I was proud when my son, then aged three, wore his kippa (Jewish skullcap) for the first time. We placed the kippa on his head and told him what it meant to be a Jew. ‘Mazel tov!’ we said as we hugged each other, prayed, and sung. We wondered hopefully what he might become – a rabbi, a doctor, an accountant – and we laughed and sung some more. A blessing on your head, mazel tov, mazel tov!
He’s now 17, and for the first time in his life was asked this week to cover his kippa up. An email from his school in London suggested that, in light of Hamas’s attack on Israel and the backlash in Britain, it might be wise not to wear it in public.
It was sage advice, perhaps, but troubling. When he read the email, my son was shocked. He point-blank refused. Wearing a kippa is a religious duty, but it is also a display of our Jewish pride, religious affiliation, and cultural belonging. The kippa both expresses our identity and identifies us as Jews. When Jews in Israel are being murdered, kidnapped, and violated are we supposed to respond by becoming less Jewish? We need our faith now more than ever.
Many Jews in Britain are fearful
But many Jews in Britain are fearful. Sadly, our concerns are not only focused on our Jewish brothers and sisters abroad. Communal and police security have been ramped up as atrocities in Israel spill over into antisemitism on British streets.
This week, two men yelled abuse at my son from their car, because they could see that he was Jewish. Yesterday, a car full of women wearing hijabs cheered and jeered at parents as we picked up our children from nursery school. On Tuesday, boys on the bus were throwing bits of stationery at the Jewish kids. Many parents have stopped sending their children to school by public transport.
Last week we were gathering in celebration. Most of the British Orthodox Jewish community did not find out about Hamas’s attacks in Israel until Sunday evening. Terrorists struck during the Jewish festival of Simchat Torah, a time of joy during which religious Jews do not use technology or have access to their phones. Anxious rumours were passed around at synagogue services on Saturday and Sunday, but we did not discover the gruesome reality until that night. When, instead of clearing away and comparing anecdotes about festive dinners, our community was contacting friends and relatives in Israel, piecing together the harrowing events, and gathering to cry and pray for the victims’ families and those still missing. Since then, for every Jew in the UK and abroad, life has changed.
This week we are gathering in shock and tears. How do we tell our children that we are being targeted because we are Jews?
Jewish charities have instantly mobilised, sending supplies and essentials to Israeli troops and civilians. Community members are hosting and supporting families who have been stuck in the UK and can’t return home. Prayer groups have been established, with the names of the injured and the hostages. Social media feeds have been buzzing with photos of smiling faces of young children, the elderly and entire families. If their faces aren’t blurred out you know, before you read the caption, that they are among the dead.
In the aftermath of Hamas’s attack, and what is happening in Britain, we are sleeping less and praying more. We are doing whatever we can to support Israelis from afar and hoping with all our might that this nightmare will soon end. We are in this together. And you can be darn sure that we’re not taking our kippa off.
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