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It’s October 7th, so of course I’m flooded with memories of two years ago: the terror of not knowing what was happening to our eldest, Tal, who lives near Jerusalem; of Hamas’ massacres and repulsive abductions, calculated to torment, entrench trauma and to trigger violence. And then, a spiralling, horrendous war. I yearn for these Egypt talks to bring a lasting ceasefire; All Israeli hostages – alive and dead – brought to their homes or graves; and millions of displaced Palestinians in Gaza, given immediate safe access to medicine, food and water. And a secure and just future.

Today is also the start of the Jewish festival, Sukkot, meaning – booths or tabernacles; for a week, we eat inside our temporary huts, to identify with the mobile shelters of the ancient Israelites on their journey from Egypt to Israel.

It’s tempting, especially in light of the Manchester synagogue attack, to turn inwards and shut out others to protect ourselves, but, on Sukkot, we’re commanded to do exactly the opposite. We have to invite strangers, guests, into our flimsy, vulnerable space.
And when we’re in close proximity with guests, whilst we’re eating, we talk. We talk together, ask questions, explain and debate. The simple act of talking tests out our own views and we hear what others think.

I’ve often asked myself, what’s that person in the gym thinking when they give me that look? Are they inappropriately holding me, a British Jew, to account for something that’s happening in Gaza - or maybe, they’re not giving me that look at all?

It’s only by taking this risk of talking, that we can counteract the corrosive effects of the war over there, on communal relations here. Rachel Goldberg-Polen, mother of one the murdered hostages, Hersch, says, we must avoid being ‘swept up in the enticing, and delicious world of hatred’ which we saw in the attack on the Manchester synagogue and the arson on the Peacehaven mosque. These are atrocities, affecting all of us. We mustn’t let them corrode the hard-earned cohesion that we as a country have achieved.

There’s one more vital Sukkot commandment. We’re commanded to celebrate and rejoice. Surely you can’t feel something on demand. ‘Pain’ is the unifying emotion that British Jews have felt since October 7th two years ago. But we’re commanded to step away from fears and pain, if only temporarily.
I’m celebrating living in a democracy, grateful for the police and for the community response, appreciative of the strangers who contacted me immediately, offering solidarity. This is my Sukkot celebration - for a whole week.

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