Two years ago the world shifted. On that morning so many who went out never came home. The rhythm of ordinary life, of going out and coming in, was broken. And we are still learning how to live in the space that rupture left behind.

The grief that began that day has crossed borders and generations. For Israelis and for Jews around the world it has become a constant ache, the ache of families still waiting, of hearts still fearful, of a world still struggling to find its moral footing.

This week in Manchester that same sense of safety was again shaken. A sacred place, on the holiest day of the Jewish year, turned into a site of violence. Our hearts are with all who mourn, all who fear, and all who continue to guard our communities with courage and devotion.

And yet, even in the shadow of such pain, we turn to words that have carried our people through centuries of loss and longing. “I lift up my eyes to the mountains, from where will my help come?” The psalm does not promise that we will not stumble. It reminds us that our going out and our coming in are never unseen, never forgotten.

To say these words today is not to deny the darkness, but to insist that light still exists. To lift our eyes is to choose hope, even when it feels fragile, to believe that help and healing can rise from one another’s hands.

We honour those whose lives were taken, those who continue to suffer, and those who refuse to let despair define them. May our remembrance be a summons to courage, to compassion, and to peace.

• Delivered by Rabbi Josh Levy and Rabbi Charley Baginsky at the London commemoration to remember all those killed and taken hostage by terrorists on 7 October 2023.