Last week, I called my grandmother before Shabbat, as I do every week. Nearly 90 years old, she is a remarkable person — ever-positive, always smiling and an inspiration to our family and to so many others. Unfortunately, her plans for Shabbat had been thrown off course that day. Normally, she spends the weekend with a member of the family, yet at very short notice they had contracted Covid, so she was afraid that she would have to spend Friday night alone. In the end, we sorted alternative plans for her, so all was well. 

But what really struck me was the evident distress in her voice at being alone again on a Friday night. To me, it sounded as if the trauma of the first lockdown in 2020 had reawakened itself within her. And it made me realise just how raw the mental scars of that period still are for so many. 

The impact of isolation on our elderly relatives and the troubled mental health of our teenagers from a lack of normal social interaction did not disappear when that lockdown ended. The residual effects of it remain powerful. And that has serious implications for how we now move forward as a community after the end of most formal, legal, restrictions.

The point, I think, is this. The longer we continue to live our lives under the notion that restrictions on our freedom will one day lead us to a Covid-zero Neverland, the longer we continue to delude ourselves — and the more long-term damage we cause to ourselves, our families and our communities. I will reiterate, as so many have throughout the pandemic, that we have a basic responsibility to save lives, as well as an obligation in Jewish law to keep the law of the land. I am proud of the fact that hundreds of Jewish communities have led the way in keeping people safe in shuls and other communal spaces. Yet, I think that the time has now come for us to take an honest look at ourselves and ask whether we may have reached the point where our approach may sometimes be causing more harm than good.

We live in an age in which fear is spread with such ease. This is particularly the case in shuls and other communal spaces. Beyond the long-lasting personal trauma still felt by so many from those long periods of isolation, our communities will remain threatened by apathy, disengagement and disconnection if we continue to let a fear of freedom spread unabated. I worry that the notion of ever-present Covid restrictions has become so accepted in some parts of the community that the possibility of a full return to “normal” continues to drift ever further away. 

Of course, the most critical thing here is balance. To that end, I am very pleased that leading communal organisations are seeking to encourage communities to find that balance in their approach to local Covid policy. I also acknowledge the fact that there are many who understandably remain nervous of overly full shuls. We should be sensitive to this, providing outdoor seating where possible, good ventilation and space for people to space out. 

Yet, I would urge shuls to sensitively attempt to now shift the balance in favour of the need to bring people back into a normal, welcoming shul environment, rather than putting up further barriers to in-person social interaction. There is enough residual trauma present in our community already without us adding to it further.

If there is one thing this pandemic has taught us, it is to expect the unexpected. We now know that there is no silver bullet with the ability to destroy the Covid microbes in one fell swoop. Instead, what we have learnt is a measure of humility. We have learnt that mortals with all their technological superiority can be reduced to hording toilet paper by a nearly invisible micro-organism that shows a remarkable propensity to outwit the same great human minds. So let’s learn this basic message of humility too. 

Freedom will not arise from embracing ever more Covid restrictions. Instead, it will come from a sense of balance in the face of the competing responsibilities we have to keep people safe, yet at the same time doing whatever we can to heal the collective trauma that people like my grandmother still feel so powerfully. And ultimately, genuine freedom will also come from an acceptance that the Almighty, rather than human beings, is in control of what happens next. 

Rabbi Dr Yoni Birnbaum is rabbi of Kehillas Toras Chaim synagogue in Hendon, London.