In a world where fear, division and uncertainty dominate the news agenda, loveliness and joy are commodities to cherish more than ever. So when I recently stumbled across Shul for the Mind, a little enclave of pure positivity, it felt like something worth sharing here, particularly because it takes place in my own shul hall. The concept is simple: to create a Shabbat service (on a Sunday morning) for people living with dementia, who can no longer participate in a mainstream service, along with their families. The effect, however, is profound. Put simply, this unique congregation brings people back to life.
When I visit on a Sunday morning in June, the service begins with a joyous rendition of Yigdal followed by the Shema, led by Rabbi Dov Cowan on the guitar. Some join in with guileless gusto, others less so, but around the room little miracles take place, which co-founder Rebecca Corney brings to my attention. On the back row an elderly lady slightly slumped in her wheelchair joins in with the Shemah. Outside of this room she is non-verbal. There’s something about the familiarity of these tunes that enables her to find words again. Another woman’s eyes light up and as she sways along and sings the tune, her grandson captures this rare moment of lucidity on his phone.
I recognise the reflected joy in the young man’s face. When my late grandmother was in her eighties she started to forget who I was, who we all were and, in essence, who she was too. But hearing her maiden name, Patalowska, would make her bubble with laughter and occasionally ask if we knew Pabianice, the Polish city where she grew up. Those words would somehow cut through the fog and find her memories of girlhood. It brought my siblings and me no greater pleasure than to ignite that spark in our grandmother.
Around the room today I see that spark being triggered by the power of music and prayer, and that reflected joy in spouses, children and grandchildren. These familiar tunes and words from the siddur are often so deeply etched in the mind that they can ignite recognition, joy, and even passion, when so much else has faded away.
“We talk about time shifting in dementia,” explains Rebecca, who is a counselling psychologist by profession. “People time shift into a different zone.” And “ritual song”, she explains, is a powerful enabler. It’s exactly why Rebecca and Barbie Goldfoot (whose day job is at Women’s Aid and as a public-speaking coach) set up the congregation three years ago. Barbie’s mother, who has Alzheimer’s, was keen to still attend shul, but it was becoming too challenging. Rebecca explains: “Attending a typical Shabbat service can be overwhelming. Challenges with memory, attention, orientation, and sensory processing make long services and busy environments difficult to navigate.” Hence Shul for the Mind was born, where the needs of its congregants have been carefully considered and catered for, from the bespoke siddur with simplified text and visual aids to the calming environment. “Sensory sensitivity is prioritised, which helps reduce anxiety and allows participants to feel calm and welcome,” Rebecca explains.
Rebecca and Barbie’s hope is that the Shul for the Mind community continues to grow and becomes a hub for people living with dementia and their families across the Jewish community. “We’d love to welcome new faces at our Rosh Hashanah highlights service,” Barbie tells me, (which will take place at Finchley United Synagogue on September 6 at 11am). “Everyone is welcome and can just turn up – wherever you live or whatever shul you usually attend.”
In fact, the power of this congregation has reached beyond our own community. When Rebecca and Barbie recently presented the concept at an NHS dementia conference in Harrow, local churches and mosques were also inspired by the idea. They may change the words and tunes, and perhaps miss out the rugelach, but the concept is universal.
There aren’t as many studies on the power of a good kiddush, but we all know that those rugelach are an integral part of the shul package. In this community, the benefits of the kiddush are multi-layered. Those living with dementia certainly appreciate the food, but the opportunity for their spouses, children or carers to connect is not to be underestimated.
Of course the joy in the room is often laced with sadness too. “We’ve had another loss this week,” Rebecca tells me. In the three years since they started the community there have been many deaths, which the congregation mourns together. But today the service itself is a time for joy, expertly enabled by Rabbi Dov who sprinkles in Jewish jokes and words of inspiration. When tambourines are handed out, a young (at heart) woman in front of me in her early nineties starts to punch the air with a jingle. It’s a truly uplifting way to start a Sunday, making new memories for some, and for others connecting to old ones that are deep and indelible.
I’m reminded of another wonderful story I came across recently. For my 20th wedding anniversary I decided to get my marriage video digitised from DVD, which brought me to Paul Krisman, founder of reLOVE photos and also, as it just so happens, a nice Yiddishe fellow. What I was expecting to be a conversation about memory sticks and file sizes ended with me in tears: the good kind. Paul is in the memory business, he explained to me. And by turning clutter of old obsolete videos into accessible digital clips he brings the past back to life.
He tells me about a woman with dementia who struggles to recognise her own children and grandchildren and who recently saw footage of her late husband converted from cine film for the first time in decades. She instantly recognised him despite her faded mind and the many years since she had last heard his voice. Those memories of her husband switched something on in her, a buried piece of herself that her children rarely ever get to see, if only briefly while watching the screen.
Paul is full of these heartwarming anecdotes and has now officially partnered with the Alzheimer’s Society, which wants to help other dementia patients rediscover old footage and reconnect with forgotten memories.
Back in Kinloss on a Sunday morning, thinking back to those stories from Paul, I feel a moment of simplicity and clarity. When you strip everything away, life is about the memories we make.
For those whose minds are slowing, connecting to memories is what brings them back to who they are. So when there’s a choice to do or not to bother, to make the effort or to make an excuse, I make a mental note to bear that in mind: life is about collecting memories. Wishing you all a summer of making good ones.
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