How was it for you? Limmudniks reflect

With a more relaxed schedule over Friday and Saturday, and a chance to actually read the guidebook, it allows you time to catch your breath and contemplate.

This time I arrived frazzled on the Sunday, was informed that my key had gone missing, caught up with old friends, and launched into the chaos of conference.

First up, a talk by an Israeli reporter on whether broadcasters should be able to show emotion, followed by an analysis of the Jewish references in Dr Strangelove.

In the end I did not go to as many talks as I would have liked. Volunteering eats into your time, but, as compensation, you do find yourself part of a hundreds-strong group of twentysomethings, some of whom share your experience of running around in the freezing cold with hyper-active eight-year-olds.

And when you have a moment to spare, you find yourself arguing passionately about the two-state solution in a bar at three in the morning, or dancing at a rebbitzen disco.

Limmud peaks and ends in just a few days, but by the end you are half-happy, half-crazed, and convinced that you have been living in a bizarre alternate reality.

The Jackman-Overlanders
Ilana, Ben, Zeb (five) and Solly (three)

● There is something wonderful about seeing your kids skipping off to their own Limmud programmes every day. There is also something special about picking them up at the end of each day, to then take part as a family in Jewish song, storytelling and art activities.

Within Limmud's community of 2,500 people there are lots of smaller, more intimate communities. As a family, we loved being together with the 100 or so other young families in our own part of the campus.

Limmud is a place where children feel safe, free to explore and make new friends. The worries of normal life, the rule of "don't go too far", don't apply.

Parents keep an eye on each other's children, returning lost clothing and smiling supportively at other parents.

One of the many lovely things is that it is as much for the children as it is the adults. Most of the "star performers" run music sessions with the kids before playing to main conference.

And while the kids are in their programme, there are the abundant opportunities for parents to reconnect with their grown-up selves.

And we have to mention the babysitting. How many parents get to go out as a couple to a gig or the "pub" four nights in a row - at no extra cost?

We asked our children what they would tell other families about Limmud: "If you tell them about the disco, the story-telling, and the art table, they will definitely want to come."

Abigail Morris
Chief executive of the Jewish Museum

● I have almost impossibly high expectation of Limmud because it changed my life. Every year I approach the conference with trepidation. It can't be as good as I remembered. And then it is.

Every year I discover amazing new presenters. This year it was educator Gila Fine. She was dynamic, thought-provoking and moving. And it wasn't just me. As word spread, her sessions grew increasingly packed. The audience was engaged - their comments intelligent and generous.

Often, I find the sessions I go to start to form a theme. This year it was Maimonides and, pushed to the limits, was the question that if you can't say anything about God, you might not be able to have a relationship with God. Only at Limmud would I find myself in a room full of observant and non, rabbis and secular Jews openly questioning, arguing and being respectful. It is joyous.

Our three daughters have grown up as Limmudniks. We started going when the eldest was three. She's now 19 and a madrichah there. This year, the youngest was old enough to enjoy "night-club". I hardly saw my middle one, she was having too good a time.

My parents come too. A highlight was sitting in their room, drinking whisky and telling each other about the sessions we went to.

To say it changed my life is not an exaggeration. I used to be a theatre director. I was artistic director of Soho Theatre. Going to Limmud reaffirmed my commitment to Judaism to such an extent I gave up theatre to work in the Jewish community. So now, as chief executive of the Jewish Museum, going to Limmud is more of a continuation of my work and less of an escape.

This year, the Jewish Museum took up an exhibition and I led sessions on weddings, Abram Games, World War One and the East End. But the session I'm best known for leading, and which I love, is called Vyarutz Vyomer - he ran and he talked. This means early every morning I take a group of people running round the beautiful countryside.

This year, the weather was spectacular - frosty white grass, blue sky and a rising red sun. My fellow runners were different ages, sexes, religious denominations and nationalities but they were all stimulating and fun. Just like Limmud.

Jonathan Robinson
Limmud co-chair

● What a Limmud! Not just conference itself but the planning and hard work that started way back in January 2014.

I have had the most incredible time – working with such a dedicated, creative, inspiring and hard-working team who gave their all to putting on a conference to remember. Sometimes it was hard to remember that we all had full time jobs such was the time and effort we all put in.

Co-chairing this year has given me a unique insight as to how everything works: from seeing initial lists of hoped-for speakers all the way through to the planning and timetabling of the programme; seeing the course of a year's worth of hard work and planning come to fruition over a crazy, hectic week

From the moment the first participants registered on Friday until we said goodbye to the last bus on Thursday and packed everything back into the containers, it was wonderful to see full lectures, many with standing room only, and presenters being taken to task/questioned and challenged.

It was inspirational to see the amount of time many give to volunteering over conference, no matter how bizarre the job. Bars and restaurants buzzed with conversation and frivolity - swapping notes on the outstanding sessions of the day or just chatting schmoozing or singing. No doubt about it, it was a happy conference.

Now that it's over, I can look back with pride at what our team achieved. And it was without a doubt a team effort from day one. We all created something wonderful over the past week at Warwick and along with Shana my co chair it was an honour and a privilege to be given the opportunity to play my part.

Annika Hernroth-Rothstein
Political writer and conservative activist

● I was hesitant to go. I'm politically conservative and religiously Orthodox and from what I had heard it was in no place for people like me. However, my good friend and Limmud organiser Jonathan Neumann talked me into it, and I am glad he did.

As I watched droves of people flow into the Roots building, I started wondering what it was I had said yes to. All that trepidation disappeared during the Shabbat service and the dinner. Yes, it was packed with liberals and yes, it was scary but there was none of the animosity I had expected. Instead there was openness and a willingness to partake in debate. And boy, did they.

I gave four lectures and joined a panel on antisemitism. I was often infuriated, exasperated but never once did I regret going. The audiences cared enough about being there that they did not attend lectures to heckle or fight, but to learn and be inspired.

I learned as well. I learned that as a conservative and an Orthodox woman it is important to act as a shaliach and dare to walk roads less travelled, even if it's uncomfortable. I learned that Limmud contains intellectual curiosity, joy and Yiddishkeit. And, perhaps most importantly, I learned that grabbing an extra sandwich at the snack bar before every session is the difference between me discussing with the Yachad-crowd, or rowing with them.

Susy Stone
Akiva School headteacher

● My Limmud was a chance to learn from favourite teachers, to bring myself up to date on issues that interest me and to encounter some of my Jewish heroes.

My highlight this year was Ari Shavit. Having read his book My Promised Land I had high expectations, which he surpassed at his talk.

But my hopes that he might venture into Israeli politics were dashed by the revelation that his young second wife has proclaimed that he will enter the political arena only accompanied by his third wife.

As a veteran of the campaign for Soviet Jewry I delighted in a conversation between Natan Sharansky and former Prisoner of Zion Yosef Mendelevich, held as a tribute to campaign luminary Michael Sherbourne whose passing we mourned this year.

Next day I had to pinch myself to be sure that I was really chatting with Sharansky in the lunch queue.

Panel discussions ensured that I am now better informed about the extent of antisemitism in Britain, the impact of Jewish schooling, Jewish women in communal life and liberal Zionism.

Improvements this year include the programme app, the signage and the food. Frustrations? Breakfast with 2,000 people, my least favourite part of the experience.

Aaron Isaac
Member of Minim choir

● “Don’t go!” they insisted. “You’ll give credence to the other denominations. You’ll come back Reform.”

After years of procrastinating, and having summoned up a sizeable amount of courage in the face of scepticism from family and friends, I was finally going to Limmud. The stories about it were legendary: thousands of people from across the globe flocking to hear educators and performers of all denominations and none. I couldn’t wait to be a part of it.

Only a week before, Minim, a new young mixed, pluralist choir I had founded with Sophie Ross, had played to a packed house at JW3 with lots of positive feedback emerging.

Nothing could have prepared us for the reception at our performance at Limmud. They clapped, they stood, they yelled for more.

Other highlights for me included Rabbi Jeremy Lawrence’s fiery discourses on organ donation in halachah, Zoë Jacobs’ and Sarah Grabiner’s beautiful illuminations to the Shabbat service, Shir in concert, and most of all Rabbi Laura Janner-Klausner’s incredible session on informal education.

Low points were few and limited to minor things like the microscopic portions on the meat night, the shortness of the closing gala and a general lack of comedy.

I count myself as one of the lucky ones who has taken this unique opportunity to be immersed in a truly Jewish community for a week. I can’t wait to come back.

Fiona Sharpe
Member of Sussex Friends of Israel executive

● It was 10 years since I was last at Limmud. A lot has changed - the food (vastly improved), the location (another Midlands campus), I no longer had kids with me (at 18 & 21 they gave it a pass) and for the first time, I was a presenter, speaking on Jewish Grassroots Resistance: Standing up for Israel & Countering Antisemitism in the UK.

Walking into Warwick University had that familiar Limmud feel - lots of scurrying people, striding purposefully to sessions, groups of slightly tired looking attendees taking a breather over cups of coffee and the new Limmud app on their smartphones. Familiar faces, communal figures, lifelong Limmudniks and the Chief Rabbi, surrounded by his entourage, all rushing to get to the next session, in multiple directions.

The room for my session was bigger than I had imagined - an auditorium with four chairs on a stage. More people than I expected. On a panel of three people I was up first. I knew what I wanted to say, I think it went OK, supportive nods, encouraging smiles. My fellow presenters continued and added to the narrative of grassroots activism. Plenty of well-informed, interesting questions asked and answered.

And then it was over. Until next year.