Paper by Rabbi Raymond Apple presented at the conference, The German Rabbinate Abroad: Transferring German-Jewish Modernity into the World?, Munich, Germany, Oct. 18-21, 2009. (Subsequently published in European Judaism, Vol. 45, No. 2, Autumn 2012.)
For a long period Australia was a British colonial offshoot and its Jewish community followed the dictates of the Chief Rabbi of Britain, Nathan Marcus Adler, who, with his son and successor Hermann Adler, brought the German rabbinic outlook to his religious leadership. Over the decades many Australian ministers (not all were fully qualified rabbis) were German or trained in the German rabbinic style, though there was often an anti-German reaction on the part of Eastern European rabbis and laymen. Though many of the ministers were quintessentially British, they were mostly trained under German Jewish scholars at Jews’ College in London and displayed the German synthesis of Jewish and Western culture. Since the Second World War Australian Jewry has changed radically both as a result of post-Holocaust immigration and because of the growing diversity of the community. There is a strong Eastern European flavour and the British chief rabbinate is no longer the community’s automatic authority.
The first Jews in Australia were convicts transported by the British government on the First Fleet in 1787, arriving in Botany Bay in January, 1788. None of these Jews was particularly religious; hardly any knew any Hebrew; but they probably recognised each other from the “Jewish” streets of London. They did not come together as a community or hold any form of Jewish worship until 1803, when prayers were recited for Joseph Samuel, a Jew who was about to be executed. The first organised community activity was in about 1817, when Jewish convicts were sought out by Joseph Marcus, himself a former convict. In his youth Marcus had been a yeshivah (Talmudical college) student, though he was neither a rabbi nor, despite the view of a Christian contemporary, “Australia’s only acknowledged Levite”. He had come from Germany via England and spoke English with a German accent, but our story does not start with him but some years later.
The story does not actually begin until half a century after the First Fleet, though in his latter years (he died in 1828) Marcus held occasional prayer meetings and sometimes even conducted burials. In the year of Marcus’ death, the true founding father of Australian Jewry emerged. He was Phillip Joseph Cohen, a 25–year-old Londoner who came as a free settler bearing credentials from the British chief rabbi allowing him to conduct Jewish ceremonies. A congregation gathered around Cohen and before long there was a second, rival group who resented what they regarded as Cohen’s pretensions. The split was more or less healed in 1830 by Aaron Levy, a dayyan (judge) of the London Beth Din, who undertook the long voyage to Australia to arrange a religious divorce between a woman in London and her convict husband in New South Wales. In 1831 the small Jewish congregation was officially recognised by the colonial authorities, but at this stage there was no particularly “German” influence, nor even a British one, except insofar as Chief Rabbi Solomon Hirschell had surprised himself by realising that there were now Jews in the Antipodes, though he was perplexed at the fact that they were mostly petty criminals.
If we are interested in a “German” ethos, what we must look for is not geographical or political associations but a “German” ideology which would interface the forces of Judaism and modernity. In Germany itself the symbiosis took various forms until the philosopher Hermann Cohen solemnly wrote about a consonance between German and Jewish ideals.
In Australia, however, we see no discussion of ideology, merely a frantic need for self-preservation. Not religious self-preservation: that was too much to ask, but sheer physical and to some extent economic survival.
If there was any ideology it was far from grandiose or visionary. The Jewish convicts had no thought of pioneering a new world. In England they had lived on their wits on the fringes of society. In Australia even some of the officers and soldiers were likewise uncertain about whether they wanted to be there. Australia was Britain’s reluctant colony, and Australian Jews were the reluctant colony of Anglo-Jewry. They had mixed feelings about the old country. Many did not even greatly miss the families (even the wives) they had left behind. Their thoughts about “home” gave nostalgia a bad name. Most of the Jewish convicts were from London and had fleeting memories of the Thames and The Times, but only the Thames aroused any sentiment because they knew it so well. The thought of The Times recalled how far apart the lower classes were from the upper crust who read the paper. The Jewish convicts had little contact with The Times or any other paper, although, unlike most of their fellow convicts, some of the Jews had a degree of literacy.
Convict transportation continued until mid-century, with the population diversifying with the arrival of free settlers. Over the decades about 1,000 Jews came as convicts, though by modern standards they were not a seriously criminal element. In convict society there was widespread resentment of religion, which was seen as part of the system of control: Christian chaplains were magistrates more than moral and spiritual leaders, and church parades were disciplinary measures more than acts of worship. Amongst the Jewish convicts there was little love of Judaism, only a feeling of indifference, since religion had played little part in their lives in England and few had even had a pretence at a Bar-Mitzvah. Yet somehow they had enough Jewish ethnic feeling to absent themselves from Christian church parades, though they were punished in consequence.
There were no Jewish ministers or teachers, not even semi-learned men such as Joseph Marcus. The earliest rabbinic presence was Rabbi Aaron Levy. No-one has yet fully analysed the impact of Levy’s visit and investigated whether he had much influence on the Jewish convicts and ex-convicts. Some of the latter did not even own up to their convict background. Indeed, by the mid-1840s, when the Sydney Synagogue wanted to present itself as respectable in character and origins, its committee produced a written report which deliberately distorted history by failing to acknowledge the convict past of many of the congregational committee.
Yet the report had a modicum of Jewish vision, speaking of the need to educate the youth in the Jewish tradition. One result was the emergence of the Sydney rabbinate as both a direct and an indirect offshoot of the German rabbinate. But first we must record the arrival in 1835 of the first “minister”, Reverend (the title was a mere courtesy) Michael Rose. He had enough Hebrew to lead basic prayers, though he could neither preach nor teach, and the shipping records call him a dealer. He stayed in Australia from 1835 to 1838, when he moved on to Madras, India. Melbourne, with a congregation founded in 1841, fared better under the leadership of Asher Hymen Hart, a knowledgeable layman who even came with a Jewish library, though his books were destroyed in a fire. Like Michael Rose, Hart was reader rather than rabbi, but he clearly had more Hebraic competence than Rose. He was both president and spiritual leader of the Melbourne Hebrew Congregation. He made money in Australia and retired to London in 1854.
After Solomon Hirschell’s death in 1842, the new chief rabbi of London was a German Rabbiner from Hanover, Nathan Marcus Adler, the first British chief rabbi to hold a university degree. Hirschell had been colloquially known as “Doctor” but the title was imaginary: he had neither a university education nor much secular knowledge, and though born in London during the rabbinic incumbency of his father Hart Lyon (Hirschel Levin), who was later rabbi of Berlin, Hirschell could hardly speak English, and when he preached it was generally in Yiddish.
One of Adler’s early initiatives was a questionnaire, sent to congregations throughout the British Empire, followed by regulations to govern synagogue procedures. At the same time, even before creating Jews’ College in 1855 as a day school and ministers’ training college, Adler determined that ministers must be competent not only to officiate but to preach and be spiritual leaders. His philosophy would today be called modern orthodoxy; this policy set the tone for Judaism in all British countries, though today the communal religious spectrum is much broader.
Adler supported neither the radicalism of German reform nor Moses Sofer’s ultra-orthodox rejection of modernity. More diplomatic than his predecessor, he engaged in active polemics with the reform synagogue established in 1841 by dissenters who mostly emanated from the London Sephardi community.
He recommended to Australia another Rabbiner, Dr Hermann Hoelzel, formerly of the Hambro’ Synagogue in the City of London. Hoelzel might have become the Adler of Australian Jewry had he lasted. But he was an egotist, and he had a fragile relationship with his congregation in Hobart, Tasmania, and subsequently at the York Street Synagogue in Sydney.
It took Hobart and Sydney many years to get over the Hoelzel experience. Hobart never again had a minister who was a university graduate, not for ideological reasons but because the congregation dwindled and nearly died. Long afterwards they did briefly have a minister with a German background, Rev. George Ruben, but that was because it was a time of German refugee immigration and some of those who revived the congregation were themselves refugees from Germany.
In Sydney the York Street Synagogue suffered an internal split in 1859, and for nearly 20 years there was a rival synagogue in Macquarie Street. Both congregations had a series of short-term ministers until Rev. Alexander Barnard Davis, a quintessential Englishman, was appointed to York Street in 1862 and restored peace to the community. Davis united the two congregations in the impressive Great Synagogue, opened in 1878 and still functioning. He created what might be called Minhag Australia, a version of Minhag Anglia, which was ostensibly English but owed much to the German models utilised by Nathan Marcus Adler.
Davis was one of a group of Jewish clerics who were the antipodean equivalent of the German Rabbiner, though they bore the title of “Reverend” and often lacked both the scholarship of the Rabbiner and the learning of the Eastern European rabbi. The gentile public respected Davis and called him “Rabbi”, but his lack of Talmudic learning brought him criticism from orthodox immigrants – including one or two Eastern European rabbis – and Adler refused to let him make halachic (legal) decisions (for example in regard to conversions to Judaism) without reference to London.
In Davis’ time, and in contrast to Sydney, Melbourne gained several German ministers. There was the brief incumbency at the Melbourne Hebrew Congregation of Dr Dattner Jacobson, the possessor of a relatively broad knowledge of rabbinic and general Jewish literature, but he was a controversial character, and after suddenly starting a reform congregation he left for America, where he eventually became fully reform. From 1883 until 1919 his Melbourne pulpit was occupied with distinction by Dr Joseph Abrahams, an Englishman with a German doctorate and a solid rabbinic education. He stayed for many years, married the daughter of Davis, his Sydney colleague, and was a candidate for the British chief rabbinate after Hermann Adler died in 1911.
Contemporary with Abrahams was Rev. Elias Blaubaum, a German minister who spent three decades at the St. Kilda Synagogue, whose founders, mostly from Germany, had deliberately sought out a German whose orthodoxy was mild enough to fit the easy-going Australian background. The German-speaking Blaubaum learned English so well that he edited the community’s English-language newspaper, The Jewish Herald. His Jewish learning must have been sufficient for him to be acceptable as a member of the Melbourne Beth Din headed by Abrahams.
Apart from Melbourne and St. Kilda, there was a third congregation – the East Melbourne Hebrew Congregation, the “Polish Shool”, passionately orthodox, constantly quarrelsome and visibly Eastern European. Although for a while it had an Australian-born minister, Isidore Myers, who married Dattner Jacobson’s daughter, it came into its own with the appointment of Jacob Lenzer, a Russian cantor who also learned English “on the job” and became a powerful preacher as well as an accomplished chazan. Lenzer and East Melbourne exemplified a trend that came to the fore a number of times in Australia – the Eastern European reaction to “Germanism” which became an ethnic divide in the community.
Most Australian congregations deferred to the chief rabbi in London when they needed ministers or advice. Nathan Marcus Adler was succeeded as chief rabbi by his son Hermann, born in Germany but educated in England and the holder of a German doctoral degree. Their system of central ecclesiastical control was called by its detractors “Adlerism”. The criticism had some validity, but their great achievement was the creation of a rabbinic type, the Anglo-Jewish minister, modelled on the German Rabbiner: erudite though not marked by deep Talmudical learning. Two leading Australian ministers in this mould were Francis Lyon Cohen in Sydney and Jacob Danglow at St Kilda. Both knew German but were British patriots whose Englishness was visible and palpable. Both had lengthy incumbencies in Australia and were highly regarded public figures. Neither was sympathetic towards political Zionism.
Both were products of Jews’ College in London where their teachers, headed by Dr Michael Friedlander, were German Jewish scholars. The Eastern European newcomers followed the rule of kab’dehu v’chashdehu, “respect him but suspect him”. They regarded Cohen as aloof and unsympathetic; they called Danglow “Anglo-Danglow” and said that when he shortened his name from Danglowitz he lost his wits. Though officially orthodox, Cohen and Danglow were both rather elastic in their observance.
At the Melbourne Hebrew Congregation Rabbi Israel Brodie, later the chief rabbi of Britain, was another Jews’ College graduate who espoused Minhag Anglia. His orthodoxy was deeper than Cohen’s and Danglow’s. When Brodie left in 1938 Danglow became temporary chairman of the Melbourne Beth Din, not without strong criticism from Rabbi JL Gurewicz, an Eastern European Talmudist – again an Eastern European challenge to English and German mores. When another British appointee, Rabbi Dr Harry Freedman, arrived, Gurewicz established a rival Beth Din which did not always see eye-to-eye with the official Beth Din now headed by Freedman.
A profound change came to Australian Jewry by reason of the impact of Nazism. Until the 1930s Australia was still a distant outpost of the British Empire with little interest – among non-Jews as well as Jews – in culture or religion. Australia’s Jews knew they were on the fringes of the Jewish world and felt they could afford to avoid any major responsibility for the future of Judaism. Their Jewish apathy and ignorance were palpable. They mostly followed the relaxed orthodoxy of Anglo-Jewry, with a Judaism that was more relaxed than orthodox, though there was a rather small “foreign” (mostly eastern European) element that was passionate about Judaism. Australian Jews were never more than half a per cent of the population, and especially in the 1920s there was a serious problem of intermarriage and assimilation. But Australia had the advantage of being far away from Europe, and at the Evian conference in 1938 it undertook to accept a few thousand refugees, mostly Jewish, and the Jewish refugees made a major contribution to the Australian war effort.
A few Judaic scholars arrived in Australia in the 1930s, but some never quite found a niche. Dr Samuel Billigheimer, a philosopher and poet, became a language teacher and taught for the United Jewish Education Board. He had been principal of the Lehrhaus in Mannheim and endeavoured with limited success to bring Jewish adult education to Melbourne. Though many people never quite understood him, he had become a beloved sage – revered especially by the university students – by the time he died in his 90s. Dr Maurice David Goldman, an extraordinary linguist who had taught at the rabbinical seminary in Berlin, arrived in 1938 and in 1945 became Professor of Semitic Studies at Melbourne University.
Several orthodox rabbis were sent to Australia on the “Dunera” because Britain thought they were enemy aliens. Amongst them, Rabbi Dr Hirsch Jacob Zimmels returned to England and was later principal of Jews’ College. Rabbi Dr Jona Ernest Ehrentreu and Rabbi Dr Hans Elchanan Blumenthal stayed in Australia for a while, endeavouring to build up orthodoxy, but they later moved elsewhere. Like Billigheimer they found Australia to be a pleasant, peaceful place, but they too discovered that the Jewish community had little time for the German Jewish (or any other) ideology.
German Judaism strengthened the official rabbinate at this period, both within orthodoxy and in the emergent reform movement. The two largest orthodox congregations in Sydney, the Great Synagogue and the Central Synagogue, gained German rabbis – at the Great, Rabbi Dr Israel Porush, who remained for over 30 years and was the uncrowned chief rabbi of Australia; and a little later Rabbi Dr Eliezer Berkovits at the Central. Berkovits moved to the US and became a famous Jewish philosopher and writer. He eventually retired to Jerusalem.
The North Shore Synagogue, which was founded in 1940 and grew dramatically in the post-war years, gained a German minister in the person of Rev. William Katz, who held office for two decades and revived German liturgical traditions for his then largely refugee congregants. In Adelaide, South Australia, the community (which already had a German cantor, Rev. Abram Bermann) appointed as its rabbi Dr Alfred Fabian, an alumnus of Breslau, who later moved to Brisbane in Queensland and ended his career in Sydney at the North Shore Synagogue. Though a German rabbi he became a representative figure in the Australian rabbinate and was senior rabbi to the Australian Defence Force.
Temple Beth Israel, the Melbourne liberal congregation, had undergone several false starts in the 1930s with its early appointees from America, but struck gold in the appointment of Rabbi Dr Herman Max Sanger, a cultured, handsome, eloquent German liberal rabbi who gave firm leadership for four decades. In Sydney the first liberal appointee had been Rabbi Max Schenk from the US, who was succeeded by Rabbi Dr Rudolph Brasch, born in Berlin of British parents; he remained for 30 years and became a high-profile national figure and prolific author.
Historians need to investigate whether these rabbis and their congregations had misgivings about each other. Where there were congregants from Germany they coped easily with incumbents who brought a familiar style and approach. With Porush and Berkovits the German background was by now somewhat muted, since both had served synagogues in England after leaving Germany (Porush was actually not of German origin since he had been born in Jerusalem and came to Germany as a student).
Though the ethos of British and German Jews was relatively similar, the expectations of the rabbi in English-speaking countries differed from the German model, especially in emphasising liturgical and pastoral work rather than intellectuality. But both made their peace with what they found in Britain and its Australian offshoot.
Did the German rabbis aspire to remake Australian Jewry along the lines they had known in Germany? Possibly, but they were realists and recognised that what they were used to had been blown up by Nazism and probably could never be put together again.
In addition, rabbis were better off than other groups in that they did not need to struggle as middle-aged men to find a place in their profession (medicine, law, etc.) but could work as rabbis without having to re-train. The contrast with doctors and lawyers is instructive: many refugee doctors had to requalify in Australia and some proved to be greater experts than the examining boards; some lawyers went back to university to gain fresh degrees whilst often holding menial jobs in order to keep their families.
The post-war immigration brought large numbers of Holocaust survivors to Australia – proportionately, more survivors than any other country apart from Israel. Some were not interested in religion of any kind and bitterly said, “Hitler killed my faith”. Most were Yiddish-speakers who resented the German language and culture and were uncertain how they felt towards German-speaking rabbis. Some of these rabbis such as Herman Sanger made a conscious effort not to use their mother tongue (it should be added that especially during the Second World War the communal leaders warned Jewish refugees against speaking any language other than English in the street).
The leading Australian rabbi was Israel Porush. There were sporadic challenges to his dominance, but not because of his Germanic background. The problem lay in the internal dynamic of Australian Jewry. In Sydney, the Great Synagogue, “The Big Shool”, had ruled the community for decades. Its patricians such as Sir Samuel Cohen were respected public figures. But an oligarchic system of communal government was not democratic, and eventually a lay roof body came into being, even though many of its leaders were Great Synagogue members and Rabbi Porush was influential in the early stages. A national rabbinic association was also established, and Porush, its founder, was regularly re-elected as president, which added to his public prestige and his role as head of the Sydney Beth Din and as the British chief rabbi’s representative. After some unpleasantness caused by other rabbis who resented Porush’s public standing, Chief Rabbi Israel Brodie reconfirmed Porush’s status.
Ideological challenge emerged from two other directions. The reform community objected to the community’s public representative being an orthodox rabbi, regardless of his personal qualities and professional competence, but the rabbi of the Great Synagogue was so entrenched that his reform counterpart at Temple Emanuel had to find other avenues of eminence. The strictly orthodox rabbis felt that the head of the orthodox rabbinate should insist on greater orthodoxy within his own congregation. The Great Synagogue had had a mixed choir since about 1870, and they felt that Porush should take steps to disband it. This challenge was not so much Eastern versus Western European: it was more religio-political than ethnic.
In the meantime, smaller synagogues appointed “German” rabbis such as Dr Alexander Grozinger and Dr Benjamin Gottshall. The “British” rabbis were also partly in the Germanic mould, often graduates of Jews’ College with its German-style faculty members (if I may be personal, this was my own situation since, though born in Melbourne, I was influenced as a child by Billigheimer and then studied at Jews’ College). The reform rabbis were also the products of German-type scholarship at the Hebrew Union College in the United States and later the Leo Baeck College in London.
The major congregations continued their established “Anglo” pattern, but new forces built up after the Lubavitch Chabad movement began in Shepparton, a town outside Melbourne, with a Chabad yeshivah which subsequently moved to Melbourne, where they created a range of institutions and a climate of learning and orthodoxy. In Sydney Lubavitch also became a force to be reckoned with. Chabad eventually branched out nationally, displaced the “establishment” leadership of the rabbinic organisations and in time took over suburban pulpits and in some cases the large “mother” congregations too, giving the community the perception that Eastern European Judaism was more authentic than Central or Western European.
An interesting development occurred in the liturgical area where also the German pattern was displaced. In the major orthodox congregations and even more in the liberal synagogues, the Western European musical influence had once been axiomatic. Lewandowski and Sulzer and their stately Westernised compositions had ruled for decades. Cantorial and choral programmes had been Germanic, evoking nostalgia amongst congregants who had grown up in this motif. At Temple Beth Israel in Melbourne, for example, the musical director was Dr Hermann Schildberger, who had come from a similar position in Berlin. Now a range of new composers entered synagogue services, and the happy-clappy Shlomo Carlebach trend – so different from the great German Carlebach rabbinic tradition – spread throughout orthodoxy and gained a liberal following also. By the final decades of the twentieth century the Australian liberal movement had almost severed its last ties with the German tradition.
Conservative Judaism – based on the German “Historical” school founded by Zacharias Frankel and transmuted by Solomon Schechter in the United States – has now also emerged on the Australian scene and has become visible in Melbourne and Sydney, but it is still in a relatively embryonic state. Time will tell whether it will succeed in finding a permanent niche. Until now it may well have been unnecessary because establishment orthodoxy was relatively broad in its approach. The liberal congregations continue to grow. In their spiritual leadership and services there is now significant egalitarianism. Their prayer books have been revised and newer editions of Biblical texts have been introduced. Major rabbinic incumbencies have given a new direction. Few traces remain of the pre-war Germanic tradition.
In the orthodox community German-type intellectuality is now increasingly restricted to the remnants of the older, “yekke” generation. The Rabbi Doctors of the past are almost all gone, as indeed is the union of Jewish and Western culture. (Some rabbis do gain doctorates, even for subjects with a Jewish connection, but there is little cross-fertilisation between their rabbinic and academic interests.) Hardly ever does one now see an orthodox rabbi at a classical music concert or the theatre. Rabbis taking part in musical, historical or literary scholarship are almost unthinkable. Some rabbis are even bitter opponents of university education for anyone, especially themselves.
The Eastern European influence, regarded as “the real thing”, has brought a largely Talmudic content and outlook to the synagogue pulpit, and whilst orthodox observance is on the increase, there is an absence of urbanity. From time to time there are outbreaks of uncivility between orthodox and reform rabbis with insults being traded across the theological barriers. Neither side believes that the pre-war German pattern of rabbinic partnership between the movements has any chance of being replicated. In this, as in so many other ways, the German rabbinate is now seen in the Antipodes as one of the curiosities of history.
1. On the early history of the Jews in Australia see John S Levi and George FJ Bergman, 2002. Australian Genesis, 2nd ed. (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press). There is a biographical dictionary of the early Jews: John S Levi, 1997. These are the Names: Jewish Lives in Australia 1788–1850 (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press). An overall account of Australian Jewry is Suzanne D Rutland, 1997. Edge of the Diaspora: Two Centuries of Jewish Settlement in Australia, 2nd ed. (Sydney: Brandl & Schlesinger).
2. Jospe, Eva, ed. 1971. Reason and Hope: Selections from the Jewish Writings of Hermann Cohen (NY: Norton), Ch. 6.
3. Some aspects of Levy’s visit are discussed in Raymond Apple, Religion and Politics: Mary Connolly Re-Visited, a paper for the 2011 conference of the Australian Association of Jewish Studies in Canberra.
4. His career is analysed in Raymond Apple, Solomon Hirschel: “High Priest of the Jews”, Falk Lecture, Sydney, 2006.
5. Apple, Raymond, 2008. Nathan Marcus Adler – Chief Rabbi 1845–1890, Lecture.
6. Mendes-Flohr, Paul R and Jehuda Reinharz, 1980. The Jew in the Modern World: A Documentary History (NY: Oxford University Press), pp. 153–56.
7. His career is analysed in Apple, Raymond, 2005. “Alexander Barnard Davis: Colonial Clergyman“, in Feasts and Fasts: A Festschrift in Honour of Alan David Crown (Sydney: Mandelbaum Publishing), pp. 285–98.
8. Apple, Raymond, 2008. The Great Synagogue: A History of Sydney’s Big Shule (Sydney: UNSW Press).
9. Minhag Australia, “the Australian usage” (the present writer seems to have coined the phrase) is, like Minhag Anglia, “the English Usage”, a Jewish echo of the ethos and idiom of the environment.
10. Apple, Raymond, 2010. The Title of Rabbi in British Jewry: Hermann Gollancz’s Storm in the Hierarchical Chair, a paper delivered to the Jewish Historical Society of England Israel Branch.
11. Aron, Joseph and Judy Arndt, 1992. The Enduring Remnant: The First 150 Years of the Melbourne Hebrew Congregation 1841–1991 (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press).
12. Rosenthal, Newman H, 1971. Look Back With Pride: The St. Kilda Hebrew Congregation’s First Century (Melbourne: Thomas Nelson); Havin, David J, 2011. St. Kilda Hebrew Congregation, manuscript due for publication (title not yet definite); Hilary L Rubinstein, Hilary, L. 1986. The Jews in Victoria 1835–1985 (Sydney: George Allen & Unwin).
13. Davis, Morris C, n.d. History of the East Melbourne Hebrew Congregation “Mickva Yisrael” 1857–1977 (Melbourne: East Melbourne Hebrew Congregation).
14. Apple, Raymond, 1995. Francis Lyon Cohen: The Passionate Patriot (Sydney: Australian Jewish Historical Society).
15. Levi, John S, 1995. Rabbi Jacob Danglow: “the Uncrowned Monarch of Australian Jews” (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press).
16. Apple, Raymond, 2008. Kovno and Oxford: Israel Brodie and His Rabbinical Career, Falk Lecture, Sydney.
17. Apple, Raymond, 2008. “Dr Billigheimer in Australia“, Australian Jewish Historical Society Journal 19.1: 61–74.
18. Porush, Israel, 1988. The Journal of an Australian Rabbi (Melbourne: Australian Jewish Historical Society); 1988. Historical Essays to Honour Rabbi Dr Israel Porush, OBE (Sydney: Australian Jewish Historical Society).
19. Author of major philosophical works, especially on Holocaust theology.
20. Katz, William, 1980. And the Ark Rested (Sydney: William Katz); 1980. Ein Juedisch-Deutsches Leben (Tubingen: Katzmann-Verlag).
21. Fabian, Alfred, 1980. An Australian Ministry (Sydney: Playbill).
22. Levi, John S, 2009. My Dear Friends: The Life of Rabbi Dr Herman Sanger (Melbourne: Hybrid Publishers).
23. Brasch, Rudolph, 1999. Reminiscences of a Roving Rabbi (Sydney: HarperCollins).
24. Apple, Raymond, 2010. To Be Continued: Memoirs and Musings (Sydney: Mandelbaum Publishing).
25. The terminology used for the non-orthodox groups varies. Australia tends to use the term “liberal” but not in quite the same sense as in Germany and Britain. When Australians use the term “reform”, it is not the same as British or American reform.