Attack on Kenton shul is not just personal. It feels like a line being crossed

The attack on Kenton shul was incredibly personal, but also perhaps the moment to consider my future as a British Jew.

Kenton was my world until I was in my early 20s. There was a triangle of the shul, the club opposite and the park. All three were fully integrated into a world that thousands of us lived in the 1970s and 1980s which seems a million miles away from today.

We are now spread throughout London, Israel and beyond but there is a connection to the area that directly connects to our Jewish identity. Kenton was not a wealthy community – most of our parents were cab drivers, market traders or small business owners. But if wealth was measured in values – we were incredibly rich.

The shul is where my brothers and I had our bar mitzvahs. And if I close my eyes, I can see every seat, recognise hundreds of people and even smell the kiddush. I would guess that I went there around three times a week for various things, even barmitzvah lessons that were not required as my brothers and I were at JFS. But everyone went. Perhaps a third of us went to Jewish schools, but as many went to Claremont, Kingsbury High and Preston Manor.

It was not just an attack on my shul. It was an attack on my existence as a British Jew

After the club was built, which now houses Maccabi, we had the best Jewish youth club in London and a thriving Girl Guide and Scout movement. Whilst cup-winning football teams and social events at the club were its priority, the relationship with the shul was close and respectful. The huge Capital Radio disco parties, attended by people from across London, were always held after Shabbat and were always kosher.

The park was crucial too. Most of us did not have expensive foreign holidays – we had the summer scheme which involved doing lots of sport in the park utilising the tennis courts that no one ever paid to use.

The relationship between the park and the shul was also pivotal on yom tov. Thousands of young people who were supposed to be in shul would invariably meet in the park to do innocent things like collect conkers, or as we hit teenage years, enjoy slightly more interesting experiences away from the prying eyes of our parents.

Antisemitism was something we were aware of but even that felt innocent. We would be chased on Yom Kippur by kids from St Gregory’s school who would throw their ham sandwiches in our direction. And we heard stories of local NF supporters who might shoot us with an air gun – but I think that was largely apocryphal.

I went to shul most weeks before my barmitzvah and for years after, and never once felt threatened. But these memories show an innocence that is no more.

For our shul to be attacked is not just an attack on my shul. It is an attack on my existence as a British Jew.

Kenton shul is now a tiny, largely elderly community. It has nothing to do with any war taking place in the middle east. But that is not the point as we know. It is simply a Jewish venue, so in the eyes of those who hate us, a justified target.

Never, in a million years, did my younger self contemplate such an existence. My kids are now grown up, and I am blessed with a granddaughter. What will Jewish life be like for her growing up in the UK? I am sure it won’t be as pure and innocent as the one I had. But will it be possible for her and her future siblings and cousins to live here at all?