As first-time parents to a baby born over the pandemic, we missed the chance to host a “welcome to the world” party. I had hoped to host a fabulous kiddush with balloons, teddy bears and, of course, lots of food. 

I thought about what we would wear and who we would see. And above all, I hoped we would have the chance to celebrate the moment with our loved ones. 

Last Saturday, we were finally able to do so at Lauderdale Road Synagogue — in a very special way. We had received an invitation from the S&P Sephardi office, inviting us to a Shabbat baby blessing for all the children born over the past two years. 

I was not going to miss this. I dressed our 16-month-old baby boy in his finest blue jumper and shirt. My husband wore his navy suit (teamed with the baby blue kippah saved from our wedding) and I — for the first time in far too long — donned my favourite pair of designer suede boots with crystal heels. I even whipped out the cashmere cape I pinched from my mother’s wardrobe, way back when we used to wear fabulous coats. 

Some might dismiss the thought behind the fashion — but it has been so long since our family have been to synagogue properly. 

And Lauderdale Road, the synagogue where we were wed, carries special significance. It is the synagogue that I grew up going to. I know where the cheder toys are stashed, its secret hideaways and the shortcuts that take you directly from the children’s service to the kiddush hall. 

Walking in with our son for the first time, all those memories came back. Just like my mum used to do, I waved the boys into the men’s section past the celebratory balloons as I headed up to the ladies’ row. 

Some faces were different but most were familiar. And clearly I was not the only one who had made the effort. A friend’s husband wore a pink kippah to match his wife’s and daughter’s dresses. 

The women looked beautiful, elegant and — behind their facemasks — happy to be back. There were women I have grown up with but not seen for years, faces that you might not see socially but always see at shul. 

I parked myself next to a friend I have not seen since the pandemic. I wondered whether I should have left my handbag (filled with essentials, like a lipstick and toy train) behind? “We bring the babies, the buggies and the Chanel. Don’t worry,” she laughed. It was good to be back. 

For me, the synagogue social scene has always been as important as the religious service. If you are spending significant moments and a chunk of the weekend with a group of people, why not do it with people that you like talking to? 

But we were here for the babies. 

We were here to introduce them to people beyond our immediate family and friends. And we were here for them to receive their blessing. 

Dayan Daniel Kada spoke movingly about the importance of welcoming the children into the community, and not letting Covid define their lives.  

As I watched my son attempt to rip off my husband’s mask and wrestle the siddur from his hands during the speech, I hoped the pandemic period was being left behind. 

And the ceremony was moving. First, all the baby girls were carried up to the Ark one by one to have their Hebrew names announced to applause from the congregants. Then all the children — from newborns to toddlers — were individually presented with a certificate and book from the PJ Library charity as their names were announced to the community. 

And finally, the Shabbat blessing. Two tallits were held up for all the children — who may grow up together — to gather under as they were blessed. It is a moment I will never forget.  

Outside, we made our way to the individually-packaged kiddush boxes, complete with baby biscuits and rugelach. 

With my boots finally getting the better of me, I sat on the outside bench, tucked into the box and spilt crumbs all over my cape. 

I watched my son gravitate towards the large tree at the front of the synagogue, which has always seemed bigger than the building in which it is housed. Just like I had done as a little girl, I watched him navigate and play around the large uneven roots that have risen above the surface. 

We spoke to friends, friends of friends and a former schoolteacher — in a way you only do at shul.  

Perhaps it takes a moment like a baby blessing to bring a community together in such a special way. But either way, this is the social side of synagogue that I have long loved, missed and will hopefully be back for more of.