With Rosh Hashanah looming on the horizon, those of us who belong to a shul are likely to hear the sound of a shul magazine landing on our doormat in the not-too-distant future.

The content, whichever denomination you subscribe to, tends not to vary: a round-up of events, a message from the rabbi, photos of members who have married, recipes suitable for the forthcoming chagim (honey cake or cinnamon balls — delete as applicable) and articles from congregants.

Sometimes, a trained journalist will take on the task of editing (usually for no fee, seeing it as some sort of mitzvah), but sometimes, the job will be taken on by someone who is just willing to have a go.

It is not that easy — editing a shul magazine should come with some sort of health warning. Over the years, I have edited magazines on a variety of subjects, but shul publications are some of the most challenging to produce.

Any journalist knows that once copy is sent to the editor, it is in the hands of a sub-editor (or sub, as they are generally known). Subs are the unsung heroes of any publication.

A good sub will pick up on grammatical errors and, if necessary, tweak copy to improve it. Unfortunately, some shul magazine contributors do not accept this. They are often the most difficult writers to deal with, convinced that their copy is Pulitzer-worthy and should not be altered in any way.

I know of one shul magazine editor who survived six years as chairman of a large community, taking it through the Covid years.

He has said he has had more hassle as editor of the magazine than he ever had to endure during his entire time as chairman.

Rude emails from writers telling him not to change a single word or insisting that they saw copy before publication were commonplace, bringing with them a whole lot of tsuris.

Deadlines are another issue. Why do so many contributors not understand what the word “deadline” means? “Hold the front page!” may be the stuff of Hollywood movies, but in real life, large magazines take a lot of planning, and although a wise editor will always allow writers a little leeway, if you miss your deadline, tough!

It helps if those involved in the design at least have some knowledge of our traditions.

I once worked on a (now defunct) Jewish newspaper, where the non-Jewish designer insisted on decorating the Rosh Hashanah edition with images of Champagne bottles and streamers.

It had to be explained to him that the festival was less a time for alcohol-induced revelry and more about pausing for self-reflection.

Revenue brought in by advertising is obviously an important element for any shul magazine, but this side of the business can also bring its dilemmas.

Do you accept the ad from the lovely lingerie shop, featuring a woman wearing little more than a lacy bra and pants, knowing that it may offend some of the more Orthodox readers but bring in more money?

What about the popular local restaurant, packed with shul members on a Saturday night but most definitely not kosher?

If I am painting too gloomy a picture of the role, then I should add that it is not a complete nightmare.

There are some people who send in interesting copy — and on time — without threatening to throw hissy fits if so much as a comma is added. But they tend to be the exception.

So, when you settle down to read your shul magazine over the coming High Holy Days, please spare a thought for the poor editor who has gone through more aggravation than you could ever imagine to produce a (hopefully) entertaining journal — and all for little more than a “thank you”. Shana Tova!

Joy Sable is the JC’s dance critic, a freelance writer …and a former shul magazine editor