In the summer of 2014 the majority of us were glued to our TV screens watching in dismay and fear as yet another Gaza war unfolded. As anti-Israel protests became a common sight on the streets of the UK, members of the community were making frequent and frantic calls to family and friends in Israel checking everyone had survived the latest rocket attack.
This Sunday will be another day of remembrance. In one of the most moving public Jewish occasions of the year, ex-servicemen and women, an ever-reducing number of aged veterans, will parade past the Cenotaph on Whitehall.
I'm sitting on a sun-blushed patio, sipping a mug of hot camomile tea and gazing out at mile upon mile of rolling, sun-scorched hills. The herby scent of fresh mountain air fills the lungs and does much to soothe the soul.
In short, I feel like I've arrived in paradise. Especially since the only sound to ripple the silence is soft, sibilant bird-song.
The room was full of people, their voices increasing in volume as each person sought to make him- or herself heard above the noise. I gazed up at the sea of faces, snatches of conversation washing over me - holidays, weddings, a burst of laughter that struck me like a punch in the gut.
Whether or not he was the greatest musician of his generation is subject to debate. Leonard Bernstein himself certainly thought he was. Was he one of the greatest Jewish musicians of the 20th century? No doubt whatsoever.
I completed my accountancy qualifications, worked my way to a senior position at a leading US investment bank, and I was able to negotiate working part-time after my twin daughters were born. I had a stable, well-paid job and good career prospects. However, something was missing. I wanted to give my girls more time and attention than even my part-time arrangement would allow.
In July 2013, I travelled from London to Berlin to visit the lake house my great-grandfather had built. Picking up a rental car at Schönefeld airport, I headed west along the ring road, through Berlin's western suburbs, and into the Brandenburg countryside.
According to Howard Jacobson, The Merchant of Venice is not antisemitic. Embarrassing maybe, but not antisemitic.
"I never really thought it was," the author said. "When I was one of 20 Jewish boys at the non-Jewish school we were at, we did The Merchant of Venice and we became all very self-conscious about the 'Hath not a Jew eyes' speech and all that.
If Rabbi Julia Neuberger and her colleagues looked particularly comfortable at prayer during the recent High Holidays, it was thanks to angelic intervention. Not, as you may or may not think, angels from heaven, but Angels of Hendon.