Switching off my phone for Yom Kippur this year felt almost impossible.
In the past, the fast itself — 25 hours without food or water — was the most daunting part of the holiest day on the Jewish calendar.
This year, it was different. Turning off the phone meant stepping away from a world teetering on edge, with the gnawing dread that by the time we reconnected to the outside world, something terrible might have happened.
For Jews everywhere, that anxiety is no longer abstract. It is lived experience.
Antisemitism is surging in the United States, where I now live, and in Britain, where I was born and raised.
The fear that an attack might occur somewhere during Yom Kippur was not merely paranoia; it was the rational expectation of a community that has seen too much.
And then it happen