to get a map from the tourist info office, which happens to be in Rigoletto's house, so Piglet was able to pose with the statue in the garden, and "Pigoletto" came to be!

I'd been up late the night before trying to make some peach jam, and was beginning to run out of steam. But there was one other place that I definitely had to visit. We bought a postcard for my niece by the Basilica di Sant'Andrea, and then walked through what was once the Jewish Ghetto.


There is so much to see when walking through a city, and on so many levels: up above eye level & down; shapes and colours of buildings & details of windows, walls and doors; people and what they are doing. This was one of my favourite details, from a door somewhere between the synagogue and the Piazza delle Erbe. Is it a tree, or an alien?


Our final planned destination was the Casa del Rabbino. It is a 17th-century building from the ghetto, and doesn't seem to have an actual rabbi connected to it. Thus this rabbina had to have a look. Unfortunately from a visitor's point of view it is a private building, and cannot be visited. So we took a few pictures from the outside


We considered visiting Palazzo Te, especially the Chamber of Giants, but we passed the car park on the way there, and decided to drive there, and then decided to keep driving. We hope to return to Mantova, and to begin the trip at Palazzo Te with our batteries fully charged. We beat the rush hour on the autostrada, and made it home with time to rest before a celebratory dinner with friends.

What a wonderful day! What a great suggestion by L! Grazie mille!

Thursday, September 03, 2020

Reprieve for Man Buns?



The Nations League international football tournament began tonight, and football-starved fans were able to follow their national teams, albeit still only from their sofas. Italian TV showed the match between Germany and Spain live from Stuttgart, and I had a pleasant time on my sofa with a stream without commentary. Very nice. As a bona fide citizen, I rooted for my home country, but they were robbed of victory in the 96th minute by a goal that looked suspiciously offside. There seemed to be few complaints, which suggests that either the conceding team was dumbfounded by shock, or their players had a better understanding of the laws of football than I.

After it was all over, I wandered around the sports pages to see if anyone had anything to say about my offside query, and came across some photographs of the Welsh international Gareth Bale. He has sported a man bun for a while now, and I really don't go for that look. And then, I saw this:


What is most shocking to me is that he needs his roots done. Considering the amount of time he has been sitting on the bench at Real Madrid, you'd think he could pop into his local peluquero and get a top-up. Meanwhile, having seen this, I'm even more shocked to realise that I prefer the man bun. Sigh.

(Kudos to the photographer who got this shot. Please let me know their name so I may give them credit.)


 

Wednesday, September 02, 2020

Siri Cannot Help


The folks at Apple did their best to try and cover all possible questions we might ask Siri. Looks like an occasion for Plan B, and thanks to Margaret Mitchell et al. "After all, tomorrow is another day." Nighty night.

Pigoletto


Larger travel plans may have been delayed, but L's suggestion of a celebratory day trip to Mantova on the anniversary of my birth was an inspired choice. We stopped by the tourist information centre to get a map, and it was based in Rigoletto's House, so we took a couple of photos with the statue in the garden. This was Piglet's contribution to the shoot. Can only label it "Pigoletto"!