By Joseph Timan
Copyright manchestereveningnews
Today was supposed to be a holy day. Jewish people around the world – even those of us who are not religious – will mark it in some way. Fasting, praying, or just taking the day off and switching off from the world. Instead, we have spent the day glued to the news and calling our loved ones to make sure they are safe. The Jewish community is in shock, in mourning, and fearful about our future. For me, a stereotypical ‘Yom Kippur Jew’, it is one of the only days in the Jewish calendar that I observe. I don’t go to synagogue, but I fast and try to have a bit of a digital detox. Sign up to the MEN Politics newsletter Due North here More observant Jews spend the day of atonement in places of worship, praying for forgiveness. These places are supposed to be a sanctuary – a place where we are safe. But for those attending the morning service at the Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation today (October 2), every Jew’s worst nightmare has come true. It is the day we hoped would never come. Growing up in the Jewish community, you become accustomed to security guards manning the gates of your synagogues, schools and community centres. You rarely question it. When anti-semitic attacks happen elsewhere in the world, security is stepped up. In 2003, when I was 10, two synagogues in Turkey were bombed. I remember the response vividly. The two gates at the entrance of my Jewish school were closed and would only open one at a time to allow parents with security permits on their cars to drop off their kids. I recall teachers telling us that, in the event of an emergency, we must get under our desks. Until we were in sixth form, we were not allowed out of the school gates during lunch breaks. This was normal – and the occasional eggs thrown at our school buses, or comments made to us in the street when we were in our school uniforms, helped us understand why. But while we watched terrorist attacks take place elsewhere, did we ever believe it would happen here, in Britain? You may hear about a rise in anti-Semitism, stories of a foiled terror plot, but it’s hard to believe that such a barbaric, targeted attack could happen on our soil. Perhaps I was in denial – community leaders have long warned us about the threats we face. Perhaps I was naively hopeful that this could never happen in a place like Manchester. But today, as the gruesome accounts of what happened in Heaton Park synagogue are told, there is no hiding from the grim reality. And as the news sinks in, we fear what comes next. Last week, when I was travelling around Europe, visiting the beautiful synagogues that survived the Nazi occupation, I browsed the Judaica on sale, wondering if I should buy a mezuzah – a religious ornament that is affixed to the doors of Jewish homes. It was not for any religious reason, but simply because I want to proudly display my culture and my heritage. Now, today of all days, I’m forced to think twice about displaying my Jewishness so openly.
