We Will Not Hide Our Light
Rabbi Adrian M. Schell addresses the Wimbledon Synagogue community following the horrific knife attack on the streets of Golders Green. The fading surprise at such violence is perhaps the most terrifying reality of all. Our response cannot simply be to retreat behind higher fences.
Exploring Parashat Emor and its demand for "one standard for stranger and citizen alike" (Leviticus 24:22), Rabbi Schell confronts the normalisation of antisemitism in the UK. He unpacks the "canary in the coal mine" metaphor, reflects on the Home Secretary's recent statements, and highlights the vital need for a society that tackles hatred through education and the full force of the law. A Progressive Jewish response is not to shrink, but to act with spiritual defiance. We are still here, and we will not hide our light.
We Will Not Hide
Again! I found myself staring at the news alerts yesterday, feeling that familiar, heavy tightening in my chest. Another attack. This time, a knife on the streets of Golders Green. The shock is instinctive, but if I am brutally honest with myself, the surprise is fading. And that fading surprise is perhaps the most terrifying part of all.
In the wake of such violence, the immediate instinct is to build higher fences. As several of my rabbinic colleagues and the Board of Deputies rightly highlighted today, securing our buildings is vital for our immediate physical safety. Yet, we must recognise a painful truth. If our only response to antisemitism is to retreat behind fortified walls, we are slowly yielding to our own erasure from public life.
They Burned Our Ambulances, Not Our Resolve
On Monday morning, we woke to images that turn the stomach. Four ambulances, vehicles whose absolute sole purpose is to save lives, were reduced to charred, twisted metal in Golders Green. The shattered glass and the blackened frames speak of a profound, targeted hatred. To attack a Jewish volunteer emergency service is not simply an act of vandalism. It is an assault on the very principle of preserving human life. It is entirely natural to feel outrage, vulnerability and a deep, aching exhaustion when confronted with such blatant antisemitism on our streets. We are allowed to be angry. We are allowed to be horrified by this violation of our community's safety.
The Theft of Memory: Why the "Palestinian Jesus" Narrative is Antisemitism
From the billboards of New York City to the viral feeds of our social media, a troubling narrative has taken hold this holiday season. The claim that "Jesus was a Palestinian" is being repeated with increasing confidence, often framed as a gesture of solidarity with the oppressed. Yet, beneath this veneer of social justice lies a dangerous revival of an ancient hatred.
God is Not a Monster
How do we find a meaningful Jewish response to the Sydney terror attack? In this week's sermon on Parashat Mikeitz, Rabbi Adrian (Wimbledon Synagogue) challenges the idea that tragedy is part of a divine script. If we claim that everything happens for a reason, we risk portraying a "Puppeteer God" who is cruel. Instead, we explore why God is not a monster and how Jewish theology calls us to look for the Divine not in the tragedy itself, but in our absolute refusal to accept evil created by humans. This video explores the story of Joseph, the limits of human control, and how to maintain faith when the illusion of safety shatters.
May our light outshine their hatred.
It seems that all too often in recent years, just as we prepare to kindle the lights of a joyful festival, a shadow is cast over our celebration. The news from Sydney this morning is shocking, heartbreaking, and feels incredibly close to home, despite the distance. …
How Can We Rejoice? A Sukkot Message Two Years After October 7th
My sermon for Erev Sukkot addresses a direct and painful collision in the Jewish calendar: the beginning of 'z’man simchateinu', the season of our joy, falls on the exact second anniversary of the October 7th atrocities. It explores how the sukkah itself, with its flimsy walls and lesson in vulnerability, will not let us hide from this echo. This year, those walls are a stark reminder of the vulnerability imposed on so many. The sermon grapples with how we can possibly celebrate in the face of this memory, the ongoing hostage crisis, and the fresh grief from the recent antisemitic attack in Manchester. The message redefines Sukkot's joy not as a distraction, but as an act of defiance, resilience, and sacred memory—a way to honour those who no longer can, by choosing to build, gather, and sing because we remember.