Nearly a year after a gunman killed two worshippers at a Manchester synagogue on Yom Kippur, some 800 people gathered to remember Melvin Cravitz and Adrian Daulby — and to reckon with a grief that has not diminished but deepened. The memorial, held on the Jewish religious calendar rather than the secular anniversary, became as much a testimony to fear as to loss: community leaders, survivors, and bereaved families spoke of a Britain in which Jewish people increasingly hide their identity, live behind growing security, and feel less safe than they did in the immediate aftermath of the attack. I
Jewish community marks Heaton Park synagogue attack anniversary amid rising antisemitism fears
Two people killed (Melvin Cravitz and Adrian Daulby) and three injured (Andrew Franks, Bernard Agyemang, Yoni Finlay) during the attack; survivors and bereaved families continue to experience trauma and psychological impact.
The wounds remain, but so does our spirit.
Mark
Why hold the memorial now, in August, when the attack happened in October?
Mimi
Because the attack happened on Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar. That falls in September this year, so the community wanted to mark it on the religious anniversary rather than the secular one. They also wanted to hold a public memorial before the High Holy Days, to make sure the wider society remembers what happened and hears what the community needs.
Luke
That's a practical answer, but it also means the community is living with this twice—once on the actual date, and once on the religious calendar. That's a kind of ongoing weight.
Mimi
Yes. And Rabbi Walker said they wanted to call for change in society at the same time. This wasn't just about remembrance.
Mark
What did he mean by calling for change?
Mimi
He said the Jewish community feels less safe now than it did right after the attack. Rising antisemitism, combined with what he called a lack of action to deal with core problems, has left people feeling increasingly vulnerable.
Luke
But what does "lack of action" mean specifically? The source doesn't detail what actions the community is asking for beyond Rayner's general call for a "whole of society approach."
Mimi
That's fair. The speeches focused more on the emotional reality—people hiding their identity, increased security, death threats—than on specific policy demands.
Mark
Yoni Finlay said his son has faced death threats. Is that common?
Mimi
The source doesn't say how widespread it is. Finlay mentioned it as his own son's experience, and Dresner mentioned receiving antisemitic abuse herself. But we don't have numbers on how many people in the community are experiencing threats.
Luke
Right. We know it's happening, we know it's serious enough that people are hiding their identity, but we don't know the scale.
Mark
What struck me was Finlay's account of the attack itself—lying in the foyer with four organs damaged, making a promise to himself.
Mimi
He was shot by a stray police bullet while helping barricade the doors. He survived, but he's living with that injury and that memory. And he's saying the community survived because they had each other, not because anything changed in the wider world.
Luke
That's the tension, isn't it? The community is showing resilience, but the conditions that made the attack possible—the antisemitism, the climate that encouraged the attacker—those haven't changed. If anything, they've gotten worse.
Mimi
Exactly. Raphi Bloom said "the wounds remain, but so does our spirit." But spirit alone doesn't make you safe.
Le Pouls
- On the holiest day of the Jewish year, a gunman entered Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation and killed two men who stood to defend their synagogue, wounding three others — one struck by a stray police bullet while barricading the doors.
- Nearly a year on, the community's sense of safety has not recovered but retreated: Jewish people report hiding their identity in public, and even a survivor's college-age son has faced death threats.
- Bereaved families describe receiving messages that justified the murders or blamed the victims' religion — a cruelty that speakers at the memorial said should alarm all of British society, not only its Jewish members.
- Senior figures including the Chief Rabbi and the Communities Secretary warned that the attacker was emboldened by a broader culture of antisemitism, and called for a whole-of-society response to address hatred at its roots rather than only its violent expressions.
- The memorial itself — marked by empty chairs, heavy security, and accounts of lives lived more guardedly — stood as evidence that the community endures, but the question of whether British Jews feel free to be visible and themselves remains painfully open.
Nearly a year after a gunman killed two worshippers at a Manchester synagogue on Yom Kippur, some 800 people gathered to remember Melvin Cravitz and Adrian Daulby — and to reckon with a grief that has not diminished but deepened. The memorial, held on the Jewish religious calendar rather than the secular anniversary, became as much a testimony to fear as to loss: community leaders, survivors, and bereaved families spoke of a Britain in which Jewish people increasingly hide their identity, live behind growing security, and feel less safe than they did in the immediate aftermath of the attack. It is an old and painful question that the gathering placed before the wider public — whether a society can truly mourn an act of hatred while leaving its roots undisturbed.
Nearly a year after a gunman opened fire at Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation in Manchester, the Jewish community gathered on a Monday to remember two men lost and to speak honestly about what has followed. On October 2, 2025 — Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar — Jihad al-Shamie entered the synagogue. Melvin Cravitz and Adrian Daulby died defending their place of worship. Three others were wounded, among them Yoni Finlay, struck by a stray police bullet while helping to barricade the doors. About 800 people attended the memorial, including Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis and Communities Secretary Angela Rayner. Two chairs sat empty, bearing the names of the dead.
What emerged from the speakers was not reassurance but its opposite. Rabbi Daniel Walker said plainly that the Jewish community feels less safe now than it did in the immediate aftermath of the attack. Sherelle Dresner, speaking for the family of Melvin Cravitz, described the lonely and overwhelming world her family now inhabits — and disclosed that she had received antisemitic messages justifying the murder. Yoni Finlay, who survived with four organs damaged, recalled making himself a promise as he lay in the synagogue foyer: he would not die there. In a later interview, he acknowledged that his own son, a college student, has faced death threats, and that Jewish people are increasingly hiding their identity in public.
Chief Rabbi Mirvis drew a direct line from the wider social climate to the attack itself, warning that hateful thoughts become hate speech, and hate speech is only one step from hate crime. Angela Rayner called antisemitism a crisis for all of society and urged a whole-of-society approach to root it out at its foundations. A message from King Charles affirmed that hatred can never prevail over shared humanity.
The community, present in Manchester for more than two centuries, declared it would stand tall and united. But the service itself — the security, the empty chairs, the accounts of hidden identities — measured how much has changed. The congregation is still gathering, still speaking. Whether its members feel safe enough to remain fully visible is a question the memorial raised but could not answer.
Nearly a year after a gunman opened fire at Heaton Park Hebrew Congregation in Manchester, the Jewish community gathered on Monday to remember two men killed in the attack and to confront a question that has only grown more urgent in the months since: whether Britain's Jews feel safer now, or less so.
On October 2, 2025, Yom Kippur—the holiest day in the Jewish calendar—Jihad al-Shamie entered the synagogue. Melvin Cravitz and Adrian Daulby died defending their place of worship. Three others were wounded: Andrew Franks, Bernard Agyemang, and Yoni Finlay, who was struck by a stray police bullet while helping to barricade the doors. About 800 people attended Monday's memorial service, including Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis and Communities Secretary Angela Rayner. Two chairs sat empty, bearing the names of the dead.
The gathering was held not on the secular anniversary but on the Jewish religious calendar, allowing the community to mark the loss before the High Holy Days and to speak publicly about what has followed. What emerged from the speakers was a portrait of a community that has grown more fearful, not less. Rabbi Daniel Walker said plainly that the Jewish community feels less safe now than it did in the immediate aftermath of the attack. Rising antisemitism, combined with what he described as insufficient action to address root causes, has left members of the congregation and British Jews more broadly feeling increasingly vulnerable.
Sherelle Dresner, speaking for the family of Melvin Cravitz, described the "lonely" and "overwhelming" new world her family inhabits. She spoke of a phrase used by survivors and bereaved families of other terrorist attacks—"a club that no-one wants to be a part of." She also disclosed that she had received antisemitic abuse, and that some messages justified the murder or blamed it on Cravitz's religion. "These messages should worry us all," she said. Yet she also praised those who had run toward danger on the day to save others, including a woman who helped Melvin as he was attacked.
Yoni Finlay, one of the three injured, spoke of lying in the synagogue foyer with four organs badly damaged by the bullet that had passed through him. He made himself a promise that day: he would not die there. But he could not have survived alone. "We could only do this with the support of the people around us," he said. Later, in an interview with BBC Radio 4, he acknowledged the reality many British Jews now live with. "I don't think things feel safer," he said. "I think we certainly live behind ever increasing gates, more security than we've ever had. Jewish people are having to hide their identity. Even my own son, who's in college at the moment, has faced death threats."
Chief Rabbi Mirvis connected the attack to the broader climate. "The attacker came here feeling positive, comfortable in his ways, encouraged and inspired by a tone of deep antisemitism within our society," he said. "We know so well how hateful thoughts can be translated into hate speech which, in turn, is only one step away from hate crime." Angela Rayner, the Communities Secretary, called antisemitism "a crisis for us all" and said "any attack on Jews is an attack on all of us." She called for a "whole of society approach" to root out the hatred from its foundations, taking on extremists and bearing down on those who seek to divide communities.
Raphi Bloom, chair of the Yom Kippur Commemoration, framed the service as more than remembrance—it was about resilience and ensuring that Jewish life continues to flourish. "The wounds remain, but so does our spirit," he said. The community, he added, had been in Manchester for more than two centuries. "As Jews we will stand tall, united, proud and strong." A message from King Charles was read aloud, saying that the shock and sorrow of that day remain undiminished, and that "hatred can never prevail over our shared humanity."
Yet the service itself was a measure of how much has changed. The security, the empty chairs, the accounts of hidden identities and death threats—these are the new facts of Jewish life in Britain nearly a year after the attack. The community is still here, still gathering, still speaking. But the question of whether they feel safe enough to stay, to be visible, to be themselves, remains unanswered.
Citations marquantes
The attacker came here feeling positive, comfortable in his ways, encouraged and inspired by a tone of deep antisemitism within our society.— Chief Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis
I don't think things feel safer. I think we certainly live behind ever increasing gates, more security than we've ever had. Jewish people are having to hide their identity.— Yoni Finlay, survivor of the attack
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