Why do Jews always have to be first? Barely had the word ‘lockdown’ bumbled from Boris’s lips last Saturday night than the Chief Rabbi was up on his pulpit proclaiming synagogues closed, weddings off, barmitzvahs banned and circumcisions to be performed only on pain of neonates, with just the father in attendance.
Next morning, Cardinal Vincent Nichols and his bishops briskly challenged the decision. The Archbishop of Westminster called the permit to open churches just for private prayer “a source of deep anguish” with serious consequences for the mental health of many worshippers. “We ask the government to produce this evidence that justifies the cessation of acts of public worship,” he said.
Muslim leaders duly followed suit. But our rabbis had already slammed down the shutters. Monday morning at shul, a friend told me she had come to hear the reading from the Torah, knowing it might be the last for quite a while.
In extremis we revert to type, declaring ourselves Her Majesty’s Most Loyal and Obedient Jews, ready to go one big stride further than anyone else in doing her bidding. Lockdown, says HMG? We Jews run to the river and throw away the key.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m not about to have a bash at rabbis (and after three days’ reflection, the Chief backtracked, imploring HMG to let shuls stay open). In times like these we need to pull together. Since I nurture nothing but warm feelings for all fellow-Jews in their dazzling diversity, from Masortists to mezzo-sopranos (well, up to a high D), I will do my best in the coming weeks to project nothing but happiness and encouragement as we stare at four blank walls and wonder when we will next see the inside of a shul.
A few hotheads in my sect are threatening to gather for private prayer in full shawls and leather straps outside the gates every morning. If I can’t stop them, I might just join them.
There was a beautiful moment last time around when, sitting on distanced benches outside St Peter’s Church, Belsize Park, with a friend who had survived severe Covid, I saw a delivery lad leap off his bike and run in to join us amid the tombstones. Within moments, he was on his knees, brow to the ground, reciting the fifth of the Muslim daily submissions. I felt so uplifted by this Sabbath-day union of all three monotheisms that I would have asked him home for seudah shlishit, were it not for the wretched, never-ending Covid.
Whatever, the beatific moment taught me to count my blessings in the gloom, so here’s ten that I’ve collected to get us through the next month.
1 One peep from the JC and Grant Shapps dumped his ghetto-making congestion charge across the North Circular and went back to spotting trains on HS2. (Seen any yet, Shappsy?)
2 Halloween and Guy Fawkes are off for the duration. One is borderline idolatrous, the other offensive to Cardinal Nichols. Good Covid riddance.
3 The dentist has cancelled your next appointment.
4 Unlike last time, the kids are in school all day, leaving room for creative thought and constructive negotiation. I’m having a new website built. Can’t decide which rabbi to ask to fix the mezuzah. Who says a website doesn’t need a mezuzah?
5 Friends of Jeremy Corbyn called a rally and no-one turned up. Not even Diane Abbott, who has yet to be elected to the Bet Din.
6 Those of us who have been spared Covid are remarking how much better food has tasted since the blight descended. Could be that we’re spending more time cooking? Could also be that we’re devoting more to time eating with our loved ones? Drinking, likewise. I have discovered at least four worthwhile new wines. Roll out the barrel.
7 Recent events remind us all to be suitably dressed on Zoom conferences for the avoidance of online embarrassment. Myself, I opt for full shul gear, minus top-hat. Before a call I also make sure to perform the Jewish male genuflection, tapping either breast pocket for glasses and phone and then below the belt (this is very recent) to ensure flies are zipped up.
8 Forget television, there’s nothing on. My wife’s curiosity about a 127-part Turkish cop series totally proves my point.
9 Records ride again. In preference to radio’s irritating presenters and predictable playlists, industry data suggests we are turning back to LPs, CDs and streaming services, or to making our own music at home. A word to the wise: discourage any child from learning the piccolo. Covid will be over before he or she emits a civilised sound.
10 Coffee is king again (sorry, Your Maj). Not since the glory days of Swift, Addison and Defoe has the murky liquid yielded such clarity and purpose of thought. Enjoy lockdown.
