Members of the society process the attack on their community as they break fast together.
On the morning of October 2nd, two people were killed and three injured in a terror attack outside Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation synagogue in north Manchester. An antisemitic attack on Judaism’s holiest day, many in the community felt this sort of incident was inevitable amongst increasing antisemitism across the UK. Rabbi Daniel Walker caught the attacker’s eye as he held the synagogue doors shut against him, and later said: “I saw evil and I saw hate. And we will not allow that to beat us”.
That evening, UofG’s Jewish Society (JSoc) came together to break their fast. Yom Kippur, a day intended for reflection and retrospection, was instead spent processing the attack which happened four hours south of their community to one a little bigger, but otherwise very like their own. Co-president Jane* grew up in Manchester’s Jewish community. Information was scarce at the time of the event, and she reassures others as she worries for the safety of her family and friends.
There is an unexpected guest – the security guard whose presence was organised following “frantic emails” that afternoon.Their relationship with University security began following October 2023, treasurer Lucy* tells me in reference to the October 7 attacks. These attacks were publicly described as “glorious” by Glasgow University Justice for Palestine Society earlier this month. Lucy describes the “peace of mind” the security presence gives society members. This vigilance is echoed across the JSoc: “everyone worries about it” says Jane, “it” being a disturbingly commonplace reference to the safety most student groups take for granted.
Food is unpacked and the table soon becomes laden with bread, hummus, red cabbage and sweet potato. Members trickle into the hall: some greetings are joyous; others solemn with the shared knowledge of that morning’s attack and the connections some have with the community it struck. They were all worried about Jane today, someone tells me. Jane and Lucy chat easily, but their demeanors transform as the security guard takes them to one side and talks with them quietly. The evening was like this – easy conversation and hilarity and deep appreciation for food which has been waited for long enough, with flashes of the sombre reality. Four hours south of here, people much like this group lost their lives for observing the same traditions which many in this room did earlier that day.
“I’m starving…”, a boy says in lieu of a greeting as he trails into the room.
My plate is loaded up by people who are, of course, very hungry. Food is on everyone’s minds following 25 hours without it and the atmosphere is one of plenty. Someone looks with incredulity as they pull out of a bag the plain, soft rolls which were sold as challahs: “a brioch at best”, they assess whilst chewing.
As the meal progresses and the hall grows busy with arrivals fresh from shul, I go with Jane to sit in the dimly lit hallway, quiet except from the laughter which filters out of the hall, and the footsteps of the security guard pacing dutifully back and forth. I ask her to tell me about her day, and she pauses at the question’s difficulty. Normally an easy, mindless answer, it’s now frightful in its openness for a day wracked with worry and cautionary grief. She begins:
“Today I had classes. I was… where do I start” and breaks off as she becomes upset. Recovering quickly, Jane tells me she was waiting to go into class and received an email from Deputy Vice Chancellor David Duncan. He was “wishing us a peaceful Yom Kippur, but also he had heard the news about the synagogue in Manchester. And he was just wishing us peace and to know that the uni was there and they have counselors if we need to talk to anyone”. This was the first Jane had heard of the attack, and “immediately went to phone my mum, my dad. And they didn’t answer because their phones were on silent because they would have been at shul.”
Problems with communication were common throughout the day. Many in the community turn off technology on Yom Kippur and news of the attack, as well as confirmation of people’s safety, spread slowly. Third year veterinary student David* later describes going to Synagogue to pray and being asked to give a “summary of what happened in Manchester” to people who had been in shul all day. “They might have had people they were concerned about but didn’t even know to be concerned”. Aware of the connections to Manchester many will have had, he worried over the job he had to do. “God, how do I talk someone through this?” he had thought.
This distressing reality was echoed in communities across the UK. In north Manchester, as prayers finished in the evening, journalists found themselves informing worshippers of the attack that had occurred just streets away from them that morning.
Jane eventually found out what happened from looking online and “finally got through on the phone to my sister”, who was at home with her mum. The synagogue where the attack happened was not the one her family attend, although it’s “a shul that I have been to quite a few times – bar and bat mitzvahs [of] people in my school, and I know so many people that will be there.” She points out it will have been especially busy on Yom Kippur and that there are “so many people that wouldn’t usually go to shul. If there’s one day a year that they would go it’s today.” David echoes these thoughts: “to target a community on Yom Kippur is more malicious than any other time of year. You have to be aware that this is a special day for the community. That stings a bit.”
At the time of our interview, the names of the victims had not been released. Jane says “I’m sure when they are I’ll know them, or I’ll know of them.”
The UK’s Jewish community is small, and the effects of the attack reverberate across cities north and south. In Glasgow, David says the security guards normally stationed outside synagogues were “a bit more uptight today”; on campus, a JSoc member reveals they attended school beside Heaton Park. “I think it will take time to realise the gravitas of something like this” David says.
The society are welcoming, but tight-knit. Maybe moreso than your average student group, there’s an understanding shared throughout its members which comes across from that evening alone.
Perhaps it’s the shared anticipation of eating and drinking, which Jane describes as feeling “homely and domestic. [When] you’re sharing food with someone you feel so deeply connected with them”; or the events of that day in particular, which saw the society checking in with JSocs across other universities.
Or perhaps the shared understanding is a necessity, originating from from an otherwise lack of it. David wonders if his friends will broach the topic with him: “When I go into university tomorrow, [will] anyone ask me? My friends know I’m Jewish. What will their impression be, if they click on that kind of article in the news?” Jane talks of feeling better for “being with people who could sympathise.”
They share their sadness often, but forge connection in doing so. “We have the memorials and we have the fast days and the sad days, but my friend’s always talking about ‘Jewish joy’ – turning all the sad things into having actual nice times”.
That is what comes across that evening, it strikes me. In the Wellington Church Hall, people talk and laugh, cry and eat. They talk honestly of their worry for themselves and their friends, and take a determined joy in the comfort of eacother on an otherwise solemn day.
David Duncan, Deputy Vice Chancellor and COO, was contacted for comment and gave the following response:
“We want all students to feel welcome and safe on campus regardless of background, ethnicity, faith group or nationality. As part of this we keep in regular contact with JSoc, both through the Chaplaincy and via occasional meetings with senior managers.
“We will continue to find ways to celebrate the diversity of our University community and to make sure that we support students who may be affected by terrible external events such as the attack on the Manchester synagogue.”
*The names of individuals in this article were changed for the purposes of anonymity.
