They Chose Light in Edinburgh |
Just a week ago, in the quiet of our kitchen, I told my husband I wanted to go into Edinburgh to witness my first Chanukah menorah lighting in my new home country, Scotland. It felt like a small, hopeful step toward connecting with a community I was only beginning to know. But my husband, a native Scot and not Jewish, looked at me with worry. He had seen the rising tide of antisemitic attacks around the world and understood what it meant to gather publicly as a Jew in these times. Between our chronic illnesses and a fresh NHS warning about a severe flu sweeping the country, the risks felt real on multiple levels. I wondered if fear was keeping me from something that mattered deeply.
On the day when the Edinburgh event was to take place, I woke to horrifying news: a terror attack on Jews at a Chanukah celebration at Bondi Beach in Sydney. My heart broke for the victims and their families. Suddenly, my unease about going into Edinburgh no longer felt imagined.
Scotland’s Jewish community is small, only a few thousand people. Every gathering carries weight and meaning. It is a world apart from New York City, where I grew up surrounded by a vast Jewish population compared to most parts of the world. That evening, I saw photos posted on a Jewish community page—images of people standing together in St Andrew Square, watching the menorah being lit. In the depth of the Scottish winter, where darkness arrives early and lingers long, the light felt symbolic in a way that went beyond ritual. It........