On Yom Kippur morning, the holiest day of the Jewish calendar, my husband and I were at different synagogues. I was with our two younger boys, while he was with our eldest at another shul down the road. When he didn’t arrive to meet us as planned, my anxiety grew.
Later I learned why: midway through his service, the rabbi had announced that there had been a terror attack in Manchester around 9:30 a.m., and the synagogue was going into lockdown. In that moment, as I held the hands of my younger sons, I felt the dread that has become a quiet companion of Jewish life in Britain today.
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