Stephen grew up and grew to love Tefillah, in the then-great Jewish community of Cardiff under the tutelage of Chazan Tzvi Finkelstein. He was at the Shul in Cardiff every morning, every evening, as well as four times a week for afternoon Cheder plus Shabbas club.
He certainly could sing,
but he wasn’t proud of this voice. He was proud of his command of Nusach and of
being an Ish Tefillah, a person entirely at home in the rhythms of our prayer tradition,
he learnt all that in Cardiff.
He moved to London, to study
at Jews College. but eventually just took a job as Chazan and got on with it.
He served as Chazan at Brixton, Hackney and ultimately – in this first chapter
of his cantorial career - Mill Hill. Alongside all that, he was a Youth worker
at Brady Maccabi, Victoria JLGB, Brighton and Hove Jewish Community Centre. He worked
for AJY and served as Executive Director of Jewish Child’s Day.[1]
The first chapter of Stephen’s communal life came to an end
because of sexuality. Stephen was gay and held that part of his life secretly
until the closeted existence became too much and Stephen left Mill Hill United
and the orthodox world.
For most of his time at New London Stephen never discussed his
sexuality, but he became, rightly, less concerned about people knowing. He was
proud to support New London as we also became more articulate about our welcome
of all, regardless of sexuality, and offering same-sex weddings. I’m not sure
those steps would have happened, at least not as smoothly, without Stephen
being, well … just being Stephen; gentle and forceful in equal measure, guiding
us along that journey.
In 2020, in the depths of that strange Covid year, Chazan
Stephen and Rabbi Roderick Young shared a conversation as part of our weekly
on-line Salon series in which Stephen spoke publicly about his sexuality – his live-in
boyfriend at the age of 35 which prompted his decision to tell his friends, Ike
and his mother.
I rewatched the recording of that Zoom yesterday – you can
find it on-line. [2] It
was an intensely moving moment and one that captured so much of the respect and
love we, as a community, have for Stephen. I’m getting ahead of the narrative a
little.
Having left Mill Hill, Jewish Child’s Day and all that, Stephen
started a kosher deli – boy, could Stephen cater! He always claimed he was only
a caterer and not a cook, but I’m not entirely sure I fully understand the
difference. I think it’s something like this – a cook can make tasty food for,
I don’t know, 6 people at a time and Stephen could make tasty food for 100
people at a time, fully budgeted, with all purchasing, peeling, cooking and
cleaning arranged like clockwork. But running a Deli wasn’t just about catering
and the Deli went, as Stephen would say, Mechula and Stephen – who loved to
drive almost as much as he loved to sing – turned to mini-cab driving.
Eventually, in the late 1990s, Stephen moved to West Hampstead
and started attending New London, then led, of course, by Rabbi Louis Jacobs and
also Chazan George Rothschild. I spoke with George a couple of days ago, he
wanted to share his condolences. New London was a different kind of place then.
Stephen told me attended services every week for seven months and no-one
offered him an Aliyah, let alone a chance to lead prayers. Eventually, on the
morning of Second Day Shavuot, he was called up for a Hagbah. “They only needed
me for my muscles,” Stephen would share, laughing at his own joke – as was his
wont.
In a talk given when Stephen retired for the first time, Stephen
Greene – the sixth Chair Chazan Stephen worked with in his time at New London,
put it like this,
“And from then the relationship
slowly grew and he was engaged, as headteacher and then as chazan – in 1999 – and
then as community director and then it was a full-blown full-time
relationship. And New London has grown
used to Stephen providing for it both spiritually and gastronomically. And now we are like an old married couple.”
Stephen was in a lot of old-married-couple relationships with all
kinds of people he was never, actually, married to. His beloved fifth Chairman among
them. Julian Dawes, our honorary musical director arranged composed for and
rehearsed Stephen for so many concerts and choral services – our Slihcot
evenings most especially. Stephen loved to sing these works but Julian is a
tough task-master, and Julian, you made him work. Ezer Knegdo – a help-mate
against him - Loving and bickering in almost equal measure – such things abounded
in Stephen’s life.
Stephen served New London through exceptionally challenging
times. Rabbi Jacobs had aged and New London was struggling to renew. As Louis
retired and Rabbi Chaim Weiner joined and as Chaim left and Louis came back and
as Rabbi Reuven Hammer served as interim – apart from the most important days
in the year when the Shul had an interim Rabbi Benji Siegel stepping in for the
interim Rabbi Hammer – Stephen was New London’s bedrock of continuity and
comfort. That’s a lot to carry, even on such mighty shoulders.
When he retired the first time from the position of Chazan at
New London, Stephen gave a speech based on numbers, there were the six chairs
he reported to, one God he davened to, and four Rabbis he worked alongside;
Louis, Chaim, Reuben and … me.
Shortly after I started at New London, he and I sat down to
plan my induction service. We had the idea of using some of the marriage
liturgy. It’s not a bad analogy for a relationship between clergy and
community. I mentioned a favourite couple of verses, from Hosea – Ve’erastich
Li.
“Do you know a tune?” I asked. “No” said Stephen, “Let me get
back to you.” Several chats later he sung me something he claimed to have
found. It was fabulous. It went into the service. It was only several weeks
afterwards I learnt that Stephen had written the piece specially, for me. I was
hugely touched. It was completely typical of the Chazan I miss so.
I’ve so many things to say about my relationship with Stephen
as a Chazan. He taught me so much. Let me share one small thing, one bigger.
In the very first days of Covid, when we - Rabbi Natasha, Stephen and I – made a
decision to lead daily prayer services, Stephen dropped round at my home - mask on of course – one of the two
large-print Siddurim we had at the locked-down Synagogue for me to use on Zoom.
It was only the next morning that I realised he had circled a particular vowel
I routinely got wrong. He never corrected me in public. He never even corrected
me in private. He just made sure I knew, so I could do better and I did.
And a big moment; every year we worked together, right at the end
of Yom Kippur would come the moment when I would finish the Neilah sermon and would
be done with my heavy lifting of the day. I would turn back from the Shtender
and take my position next to the table on the Bimah right next to Stephen we would
share a wry smile, or a nod of the head and then I would pull the Tallit over
my head and be carried through on Stephen’s coat-tails, tallis-tails, to the
end of the day. For me, having the best seat in the house for Neilah was the best
perk of the job. I think Stephen liked having me there – leading the communal
responses slightly off-key. I know he disliked me wandering off all over the
sanctuary the rest of the time. Sorry Stephen.
We all know Stephen’s voice, but I don’t know if we all
realise how hard he worked on the Bimah. I remember that last Yom Kippur Musaf,
a couple of years ago, when he had already retired for a second time, and this
time was struggling with cardiac health. But David was ill and Stephen stepped in
to lead Musaf. He looked ashen as he finished with a Chassidic Kaddish he normally
felt should only be offered at the end of Neilah, he could barely stand. “That’s
it, I’m done. You can get Alex to lead Neilah.” And he left. It was, I think,
the last service he ever led.
The amount of work Stephen put in from the Bimah was immense, not
just vocally, but practically, ensuring the right people were in the right
place at the right time, gesticulating, conducting, all the while leading prayers.
He loved the portmanteau ‘Bimah-craft.’ Stephen had sensational Bimah-craft. It
was the product of incredible professionalism, care and attention. I miss all
of that. I dislike being the person expected to know the answer because, now, I’m
the most experienced member of the clergy-team at New London. But most of all I
miss my Chavruta – partner in clerical crime. I’ll miss the chance to pop my
head around the door to his office, or welcome him into mine, to discuss a
pastoral challenge, an educational plan, a managerial challenge … anything
really. I miss the frogs, I even miss the humour – and Stephen’s sense of
humour was awful.
But in some way, I’m just another person who felt they had a
special relationship with Stephen – and there are hundreds, thousands even, of
us. I’ve been so touched to read the tales from members and strangers who’ve
reached out to me in the past days; young boys and girls, now adults who
Stephen taught for BM, young lovers, now old married couples for whom Stephen
sung under the Chuppah. Members who stood here, with Stephen at any one of the
many funerals he conducted with such dignity at this very spot, members who
appreciated the Nechamah he provided for others. I’m sad for us all, all
mourning together.
But for Stephen, the most special people, even given his love
for the community at New London and his chosen family, the most special people
were his mum, Miriam, and sister Susan. In 2012, Stephen left New London to go
back to Cardiff to be with his sister and mother. It was a remarkable act of
self-sacrifice – though he loved to lead the services at Penylan House Care Home.
He stayed in Cardiff for 6 years escorting both his sister and mother through
their last years with a dignity and a love that any sibling, and mother could
only wish for – Stephen was a heroic exemplar of what the rabbis call the
heaviest of all the Mitzvot, Kibud Eim.
And then, when Cantor Jason left New London, Stephen came back.
At that point he was tired and was talking about retirement even as he returned
to Abbey Road. But then Covid hit and I, we, really all of us, needed him
perhaps more than ever. Stephen stayed on through those dark times providing incredible
support and love on Zoom and from the ghostly sanctuary where he, Rabbi Natsha
and I would stream our services. He was a remarkable hero for our community
when we really needed the security of our prayer tradition.
After his second retirement, Stephen gave freely of his time, experience
and expertise to support Yoav and David on their cantorial journeys just beginning.
I feel so much of what Stephen valued in the amazing work of his successors. And
I know Stephen was proud to see the cantorial heritage of our community in such
good hands. And now he’s gone – and we’ll have to transform our relationship
with Stephen away from our personal interactions into memories and inspiration
drawn. Fortunately, there is so much to draw on.
Perhaps it’s the decision, in 2012 to leave New London to be
with his mum and sister that best exemplifies everything Stephen stood for; sounded
shocking at first, certainly not conventional – though if you stopped to think
a bit, and certainly if you stopped to listen Stephen explain, it more than
made sense. It was heroic in a simple way – decent, suffused with everything our
Mesorah stands for, and done unfussily and with complete commitment to the
decision he had made. It wasn’t that it was always easy to understand the decisions
Stephen made, around health particularly, but one always had the profound sense
that they were his decisions, his agency, his life lived his way. Frank
Sinatra would have approved. And so, I truly believe, would God.
HeChazan Yonah Ben
Chaim Yaakov u'Miriam, Zichrono L’Vrachah – May his memory always be a blessing.
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