The shul's leader David Brandes on the bimah[Missing Credit]
“On Kol Nidre, you can watch the sun set, and see Yom Kippur both begin and end through the roof,” says Peter Golds, a local Conservative councillor on the Isle of Dogs and a regular attendee since 2020. He learnt about the shul from a friend, and says he instantly felt at home there. “It’s a beacon for Jewish life in Tower Hamlets. The wonderful thing about it is that nobody asks who you are or what you believe. You’re made welcome, and everyone is invited to contribute as much or as little as they want.”
This informality is largely due to David’s leadership style. “I try to be relaxed in the way I deal with people. We don’t care about people’s sexuality, political views, or backgrounds,” he says. “Once they come through the door, they are part of our congregation. We welcome everyone – whether they’re the richest person in Stepney or the poorest.”
David, a former magistrate, who grew up and still lives a few minutes’ walk from the shul, has been involved with it for 50 years.
He puts on a regular kiddush and he and his wife Sandra frequently invite guests – particularly new synagogue attendees – back home for Shabbat lunch. There they keep pet parrots. One of them, a female named Joey, has taken to repeating: ‘Baruch, Amen, Baruch, Amen.’
In 2003, the then Chief Rabbi, Sir Jonathan Sacks, visited the Congregation of Jacob for its centenary celebration. He spoke about his early childhood on Commercial Road and then, to David’s surprise, made him an honorary reverend. “He said ‘For your service and dedication to the synagogue, I call you Reverend David,’” David recalls. “I had no idea it was coming.” Leon Goldman, 80, a retired university teacher, is currently the shul’s oldest living member. He has lived in Tower Hamlets all his life. “The changes here have been enormous,” he says. “I remember 70 years ago walking with my father to Aldgate on a Sunday morning. The streets were packed with Jewish men talking and socialising – hundreds of them. Now, there’s just a handful of us left.”
His connection to the synagogue began later in life. “I got married for the first time at 58,” he recalls. “I met my wife, who’s from St Petersburg, through a personal advertisement in Loot magazine. “She’s frummer than me and when she came over to visit on a fiancée’s visa, she wanted to go to a synagogue, and the Congregation of Jacob was the only one I knew of that was open. We got married there in 2007 – it was the first marriage the synagogue had seen in donkey’s years.”
He has stayed loyal to the shul because he appreciates its friendliness: “You can do things there that you can’t in other synagogues. For example, if David is standing on the bimah giving a talk, you can interrupt him with a comment – even heckle him in good humour!”
It was set up as an immigrant synagogue because British Jews who had been here longer didn’t want to mix with the newcomers
A hundred years ago, the Congregation of Jacob would have been packed to the rafters with 200 attendees every Shabbat. Now, it sometimes struggles to get a minyan – although this has been less of a problem in the past few years, since the pandemic. Peter jokes that he once had to “kidnap” a tourist to make up the numbers. “It was maariv and we realised we didn’t have enough men,” he remembers.
“Suddenly, there was a rattle at the door, and there stood a young man with his wife and sister. They were on a tour of the East End, visiting where their family had come from, when they noticed the synagogue and thought they’d take a look. I welcomed them in and then said, ‘We don’t have a minyan so you’re here to the end of the service, I’m afraid!’ By this time he was in my row, and I sat at the end so he couldn’t easily get out.”
Leon notes that there is a dearth of younger people, and many of the older regulars have passed away. “It’s a relatively new crowd now.”
But David remains optimistic about the future.
“We’ve got to do better at attracting younger people. I’m hoping being in the JC will help raise awareness and bring more people in.”
There are other challenges, such as the scourge of antisemitism, which has, like everywhere else, increased since October 7. David says the local police aren’t interested in protecting the synagogue. “They never come. But we don’t need them. We have good relationships with our neighbours, and the Muslims and the Christians around us would fight anyone who tried to harm us.”
Like so many of us, Peter worries about the future of Jews in this country. But for him, the synagogue is a beacon of hope. “It’s a haven of Jewishness in Tower Hamlets, and that’s so important in a world where Jewish life often feels under threat.”
He describes a poignant moment during the Kol Nidre service in 2023. “I was standing on the bimah, and I looked up to see a little girl gazing down from the ladies gallery, watching the visiting cantor. She was utterly captivated – entranced – and it was beautiful to see. Moments like that remind you of the importance of Jewish traditions.”
Why the Congregation of Jacob remains in existence, when so many other local synagogues have closed their doors, is largely down to David’s dedication and hard work. “My wife and I have spent a lot of our own money on renovations,” he says. “We’ve also received grants from organisations like English Heritage and the World Monuments Fund. The building was in a terrible state, but we managed to restore it. Next we’re planning to restore the benches. When they’re done and you walk through the door, it will be breathtaking.
“We may not be the wealthiest community, but our wealth lies in the people who come through our doors. They’re diamonds and jewels, and we value them accordingly.”
congregationofjacobsynagogue.org
