THE PERFECT RABBI

(Plagiarised from Leeds Reform, translated from a Dutch newspaper, in turn translated from an Australian paper)

With apologies to feminists and female Rabbis Results of a computer survey show that the perfect Rabbi delivers a sermon of precisely fifteen minutes. He attacks sin, but makes sure no-one is upset.

He works from 8am to midnight, earns £100 per week, is smartly dressed, buys good books, drives a good car, gives £100 per week to charity, is 40 years old and has 30 year’s experience.

The Rabbi has a passionate desire to work with the youth and gives most attention to the older members of the community. He is always smiling, has a constant feeling for humour which helps him to remain serious in the role.

He visits daily fifteen families in the community plus prisoners and invalids in hospital. He spends his whole time trying to attract members from amongst the uncommitted Jews, and he is always in the office whenever needed.

If your Rabbi does not match these specifications, send this letter to six other communities who also lack a perfect Rabbi. Pack up your Rabbi and send him to the community at the top of the list. Within a week you will receive 1,643 Rabbis, of which one at least must be perfect.

Believe in this letter! One congregation broke the chain and received its old Rabbi back again within three months.

Iwas asked to phone Jan, a member of TLSE at the start of covid and enjoyed many conversations with him about a life stretching from Moscow to the peaceful Hertfordshire town of Buntingford. His grandson Josh Gray wrote the following eulogy.

Jan/Grandad was a wonderful man and had an impact on everyone he met, even one of his carers, who he affectionately called dragon, burst into tears upon the news of his death having only known him for 6 weeks. In the following days the outpouring of messages of support and memories from everyone showed how much he was loved. For him he looked at life as a bonus, a boy who shouldn’t have made it out of Europe in 1939. He was happy knowing that in his own words he’d “done alright”, considering he’d had such a start; he did more than alright.

Born in 1932 in Moscow to Helga Nomberg, he spent his early childhood in a Siberian camp only eventually being released because of his mother’s Polish passport. His father, a man he never knew, was a German politician cum journalist cum freedom fighter, exiled by both the Nazis and the Russians and killed due to his anti-fascist views. After escaping Siberia to Poland and on to

Austria he boarded the last train from Vienna to England, 3 days before war began.

Upon arrival to the UK, as most war time children, he was sent to boarding school. He loved that school and even at the very end was still in touch with friends he made there. He was a good student and was always learning more about everything he wanted to do. This ability to learn probably explains the array of jobs he had throughout his life. Both handy and entrepreneurial, he was an electrician and a steeplejack before eventually joining his mother in London in the “rag trade”. He would talk about making deals from off cuttings and working up to running his own factory. There, he designed and made dresses, including his darling wife’s wedding dress ‘just like Princess Margaret’s’ before finally selling children’s clothes across London markets.

He met his beloved Estelle at a dance at the Astoria in London in the 50’s. I don’t think he could have predicted then that he would have met his match, a woman fierce enough to bring in line this central London lothario, with his heat lamp tan and his partying wrestler friends. They would spend the rest of their lives together, building a loving family around them and moving out of London to settle down in Buntingford. There, the house was open, and anyone who walked in was offered a full meal, a cup of tea, squash, coffee, cake, whatever you liked.

For Grandad, Buntingford meant space and space meant gardening, eventually growing to three greenhouse and three allotments, and a garage and a bedroom all covered with plants seeding, growing, and ripening He had a full blown eco system that blossomed all year round with flowers for every occasion and enough fruit and veg to feed all the children coming round to eat them out of house and home.

In his later years the garden would become his source of pride, every plant carefully curated and maintained over the years and the work never stopped he was always out there even as his eyes and strength started to wane. His final addition a Rose Garden dedicated to his late wife given pride of place at the front of the house with colored roses picked by all the family.

He always wanted what was best for his family and almost stubbornly lived long enough to make sure everyone that he had spent his whole life looking after was happy and would be fine once he was gone. Whether that was a wedding, tossing his stick aside to twist in the center of the dancefloor or ensuring your first house was up to snuff, or supporting you in your adventures abroad or throughout school. He went the extra mile to look after everyone he loved.

He will be greatly missed especially by those closest to him, his daughters Janine and Julie, their husbands Marc and Dan and his three grandchildren, myself, Zach, and Sienna.

A few days ago, he asked what we would put on his headstone. We discussed a few options, and he came up with ‘I had a good life’, which I think sums him up. Positive, courageous, comforting, and grateful for everything life gave him. He is now back with his beloved Estelle; the kettle is on, and the flowers are blooming.

Has anyone read any Jewish themed or related books they would like to review for the magazine, either ction or non- ction? Are there any members interested in forming a Book Club, physical or virtual.

If so please contact Hakoleditor@tlse.org.uk or 020 8953 2912