Traces of Jewish life in the verdant hills and valleys of South Wales

Photos: Mendel photography

Drive across the Prince of Wales Bridge, read the signs marked with a red Welsh dragon, and you know you’ve moved from England to Wales, another small country in the British Isles known for both its beautiful coastline and its industrial muscle in supplying coal, steel, and slate to the world. The green valleys of South Wales once had another defining feature: They hosted scores of Jewish communities, which today have virtually disappeared.

In the capital city of Cardiff, we’re standing in front of an old cathedral-style building, where we spot the familiar pasuk above the doorway ,“Ki beisi beis tefillah… For My House is a house of prayer...” This is the Cathedral Road synagogue, founded in 1896 and a mainstay of the Jewish community that once thrived here in small independent kehillos dotting the verdant valleys of this land. And as we stand here, we wonder: Why did their ancestors come here, and why did their progeny leave?

We hope our guide, fifth-generation Jewish Welshman Adrian Jacobs, will solve the mystery.

No Arguments

While the date traditionally given for the first Jewish settlement in Cardiff is 1787, this glorious shul was built once the community became affluent enough for an ornate building of their own. In its heyday, Cardiff was home to around 5,000 Jewish people, says Mr. Adrian Jacobs, who grew up in the city. The rav, Rabbi (Mordechai Dov) Ber Rogosnitzky, a Leipzig-born talmid of the great Telshe yeshivah, lived right around the corner, on Hamilton Road.

“The greatest Jewish influence on my life was Rabbi Rogosnitzky,” says Mr. Jacobs of the distinguished European rav who led Jewish life and education in the town from 1945, when his father, the previous rav, passed away, until his own petirah in 1985. As a teenager, Mr. Jacobs — one of hundreds of kids in the kehillah’s youth group — would help the rabbi to don his formal minister’s attire in the shul’s “robing room.” The Rav learned with him several times a week, and once asked Adrian to drive him to carry out a surprise visit to check up on the town’s shochtim.

Mrs. Gigi Hollander of London, Rav Rogosnitzky’s daughter, shares memories of her own childhood in the Welsh capital. “My father was the mara d’asra of Cardiff and the de facto rav of all the Welsh kehillos. Everyone was very respectful of him — Welsh gentiles were still exceptionally religious at that time, and the Jews of his community accepted his psak as law.”

Rabbi Rogosnitzky was responsible for everything, from Jewish education to shechitah and kashrus, mikvaos, marriages, and gittin, and also represented the community to the government and at all state occasions. “He was invited to the investiture of His Royal Highness Prince Charles as Prince of Wales and I remember coming home from Gateshead Sem to attend a Royal Garden Party where my father was presented to the Queen. She would always bow her head to him in respect. Of the rabbis scattered in communities throughout the United Kingdom, my father was the only one whom Dayan Yechezkel Abramsky, av beis din of London, allowed to issue his own gittin.”

Despite the acceptance of Rav Rogosnitzky’s authority, for him and his family, adjusting to life in out-of-the-way Wales — where many in the community were unlearned laymen — had its own challenges. Mrs. Hollander relates how her father used to stay up late at night learning. At one point toward the beginning of his tenure, the hiring committee met to decide whether or not they should give the rabbi a raise of one pound a week. One member of the board said, “I’ve seen the lights on in the house half the night. They’re obviously wasting electricity and should not be given an increase in salary.”

The entire kehillah followed him, though, even though Rabbi Rogosnitzky was famed for his uncompromising stance against the Reform elements in Wales. No one associated with Reform could receive an aliyah in Cardiff’s Orthodox shuls, and he refused to attend joint events with Reform clergy. Mrs. Hollander says she can’t recall anyone ever calling her father’s bluff on this.

“He was the rabbi of Wales,” she says, “and the other elements would always stand down.”

Cardiff was known as a balabatish community, with several wealthy and generous families. Rabbanim from near and far came to the town to collect money, and they usually stayed at the rav’s house.

“I remember the Ponevezher Rav giving me a brachah,” says Mrs. Hollander, “and all the roshei yeshivah from Gateshead and Sunderland staying in our home. It was a challenge for my mother as there were limited kosher products available, and she had to cook from scratch for all the guests.”

Rabbi Rogosnitzky created a system that allowed only one institution to collect in Cardiff each month. He knew everyone would benefit from it — the balabatim would not grow tired of the solicitors and would donate willingly to each cause. When a meshulach arrived, the rav would accompany him to each of the Jewish businesses and homes, so that people would donate nicely. The most well-known donors were the Sherman brothers, famed Jewish philanthropists who dedicated the Ponevezh yeshivah’s otzar seforim, and owners of the third-biggest football pools (soccer betting) business in the UK (which they sold in the 1960s for £11.5 million).