The Blogs: Journalist weeps at the pulpit: A Manchester-Israeli’s cry

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A few days later, I am still pinching myself. Did this really happen in my city? I’m a journalist, born and raised in Manchester and now based in Israel. I’m used to covering unbearable news here — not there.

When I was growing up, people would sometimes fake-sneeze at me, saying “aaah-Jew.” I never imagined that so-called “activists” would one day exploit that same ancient hatred — or that actual antisemitic murder would happen in my home city.

After the fast, I didn’t even want to eat. I couldn’t sleep, and ended up staying awake half the night, pouring my heart out on Instagram. Eventually, I decided to write a few words to share from the pulpit in my synagogue on Shabbat — words I may soon revisit when speaking with Jewish communities abroad. Here they are, in the Hebrew I delivered, and in English.

Manchester.
The city where I grew up,
where my parents were born,
and most of my grandparents too.

“Nachamu, nachamu ami” — “comfort, oh comfort, my people.”
It’s not the right Shabbat,
but we return to the same words we read
after the Fast of Av,
when we need comfort for our mourning.

Once, in Manchester, after Yom Kippur,
people used to gather for parties.
It was at such a party, in 1937,
that my grandmother met a nice man called Nat Levy.
I’m holding the diary entry where she wrote
that she danced with him “all night,”
and, like a gentleman,
he took her to her door afterwards.
Nat was Nathan — my grandfather —
and I’m named after him.

This year, after the fast,
nobody felt like smiling —
let alone dancing.
The Jewish community in Manchester is grieving.

It happened ten minutes from my school —
the school where every morning we sang a prayer
“Our brethren in all of Israel… who are in trouble.”
Where I took my high school diploma —
Jewish history and British history —
two subjects for our two identities.

We studied Jewish tragedies,
prayed for our brothers and sisters in difficulty,
and for the soldiers in Israel.
Every year on Tisha B’Av
we read a special kina
for the Jews who died in York in 1190.
But we never imagined
Jews would be killed in our city
just for being Jews.
That was history.

I have no wise words.
I just want to return
to the shofar of Rosh Hashanah —
a cry to God
for when we have no words.

Yet the Jewish community of Manchester is strong.
Soon thousands will gather
and read the next Torah portion —
“V’zot HaBracha” — “And These Are the Blessings.”
Even at a moment
when they don’t feel blessed — but cursed.

And with greater courage still,
they’ll sit in the sukkah,
in the Manchester weather,
where we always joked
that the bowl of soup never finishes —
because the rain just keeps dripping in.

May the unity we feel now
between Israel and the communities abroad
quickly turn from unity in sorrow
to shared joy.
Shabbat shalom.

‎‏מַנְצֶ’סְטֶר.‏‎
‎‏הָעִיר שֶׁבָּה גָּדַלְתִּי,‏‎
‎‏שֶׁבָּה נוֹלְדוּ הַהוֹרִים שֶׁלִּי,‏‎
‎‏וְרוֹב הַסָּבִים וְהַסָּבְתּוֹת שֶׁלִּי.‏‎

‎‏״נַחֲמוּ נַחֲמוּ עַמִּי״ — ״נַחֲמוּ נַחֲמוּ אֶת עַמִּי״.‏‎
‎‏זֶה לֹא הַשַּׁבָּת הַנְּכוֹנָה,‏‎
‎‏אֲבָל אֲנַחְנוּ חוֹזְרִים לְאוֹתָן מִלִּים שֶׁאָנוּ קוֹרְאִים‏‎
‎‏אַחֲרֵי תִּשְׁעָה בְּאָב,‏‎
‎‏כְּשֶׁאָנוּ צְרִיכִים נֶחָמָה לְאַבְלֵנוּ.‏‎

‎‏
פַּעַם, בְּמַנְצֶ’סְטֶר, אַחֲרֵי יוֹם כִּפּוּר,‏‎
‎‏הָיוּ נוֹהֲגִים לְהִתְכַּנֵּס לְמִסְבָּעוֹת.‏‎
‎‏הָיָה בְּאַחַת מֵהַמִּסְבָּעוֹת הָאֵלֶּה, בְּשַׁנַּת 1937,‏‎
‎‏שֶׁבָּהּ הַסָּבְתָּא שֶׁלִּי פָּגְשָׁה בְּבָחוּר נֶחְמָד בְּשֵׁם נָאט לֵוִי.‏‎
‎‏אֲנִי מַחְזִיק עַכְשָׁיו אֶת דַּף הַיּוֹמָן שֶׁבּוֹ כָּתְבָה,‏‎
‎‏שֶׁרָקְדָה אִתּוֹ ״כָּל הַלַּיְלָה״,‏‎
‎‏וּכְאַדִּיב הוּא לִוָּה אוֹתָהּ עַד הַדֶּלֶת.‏‎
‎‏נָאט הָיָה נָתָן — הַסָּב שֶׁלִּי —‏‎
‎‏וַאֲנִי נִקְרָא עַל שְׁמוֹ.‏‎

‎‏הַשָּׁנָה, אַחֲרֵי הַצּוֹם,‏‎
‎‏לְאִישׁ לֹא הָיָה חֵפֶץ לַחְיוֹךְ —‏‎
‎‏וְלֹא כָל שֶׁכֵּן לִרְקֹד.‏‎
‎‏הַקְּהִילָה הַיְּהוּדִית בְּמַנְצֶ’סְטֶר בְּאֵבֶל.‏‎

‎‏זֶה קָרָה עֶשֶׂר דַּקּוֹת מִן הַבֵּית־סֵפֶר שֶׁלִּי —‏‎
‎‏הַבֵּית־סֵפֶר שֶׁבּוֹ כָּל בּוֹקֶר שָׁרְנוּ‏‎
‎‏״אַחֵינוּ כָּל בֵּית יִשְׂרָאֵל״.‏‎
‎‏שָׁם נִבְחַנְתִּי בַּבַּגְרוּת —‏‎
‎‏בְּהִיסְטוֹרְיָה יְהוּדִית וּבְהִיסְטוֹרְיָה בְּרִיטִית —‏‎
‎‏שְׁנֵי מִקְצוֹעוֹת לִשְׁתֵּי הַזֶּהוּיוֹת שֶׁלָּנוּ.‏‎

‎‏לָמַדְנוּ עַל טְרָגֶדְיוֹת יְהוּדִיּוֹת,‏‎
‎‏הִתְפַּלַּלְנוּ עַל אַחֵינוּ וַאֲחָיוֹתֵינוּ בְּצָרָה,‏‎
‎‏וְעַל חַיָּלֵי צַהַ״ל.‏‎
‎‏כָּל שָׁנָה בְּתִשְׁעָה בְּאָב‏‎
‎‏קָרָאנוּ קִינָה מְיֻחֶדֶת‏‎
‎‏עַל הַיְּהוּדִים שֶׁמֵּתוּ בְּיוֹרְק בִּשְׁנַת 1190.‏‎
‎‏אֲבָל אַף פַּעַם לֹא דִּמִּינוּ‏‎
‎‏שֶׁיַּהַרְגוּ יְהוּדִים בָּעִיר שֶׁלָּנוּ‏‎
‎‏רַק מִפְּנֵי שֶׁהֵם יְהוּדִים.‏‎
‎‏זֶה הָיָה הִיסְטוֹרְיָה.‏‎

‎‏אֵין לִי מִלִּים חֲכָמוֹת.‏‎
‎‏אֲנִי רַק רוֹצֶה לַחֲזוֹר‏‎
‎‏לַשּׁוֹפָר שֶׁל רֹאשׁ הַשָּׁנָה —‏‎
‎‏לִזְעָקָה לֵאלֹהִים‏‎
‎‏כְּשֶׁאֵין לָנוּ מִלִּים.‏‎

‎‏וּבְכָל זֹאת, הַקְּהִילָה הַיְּהוּדִית בְּמַנְצֶ’סְטֶר חֲזָקָה.‏‎
‎‏עוֹד מְעַט אֲלָפִים יִתְאַסְּפוּ‏‎
‎‏וְיִקְרְאוּ אֶת פָּרָשַׁת הַתּוֹרָה הַבָּאָה —‏‎
‎‏״וְזֹאת הַבְּרָכָה״ — ״וְאֵלֶּה הַבְּרָכוֹת״.‏‎
‎‏גַּם בָּרֶגַע‏‎
‎‏שֶׁהֵם לֹא מַרְגִּישִׁים מְבוֹרָכִים — אֶלָּא מְקוּלָּלִים.‏‎

‎‏וּבְאוֹמֶץ עוֹד יוֹתֵר גָּדוֹל,‏‎
‎‏הֵם יֵשְׁבוּ בַּסּוּכָּה,‏‎
‎‏בְּמֶזֶג הָאֲוִיר שֶׁל מַנְצֶ’סְטֶר,‏‎
‎‏שֶׁבּוֹ תָּמִיד הָיִינוּ צוֹחֲקִים‏‎
‎‏שֶׁהַמָּרוֹק אַף פַּעַם לֹא נִגְמָר —‏‎
‎‏כִּי הַגֶּשֶׁם פָּשׁוּט מַמְשִׁיךְ לְטַפְטֵף פְּנִימָה.‏‎

‎‏הַלְוַואִי שֶׁהָאַחְדוּת שֶׁאֲנַחְנוּ מַרְגִּישִׁים עַכְשָׁיו‏‎
‎‏בֵּין יִשְׂרָאֵל וְהַקְּהִילוֹת שֶׁבַּחוּ״ל‏‎
‎‏תֵּהָפֵךְ מְהֵרָה מֵאַחְדוּת שֶׁל כְּאֵב‏‎
‎‏לְשִׂמְחָה מְשֻׁתֶּפֶת.‏‎
‎‏שַׁבָּת שָׁלוֹם.‏‎