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Welcome to Kolot, the podcast of The Ark Synagogue, a bold, experiential and caring Progressive Jewish community in Northwood, London.
Through sermons, reflections and conversations from across our community, Kolot explores Jewish life, learning and values in the world we live in today. Rooted in tradition and open to new perspectives, these episodes bring together voices that inspire thought, connection and belonging.
Whether you are Jewish, exploring Judaism, or simply looking for meaningful reflection, you are warmly welcome.
To learn more about The Ark Synagogue, visit arksynagogue.org.
Ki Tetze is the parashah that marks one year since I arrived here at The Ark. It was later in the Gregorian calendar, in the first week of September, but our Jewish calendar marks time differently, and Torah has another rhythm. So, one “Torah” year ago, I came here, to this bimah, and talked to you about this parashah, and I brought sticky notes with me. If you don’t remember, the sermon is still available on our website — we didn’t have Substack and Kolot yet…
As I was writing this sermon, I found myself a bit like Moses in Devarim: looking back at the story of this year, at what I have learnt, what the community has been through, and where we all are today.
Well, this week, my first message is:
(sticky note) We have survived.
It was a year full of learning — meaning that I made lots of mistakes, and you were so kind and loving to me. But it was also a year of creation, of establishing new relationships, of parties. You have learnt by now that I really appreciate a celebration. And tonight is a small one. Small because it’s bittersweet: we are sending some very important children off to their studies abroad.
And this brings me back to my sermon from one year ago, which was inspired by the letter Rabbi Sharon Brous wrote to her daughter as she took her to university, far from home, comparing that moment to Moses’ message to the Israelites. In my message, I said that this parashah — like the whole book of Deuteronomy — is a bunch of sticky notes to the Israelites, as Moses knows he is not crossing the Jordan with them.
I talked about the passage that inspired one of my research projects at college, the ben sorer u’moreh — the defiant son — and about one of my most loved verses in Torah, which can also be found in this parashah.
That verse became my promise to you: “You must not remain indifferent” — “Lo tuchal lehit’alem.”
One year ago, I said to you:
“Lo tuchal lehit’alem — I can promise you that I won’t remain indifferent. I will work with all my heart and soul to continue building this community with my amazing colleagues and friends, Rabbi Aaron and Rabbi Lea, with my co-workers, and especially with you. Along my way, I will certainly offer you some of my loving sticky notes.”
Parashat Ki Tetze also talks about promises — nedarim. In verses 23:22–24 we read:
“When you make a vow to the ETERNAL your God, do not put off fulfilling it, for the ETERNAL your God will require it of you, and you will have incurred guilt; whereas you incur no guilt if you refrain from vowing. You must fulfil what has crossed your lips and perform what you have voluntarily vowed to the ETERNAL your God, having made the promise with your own mouth.”
Vows are taken very seriously by our tradition, to the point that there is a whole tractate in the Talmud called Nedarim — Vows. All kinds of promises, and all their consequences. Traditionally, Jews would use the expression bli neder — “without a vow” — when saying that they intended to do something, to avoid the halachic consequences of inadvertently making a vow.
And all these thoughts and ideas come together in the month of Elul, when we look back, think about what we have done, what we promised and didn’t do, and begin to make repairs.
Yes, a person can be released from a promise, if needed. Maimonides explains in the Mishneh Torah, in the laws of oaths, that if someone changes their mind about an oath, they must seek release from it before a sage or a court of three.
And then comes one of the most solemn nights of our Jewish year: the beginning of Yom Kippur and Kol Nidrei — “All the Vows”. We acknowledge that there are vows we should never have made, commitments we discover we cannot keep, words spoken by one version of ourselves that another version of ourselves may no longer be able to fulfil. Our tradition recognises our humanity: our words matter enormously, and yet sometimes we need the possibility of release, repair, and beginning again.
So, one year ago I came here before you and promised to give my heart and soul to being a good rabbi for you. I hope that, most of the time, I have been.
And now Elul gives me the opportunity not only to ask myself whether I have kept that promise, but to stand again before the community to whom I made it.
In the spirit of the season, I ask you to forgive me for the times when you may have felt that I failed to live up to that promise.
Most of all, tonight, standing here before you, I have to thank you. Thank you for teaching me, for giving me the opportunity to be part of your lives, for encouraging me to be fully who I am — as a person and as a rabbi. Thank you for partying with me, laughing and dancing with me, but also crying with me.
I will keep learning. I will keep trying to be the best version of myself for you.
One year ago, I stood here and made you a promise. Tonight, I make it again:
(sticky note) Lo tuchal lehit’alem.
I promise you that I won’t remain indifferent.
Thank you for calling me your rabbi.
Shabbat shalom.