‘WHAT’S the problem? It’s just a costume!” On Friday, a post circulated on Facebook of a man and his young children in costume. Dressed as a “historical figure”, he was shocked to find himself admonished for his chosen outfit. The man was struck by the hypocrisy of the “tolerant left” for having the gall to insult a family. He was wearing a disturbingly accurate SS uniform – his five-year-old son was dressed as Hitler.

You would think, would hope, that it would be easy for most people of conscience to condemn the costume. Plenty didn’t see the issue. “It’s Halloween for God’s sake. Those liberals will ruin anything ...”

Halloween is meant to be for spooks, monsters and the frightening things the human mind is capable of conjuring. Antisemitism is real, it’s material, it’s happening now. Costumes aren’t supposed to represent ideologies. They’re not meant to be dog-whistles that speak to the growing numbers expressing anti-Jewish sentiment and toxic stereotypes. A costume is meant to be fun – not to remind many of the genuine horrors within society that are not confined to the history books, but are playing out daily.

When you spend time in shul, the thing that strikes you is how much it feels like a refuge from the modern world. People gather together, in kippot and tallit of all colours and styles, cantillating in unison, praying together in song. It feels otherworldly, it feels safe. Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath, is from sundown on Friday until the first three stars appear on Saturday evening and Havdalah ends the holy day and marks the start of the rest of the week. Shabbat commemorates the creation of the universe, commemorates the rescue of Israelites from slavery and offers respite from labour and the demands of the world. It’s a day of rest, a day of delights. Time is spent with family, in community, eating together, sharing in one another’s company. It’s the jewel in the Jewish week. How bitter it is to think that this morning service was cut short in Pittsburgh by a man so blinded by hate and conspiracy, that he walked into a synagogue with an AR-15 rifle and started shooting. For the people of Pittsburgh, their Shabbat service became the most deadly incident of antisemitic violence on American soil.

On Saturday, Shabbat morning, the Jewish communities of the city’s Squirrel Hill would have been coming together in prayer, readying themselves for the weekly Torah portion. This week’s portion was Vayeira, from the book of Genesis. In it, three angels visit Abraham and Sarah and tell them they will have a child. Later, Abraham bargains with the Almighty over his plans to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah. Unlike Noah, who is told of God’s plan and dutifully builds the ark, Abraham answers back. Somehow, he finds the courage to speak up. He calls out the divine when he sees injustice.

Whether you are religious or not, there is a lesson here about our obligations to one another, and how we must speak up for the persecuted, whether or not you have anything in common, whatever the consequences.

The Tree of Life Synagogue massacre is shocking in its senseless brutality, and yet it seems like the culmination of the inevitable.

In 2017, the Anti-Defamation League charted the skyrocketing of antisemitic incidents. Is it any wonder when the window of discourse has shifted so radically that there have been many fawning interviews with “hip”, “dapper”, “well-dressed” neo-Nazis and right-wing extremists in the mainstream media?

Just 14 months ago in Charlottesville, white supremacists protesting the removal of a Confederate statute marched through the streets, waving torches and shouting, “Our blood, our soil!” and, “Jews will not replace us!”.

Such behaviour even five years ago, while existent, was primarily confined to private spaces. No longer. Hate has stepped out into the sunshine, unafraid.

As for the far right in Charlottesville, the president called them “very fine people”. In the months since, he’s made several references to “globalists”, a thinly-veiled codeword evoking the stereotype of the rich, evil Jew. A stereotype that has existed since antiquity and culminated in the conspiracies that ultimately led to the extermination of six million. When the president says “globalist”, he knows who he’s talking to. Likewise, when he refers to himself as a nationalist. He knows who his supporters are. He knows which tones resonate with them. It is no coincidence that the migration of this hateful rhetoric from the margins to the mainstream has imbued gun-toting racists, xenophobes and antisemites with renewed purpose.

To an outsider, contemporary America seems unrecognisable. As the midterms approach, the rise in right-wing violence prompts reflection on the events of the last two years. We’ve all seen the videos, all seen the tweets, all read the stories. We’ve watched antisemitic conspiracy theories pulsing through our networks. We’ve watched minorities harassed daily, reported to the police for no reason.

We’ve watched police brutality. We’ve watched the white nationalists weaving poison through the streets. We’ve come to recognise the aftermath of a massacre as it ripples out across the news networks and through social media. As outsiders, we’ve watched in horror as hate continues to consume “the land of the free”.

Amidst the chaos, the midterms are a candle, a beacon of hope that might offer something to aim for beyond the rising waters of hate and intolerance. Though a favourable result won’t stem the waters alone. Rebuilding the defences and repairing the damage needs many hands. This is not the world most of us want, so it’s on all of us to reach in and help. We know where this rhetoric leads and this is our time to intervene. We all must find the moral courage to call out antisemitism when we see it. To all those who are suffering in Pittsburgh and beyond, you are in my thoughts. May their memory be a blessing.