In my Kol Nidrei sermon this year, I spoke about the importance of creating an inclusive community where all Jews can feel safe, regardless of their political differences. And in light of the attack on a synagogue in Manchester on Yom Kippur morning, this message feels more urgent than ever.

Over the past two years, a number of members have asked why I haven’t been more outspoken about the war between Israel and Hamas. Despite the fact that a ceasefire is in place as I write this, the deeper question still remains: how do we maintain community in the face of events that lead us to hold divergent views?

Our community includes people who don’t believe that Israel should exist as a Jewish state, as well as people who unquestioningly support Israeli government actions, but most of us tend to fall somewhere in between. Taking a public stand favouring one perspective risks alienating large portions of our membership. We’ve seen other London synagogues lose members over rabbis making polarising statements. But my reluctance to specify my position isn’t just about numbers – it’s about preserving Belsize Square Synagogue as a safe refuge for Jews of every outlook.

And we desperately need that refuge. A congregant had their summer holiday in Spain spoilt by a tour guide who launched into a tirade, not against Israel, but against Jews in general. There is a retailer in Germany who recently displayed a sign in his shop window saying: ‘JEWS are banned from here!!!! Nothing personal. Not even antisemitism. I just can’t stand you.’ Another congregant was harassed by neighbours, publicly accused of supporting genocide, and had their name and picture distributed around the neighbourhood – not for anything they said about Israel or Gaza, but simply for being Jewish.
It got so bad they had to move out of London. And of course, there’s Manchester. The people who perpetrate these attacks don’t care about our politics – rather their hatred is aimed at all Jews, full stop.

In the 86 years since our Synagogue’s founding, we’ve never needed a safe space for all Jews more desperately. Belsize was founded on precisely this principle. At the outset, we served as a spiritual haven for German Jewish émigrés of all backgrounds. Orthodox Jews gathered with agnostics. Berliners prayed alongside Frankfurters. There were even public forumsdebating whether to establish a Jewish State in Palestine, with the community widely split! Yet despite our differences, that Big Belsize
Umbrella welcomed all Jews seeking shelter.

But maintaining an inclusive community isn’t easy. It requires self-awareness and self-restraint from all of us. Any time we look at someone with whom we disagree and label them as ‘other’, we weaken the foundation on which community is built. In fact, it is an incredibly slippery and treacherous slope when we focus more on our differences than on what we have in common.

In my sermon, I spoke of the diferences between Hillel and Shammai, two first-century BCE sages who disagreed respectfully and modelled how to argue for the sake of understanding Torah, rather than for personal victory. However, while their students initially maintained this civility, when political tensions rose and legal interpretations diverged, the dangers of ‘othering’ took hold. In one instance, during a hotly contested vote, the armed zealots from the School of Shammai trapped and killed over 3,000 followers of Hillel. Our sages say this day is second only to Tisha B’Av in tragedy.

Yet Hillel and Shammai themselves show us a different path. In Pirkei Avot, the Ethics of the
Fathers, we learn: ‘Any argument made for the sake of Heaven shall endure for all time.’ Our sages offer Hillel and Shammai as the ideal example of such an enduring disagreement. An argument ‘for the sake of Heaven’ means the goal is not to prove the other wrong or to be seen as right, but rather to arrive together at the best understanding of God’s law. Their disagreements endured because they sought consensus regarding Torah law, not dominance over one another.

During my rabbinic training, my mentor Rabbi Ed Feinstein taught me a method for arriving at a deeper understanding of both ideas and opinions: asking ‘why’ not once or twice, but five times.
Pirkei Avot advises: ‘Don’t look at a container, but rather what it contains.’ If we look only at the surface of someone’s opinion, we miss what underlies their belief. By expressing curiosity and asking ‘why’ repeatedly, we can uncover core values.

So ofen in conversations about politics and current events, we focus only on surface policies.When discussing immigration, we might hear ‘No asylum hotels in this community!’ and immediately view someone as cold or unsympathetic. But after exploring what’s behind their beliefs, we might come to learn that what they ultimately care about is creating stable, thriving communities – the very same value that could be fulfilled by helping asylum seekers find stability. When we dig deeper, we often discover we share fundamental principles, even when we initially disagree on policy.

This is what I’m trying to model with the idea of the Big Belsize Brolly. If I rush to take a stance that risks alienating groups, we all lose the ability to have conversations that move beyond divisive policies toward identifying common core values. This approach matters now more than ever – not just regarding
Israel and Gaza, but regarding all the political and social issues that threaten to divide us.

I encourage you not to avoid difficult conversations about Israel and Gaza, immigration or other contentious topics. But approach them respectfully, lovingly. As Pirkei Avot instructs: ‘Give everyone the benefit of the doubt.’ Don’t rush to label them as ‘other’ or vilify them for policies they support without understanding why. See them as no different from you: someone who feels strongly about core principles that you may very likely share.

The events of recent months have shown us how fragile Jewish safety is, even in places we thought secure. I understand that some of you wish I would say or do things differently. But sometimes, in order to achieve a greater goal, we need to set aside certain desires that, although honourable and appealing, might actually prevent us from realising that larger vision.

As rabbi and steward of this community, my commitment is to honour our origins and ensure that Belsize remains a spiritual refuge where all Jews can feel safe, respected and at home, regardless of our many differences. In an increasingly fractured world, preserving spaces where we can disagree without dividing is not just important – it’s essential.

Rabbi Gabriel Botnick

Rabbi Gabriel Botnick on a route to Shabbat happiness

This past Shabbat, as the temperature was approaching 30 degrees, I sat down to enjoy my first Aperol Spritz of the season. Immediately, I felt as if I were on holiday – enjoying a good book while fending off the heat with a deliciously refreshing drink.

Of course, we are well aware of the Pavlovian connection between the senses and memory. The faintest trace of a perfume can conjure vivid memories of long-past loved ones. Or, as Proust mused in his writing, biting into a madeleine can lead one to recall long-forgotten childhood experiences. Our sages even note that in the Torah’s various descriptions of manna, this heavenly food would remind people of different things based on their life experiences: to the elderly it brought to mind memories of rich, decadent cakes, while to the young it evoked the flavour of sweet cream. All of which is to say, it’s no surprise that a Spritz can help me revisit the sands of Sicily from the comfort of my own sofa.
It’s worth acknowledging that such sensory triggers tend to elicit recollections with particularly strong emotional associations – great joy or anger, profound love or sadness. For me, connecting with my family while on summer holiday is when I am happiest and most content. Without distractions from the outside world or the demands of work, I can allow myself to relax and be fully present with my wife and kids, building memories that help power me through the busy weeks and months ahead. And so, while others might view a cheeky weekend cocktail as a mere refreshment, for me it is a portal to a headspace of happiness.

This might be why, when the rabbis of the Talmud discuss the ways they find joy on Shabbat, they invariably mention their favourite foods. One rabbi finds pleasure through a fish roasted with beetroots and garlic, while another says he prefers snacking on fried whitebait. The idea being, I believe, that by indulging in sensory delights on Shabbat, one is transported in one’s mind to a realm of utter bliss and tranquillity. And it is specifically on Shabbat – a day free of demands, spent however we wish – that this mental holiday is made possible.

Whatever you have planned for this summer – whether a trip to a far-off land, morning swims in the ponds, or simply some time off from your usual routine – I hope it helps you gain a renewed sense of joy, contentment, and vigour. But more importantly, I want to encourage you to identify some sensory experience – a particular drink or snack, the fragrance of a flower or melody of a song – that you’ll be able to revisit once your daily grind resumes. So that later in the year, when you are in desperate need of a quick escape, you can satisfy that need by enjoying an indulgent Shabbat afternoon.