I Went to the First French Service at a London Synagogue

FYI.

This story is over 5 years old.

Identity

I Went to the First French Service at a London Synagogue

I went to find out if the influx of French Jews in London is linked to antisemitism and terrorism in France.

The writer and friend attending the first French service at St John's Wood synagogue. All photos Dexter Lander.

The Friday night shabbat service is the the busiest time of the week for synagogues. It is to Jews what Sunday mornings are for church-going Christians or Monday mornings are to feelings of suffocating futility.

Traditionally, these services have been in Hebrew, although many reform synagogues now perform parts of the service in English, but on Friday night, one of London's most progressive reform synagogues, the Liberal Jewish Synagogue in St. John's Wood, began hosting "trilingual Sabbath evening services" in English, Hebrew, and French.

Advertisement

In some ways this is not surprising. There are an estimated 300,000 French nationals living in Greater London. Parisians, in particular, are flocking to areas like Kensal Rise, Kentish Town, and Peckham. You can barely swing a braid of garlic on Rye Lane without disturbing a French art student's cigarette break.

But some believe the rising number of French Jews in the UK outstrips other French immigrants. A number of rabbis have reported a sharp increase in the number of French nationals attending their services in London. Speaking to Newsweek, Marc Mayer, the chairman of the Hendon United synagogue, said that French Jewish children now make up around 50 percent of the incoming students to London's Jewish schools.

Many believe the increasing number of Jews in London is a result of the terror attacks that took place in Paris last year, including an attack on a Jewish supermarket where four men were killed. Others have argued it is simply the result of rising antisemitism in the French state. Last year there were attacks on Jews in parks, schools, and on the Metro in Paris as well as reports of synagogues being torched. The number of anti-semitic attacks was up by around 84 percent on 2014.

It's not clear whether either terrorism or antisemitism is behind the rise, and there has been little in the way of polls or research that suggests French Jews feel safer in London than they do at home. So I went down to the service on Friday night, partly to speak to French Jewish immigrants and ask them about their own feelings but also because I'm French and Jewish and wanted to see what the vibe was.

Advertisement

Security was tight; before being allowed entry, we had our bags checked repeatedly by gate security. They even had those crazy air-lock doors you see in banks. Perhaps that would have put some people on edge but I was more concerned with my usual bout of kippah panic. All men are required to wear one while in synagogue, but mine always looks so floppy and unstylish in comparison to some of the colorful woven varieties offered from the communal Kippah bowl.

Once inside, we were given the option of prayer books in either French or English, guided through the gilded golden doors into the temple and, bizarrely, sat in the "press section"—about 15 seats with white sheets of paper as place markers. Apparently the first French shabbat was a hot ticket.

The first thing I noticed as people began filtering into the space was: these are definitely not French people. The majority of the 80 or so members of the shul in attendance were as British as Branston Pickle—navy blue blazers and tartan trousers—that kinda thing. It felt just like your average Friday services, until the head honcho, (monsieur) Rabbi Rene Pferzel, took center stage and began reading from the torah in perfect French.

French Rabbi Pferzel

Pferzel delivered the goods, making sure to reference separate pages for the English and French speakers in their individual Siddurs (the Jewish prayer book). He was accompanied by a particularly rad pianist running through all the Sabbath hits (I thought their rendition of Lecha Dodi was especially bitchin') and I definitely spotted loads of toe-tappers among the crowd. But mostly it was business as usual.

Advertisement

It was only when the Rabbi came to his closing speech that the significance of the service became clear. Pferzel was not afraid to openly acknowledge the uncomfortable realities facing Jewish communities on a day-to-day basis, and in particular what a bad year 2015 has been for Jews in France, speaking frankly about antisemitism and the need for Jews to feel secure. But he's a rabbi, so he approached this with positivity and a few bad jokes, reminding the congregation that Jews should not be afraid of their heritage, and that the media has sensationalized the degree to which French Jews are migrating to cities like London.

We tried to corner Rabbi Pferzel for a few questions after the service but it wasn't easy—he was the Axl Rose of that 'gogue. We finally managed to get him alone and he explained that as a "traveling rabbi" he has gained so much culturally; he divides his time between Lyon and London, and has worked in other countries across Europe since the 1980s.

"We all want to integrate, but at the same time we want to retain our identity from home," he told me. "I think it's interesting for people to be able to come and discuss being Jewish in their mother tongue, and just a nice thing to be able to provide." Pferzel says he doesn't believe that anti-Semitism is a driving force behind mass migration into the UK. Those fearing their safety, he believes, are more likely to have fled to Israel. So why does he honestly think Jews are really leaving France and coming to London? "Oh nothing could be more Jewish," he jokes: "lower taxes."

Advertisement

I asked the Rabbi whether he thought there were any noticeable differences between Jews of French and English origin. "In England, Jewish people like to have a Christmas tree…this would never happen in France."

All the remained of the kiddush food after a few minutes.

After a quick round of Shabbat shaloms, it was time for the Kiddush, a kind of pre-game snacking which takes place before most families go home and have Friday night dinner. Usually you're looking at some stale Challah bread and maybe some sort of tinned fish but man, this was a particularly good spread—a Tunisian mezze buffet to ring in the day of rest.

With the Manischewitz flowing freely, we got a chance to catch up with some of the night's other patrons.

First up was Miriam Kramer, a chair from the European Union of Progressive Judaism. Language is a big deal to Miriam—aside from being a chief organizer in tonight's events, the LJS will be hosting a multilingual Shabbat in April at her behest, with services being translated into twelve other languages. Her motivations for this are pretty pragmatic. "There's an influx of French Jews in London, and therefore, why not? If hosting Shabbat in French means more liberal Jews from abroad are able to publicly partake in their faith, then that can only be good." Like Pferzel, she doesn't believe there is a pandemic of people leaving cities in France out of fear, and actively discourages this viewpoint from being represented.

Sasha and Karlin

We were desperate to speak to some recent French arrivals, but there simply weren't very many there. We did chat to a couple, Sasha and Karlin, who migrated from Paris and Switzerland respectively to London, seven years earlier, having found that there were more opportunities available for them within the UK than back on the mainland. Their "Jewishness" has not changed at all, and was not a contributing factor in any decisions to move. Despite this, Karlin would never put her faith on show: "to be honest once in a while I'm on the train going into work and I see someone wearing a Kippah and I think, WOW. After the events this year in Paris, I consider them everyday heroes." Her view seemed to be that Jews in 2016 have the tendency to feel more uncomfortable in general; whether they live in London or Paris or Berlin is actually incidental.

It seems that there is a bit of a myth that London is now providing a safe haven for thousands of terrified French Jews. No one is denying that horrible things have happened to Jews in France recently, but what happened here tonight seems more about promoting cultural unity than it is about providing security. That doesn't mean it's not important, it's only in sharing in the struggles of Jews around the world that the community can stand together as threats. Also that mezze was to die for.