And then there were six- and Rosh Hashanah.

And then there were six and Rosh Hashanah.

And then there were six. Suddenly the coronavirus has now imposed its limitations, setting its clearly defined boundaries because, according to the latest spike in figures, we've just got to make do with only six family members or friends in any kind of environment. So if you find yourself in your local drinking hostelry tonight and somebody decides to hold an impromptu party including one or two more extended members of their family, then you'll jolly well have to tell them that it's cancelled.

After a seemingly indefinite period of time now firm conclusions have now been reached, the numbers have literally been crunched, the scientific data has worked everything out for us and if you dare include any more than six you'll have to expect the ultimate fine or sanction. Now there is a school of thinking here that if the big department stores in the West End of London are allowing hundreds and thousands of people through their hallowed doors then why on earth are the Great British public have been restricted to a mere six?

We are not quite at breaking point yet but the longer that the pandemic continues to implement all these restrictions and strictures on our everyday living then eventually something will have to give. But for some of us the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah which begins this Saturday, will now be overshadowed by an emotionally draining global disease that doesn't really look as if it'll end at any point in the immediate future.

The Jewish high holy days are one of the most important and sacred festivals of the year, a time for families to come together, much-beloved prayers and chants to be intoned resonantly and repentance for sins to be proclaimed from all four corners of the globe. It is the time of the year when the ram's horn(the shofar) is blown with such stentorian conviction that across the land every Jew will hear it clearly and upliftingly.

But this year will be quite unlike any other we'll ever experience or encounter again - or hopefully never again. The truth is that our local family synagogue(shul) will not be welcoming any members of its congregation because the risk to health takes understandable priority to any other consideration. So there will be none of that familiar exchange of humorous quips about work, the latest fashions on show in the synagogue and obvious discussion about the most historic and incredible year of all time.

The truth is none of our family will be allowed to sit next down to each other wearing the warmly protective shawl or tallit around our shoulders nor the kippa or couple or head covering our heads. We will not be mesmerised by the stunning singing of our choir, nor the rabbi's stirring and thought- provoking sermons. We will not be allowed into the inner sanctum of this holiest of holy days, the sharing of heartfelt thoughts on Yom Kippur and of course the Torah itself, that loveliest piece of ancient literature brought to vivid life yet again for the delectation of those who just want to reflect and ponder on the year so far. It is a year that some of us, even now, are convinced, beggars belief.

For some of us it is hard to believe how any of us are going to negotiate the one Jewish festival where the ones we'll always love, won't be with us because of some mysterious infection that has now rendered most of us speechless. Still, we'll cope because we have to do and we will. We will tune into our video conference call which goes by the name of Zoom, gaze at those images that remind us of the 1970s TV quiz show Celebrity Squares and laugh out loudly, chuckle privately at the sheer absurdity of it all and then just take a deep breath.

We will of course look around our living rooms and then find the right words to describe our scrambled emotions. Of course it isn't right and of course it feels awkward and uncomfortable. But then you realise that you're at home and with your immediate family so nothing could be better than that surely. The surroundings though are not the ones you've been accustomed to for as long as you can remember and this may be the time for re-framing our thinking, re-adjusting our focus and accept the status quo for what it is.

So we'll close our eyes in a state of considerable incredulity, stare down at our prayer books and delve deep into our subconscious for some kind of clarity, a plausible answer and then sigh with contentment. Because quite clearly this is not the end of the world and we're still together albeit not with the rest of our precious family. We'll point at the TV screens and then, from time to time Zoom will freeze and now we'll be confronted with inanimate humans who had looked as though they were acknowledging us and responding to us before temporarily losing contact with us.

There will now be the comforting realisation that the shofar will be blown as that yearly heralding of the Jewish New Year. The rabbis will clutch at their tallit, calmly moving this wonderful garment over their heads and then davening reverentially. At this point in the Rosh Hashanah service the congregation would have stood to their feet for what may seem the umpteenth time to sing powerfully from the bottom of their hearts. And then some will be visibly moved by the occasion because this is deeply harmonious and gloriously special.

And yet not this year because the number six has become fashionable and no more than six. Most synagogues would normally accommodate hundreds of worshippers on all the Jewish high holy days but not this one. Of course it'll be ever so bewildering and just inappropriate because this isn't the way it should be. We know that but we'll get there and we will use the power of a positive mindset.

The inexplicable can never be reasoned with since it is incomprehensible. The Hebrew words, sentences and paragraphs will naturally be the same as they've always been. However the Torah will be conspicuous by its absence and the bimah something that has to be imagined in our minds. Of course we'll smile and we've got to eat the apple and honey for life is deliciously sweet. We'll try to pretend we're in shul and then be excessively grateful our health, our family and our friends. We may have to accept the number six but our blessings will be countless. Chag semach and a happy, healthy Jewish New Year to all of you.

Incidentally, when was Zoom ever mentioned in the Torah and make sure that shofar is blown powerfully with all your heart and soul because sooner or later Covid 19 may decide to do a runner and just disappear permanently.