Shabbat Shalom to those who stand taller

For much of the past two years, British Jews have found themselves on the defensive. Defending our right to feel safe, our connection to Israel, our history, defending our very right to a place within British society.

There are times when that is necessary, moments when communities have no choice but to stand their ground against those who seek to intimidate, isolate or diminish them. But no community can build its future through this approach.

Resilience may help a people survive, confidence is what allows them to thrive. Futures are built through achievement, through education, through leadership. Through the willingness to stand proudly and publicly as who we are.

That is why this week’s Shabbat Shalom is dedicated to those who are doing exactly that.

Those who remind us that Jewish pride is not something to apologise for, who understand that confidence is not arrogance, who, in very different ways, are helping our community stand taller.

So this week, I want to say Shabbat Shalom to the following people.

Shabbat Shalom to Raz Shabtai.

A Michelin star is supposed to be about food, this week it became about something rather bigger.

Israeli-born chef Raz Shabtai made history when his restaurant became the first kosher establishment ever to receive a Michelin star. On one level, this is simply a story about culinary excellence. A talented chef producing exceptional food and receiving the recognition his work deserves. But viewed through the lens of 2026, it becomes something much more.

Across the world we have watched Jewish and Israeli-owned businesses become targets not because of what they do, but because of who they are. Kosher restaurants vandalised, Jewish businesses boycotted, demonstrations organised outside establishments whose only crime was serving Jewish customers or maintaining visible links to Israel. Whether protests against Miznon and Gails in London, the vandalising of Bagel Cafe in Miami and Goldies in Philadelphia or the destruction of King David Burger in Athens. The global attacks on Jewish owned businesses have been a clear and deliberate attempt to make Jewish visibility feel controversial.

That reality makes this achievement particularly significant, because Raz Shabtai did not win a Michelin star by hiding who he was, in fact quite the opposite.

He named the restaurant after his Jerusalem-born grandmother. The food itself is inspired by her cooking, by her recipes, by the traditions and culture that shaped his family. In other words, this is not a story about somebody quietly placing their Jewish or Israeli identity to one side in order to achieve success.

This is a man standing in front of the world and saying: this is me. This is my family, this is my heritage, this is my culture, this is where I come from and then asking to be judged by exactly the same standards as everyone else.

At a time when so many Jews are being told that visibility is dangerous, that connection to Israel is embarrassing, that public expressions of Jewish pride should be toned down or hidden away, there is something wonderfully defiant about an Israeli chef placing his heritage at the very centre of his work and being recognised as the best.

Not because of who he is, but because of how good he is.

Shabbat Shalom to Raz Shabtai and to those who understand that one of the most powerful ways to stand taller is simply to be brilliant at what you do and most importantly to never hide who you are.

Shabbat Shalom to Shabana Mahmood and the Home Office

It is becoming something of a recurring feature of this column to thank Shabana Mahmood, which seems odd given my feelings for the government she represents, but credit where credit is due.

This week, the Home Office refused entry to Hasan Piker and Cenk Uygur, preventing them from appearing at events including SXSW London and engagements connected to the Oxford Union.

Predictably, the usual cries followed: Free speech, censorship, the Jewish lobby, the establishment silencing dissent, but none of these arguments survive even the briefest scrutiny.

Hasan Piker is not being excluded because he is a critic of the Israeli government. There are countless critics of the Israeli government who travel freely throughout Britain every single day. He is being excluded because criticism and extremism are not the same thing.

This is a man who stated that America “deserved” 9/11. A man who referred to observant Jews as “inbred”. A man who has repeatedly sought to minimise or deny the sexual violence committed on 7 October . A man who has compared Zionism to Nazism. A man who has consistently shown greater sympathy for Hamas and Hezbollah than for the democratic state those organisations openly seek to destroy.

At some point, we have to stop pretending this is legitimate political discourse.

Free speech is one of the foundational pillars of a democratic society, but free speech has never meant every country is obliged to provide a platform to anyone who wishes to enter it.

Every nation has both the right and the responsibility to decide whether individuals who glorify terrorists, excuse atrocities or spread hatred should be welcomed into its public discourse.

Britain made the correct decision.

Perhaps most revealing of all was the rush by some political figures to defend him. Among them Zack Polanski, who appears increasingly determined to demonstrate that there is almost no cause, however extreme, and more often than not antisemitic, that he is unwilling to embrace if it advances his political ambitions.

Support for Hasan Piker tells us a great deal about Hasan Piker. It also tells us a great deal about those willing to defend him.

One individual sought to protect British public life from the spread of hatred and extremism. Another chose to champion the man accused of spreading it. That contrast speaks for itself.

Shabbat Shalom to Shabana Mahmood, the Home Office and those who understand that standing taller sometimes means having the confidence to draw clear moral boundaries.

Shabbat Shalom to Jo Rosenfelder and Adam Taub

If confidence is built anywhere, it is built in education.

This week, more than one thousand Jewish students from twenty-eight schools came together to participate in the Etgar Challenge, an extraordinary celebration of Jewish learning founded fifteen years ago by Jo Rosenfelder and Adam Taub.

At first glance it looks like a competition, in reality, it is something much more important.

The battle for the future of Jewish life will not be won in Westminster, it will not be won on social media, it will not be won in newspaper columns. It will be won in classrooms.

Across the Western world, Jewish children are increasingly being presented with a choice that no generation should ever have to face. Be proud of who you are or be accepted. Embrace your Jewish identity or make life easier for yourself by quietly putting parts of it aside.

For some, tragically, that bargain is proving tempting.

You can see it in New York, once perhaps the most confident Jewish city in the Diaspora. A city where a remarkable number of Jewish voters under thirty recently backed Zohran Mamdani.

The political debate itself matters less than the deeper question it raises. What does that tell us about the Jewish children they will raise? What confidence in Jewish identity are they passing on? What understanding of Jewish history? What connection to Jewish peoplehood? What connection to Israel?

That is why Etgar matters, because Etgar does not teach Jewish children to apologise for who they are, but to understand who they are and there is a profound difference between the two.

Knowledge creates confidence, confidence creates pride and proud Jews build proud Jewish families. For fifteen years, Jo Rosenfelder and Adam Taub have been helping to create exactly that.

At a time when so many forces are attempting to make Jewish identity feel burdensome, Etgar makes it feel exciting. It makes learning joyful, it transforms knowledge into pride and pride into confidence. That may prove to be one of the most important investments our community can ever make.

Shabbat Shalom to Jo, Adam and everyone involved in Etgar for helping the next generation stand taller than the last, by giving them the confidence to openly be who they are.

Shabbat Shalom to Lord Mann

Few things should be more politically neutral than a hospital. When somebody arrives in pain, frightened or vulnerable, they should not have to wonder where their doctor stands on the latest geopolitical conflict. They should simply receive care.

That is why Lord Mann’s recommendation that NHS staff should not wear political symbols while on duty is both sensible and necessary.

Importantly, this is not about one particular cause, it is not about one particular badge or one particular community. It is about ensuring that public institutions remain genuinely welcoming to everyone who relies upon them.

The need for Lord Mann’s recommendations did not emerge in a vacuum. It emerged because Jewish patients and Jewish staff have experienced things that should be unimaginable within Britain’s healthcare system.

Patients have reported finding “Boycott Israeli Apartheid” stickers placed on hospital beds. Jewish patients have reported being told to “get your Jewish ambulance.” A visibly Jewish nine-year-old child suffering from a blood disorder was reportedly forced to sit on the floor at Royal Manchester Children’s Hospital while being treated by nurses wearing pro-Palestinian insignia. University College London Hospital was forced to apologise after a nurse wore political symbols during the birth of a Jewish couple’s child.

Lord Mann’s review documented evidence of what it described as the routine ostracism of Jewish staff. Reports included antisemitic comments, conspiracy theories, Holocaust denial and social media activity supporting extremist causes.

There have even been cases involving healthcare professionals accused of praising the October 7th attacks, making threatening gestures towards Jewish demonstrators and expressing support for proscribed terrorist organisations.

This is not political disagreement, it is institutional failure and when Jewish patients begin concealing their identity from medical professionals, or Jewish staff feel unable to express theirs, something has gone profoundly wrong.

Hospitals should be places where patients receive treatment, not political messaging. The fact that this even needs saying tells us how far some institutions have drifted.

Lord Mann’s recommendations will not solve antisemitism overnight, but they do send an important message. That public institutions belong to everyone and that nobody should be made to feel like an outsider while seeking care, providing care or simply doing their job.

Shabbat Shalom to Lord Mann and to those who understand that standing taller sometimes means ensuring our institutions remain worthy of the trust placed in them.

Every week there are people who make a difference. Sometimes through excellence, sometimes through leadership, sometimes through education, sometimes through the simple courage of refusing to compromise on what is right.

This week’s Shabbat Shalom is dedicated to those who reminded us that confidence matters. Confidence in who we are, in our history, in our values, in our future.

Raz Shabtai showed that Jewish pride and excellence are not opposing forces but partners. Shabana Mahmood demonstrated that leadership requires the confidence to draw clear moral boundaries. Jo Rosenfelder and Adam Taub continue to help a generation of young Jews discover that knowledge creates pride and pride creates strength. Lord Mann reminded us that public institutions should never ask anyone to hide who they are in order to feel welcome.

Together, they tell the same story. That Jewish confidence is not arrogance, triumphalism or superiority. It is simply the willingness to stand tall in a world that increasingly encourages people to sit down.

So if someone made a difference this week, by celebrating Jewish achievement, defending common sense, educating the next generation or ensuring that our institutions remain worthy of trust, add their name. Because there are far more people worthy of a Shabbat Shalom than can ever fit into a single column.

Shabbat Shalom and may we remember that confidence, like continuity, is not passive. It is built, nurtured and passed forward by ordinary people who understand that the strongest communities are not those that apologise for who they are, but those that stand taller because of it.