More than 1,000 people gathered at the Bondi Beach Pavilion in Sydney on Monday evening, the dawn of the second night of Chanukah, telegraphing to one and all that darkness would never be allowed to drown out the light.
They came just 24 hours after Sunday’s terrorist attack on Chabad-Lubavitch of Bondi’s “Chanukah at the Sea” event, during which two black-clad terrorists shot and killed 15 innocent people, including Chabad Rabbi Eli Schlanger, an elderly Holocaust survivor and a 10-year-old girl, injuring dozens more.
A banner with Schlanger’s face, emblazoned with the message the slain rabbi had shared with Chabad.org just months earlier regarding the appropriate response to antisemitism in Australia—and anywhere, for that matter—flew beside them: “Be more Jewish, act more Jewish and appear more Jewish.”
With his words and his actions, Schlanger transmitted a teaching of the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory: that the world very badly needs the Jewish people’s light, the eternal light of the Chanukah menorah. Its light cannot be shared by hiding—it must be used to illuminate the world.
The message of the Chanukah menorah, the Rebbe wrote, “is a timely and reassuring” one, “for the forces of darkness are ever present.” They lurk in the hearts and minds of men with long-guns in Sydney, and in the “insidious erosion of time-honored values and principles that are at the foundation of any decent human society.”
“Needless to say, darkness is not chased away by brooms and sticks, but by illumination,” the Rebbe explained. “Our Sages said, ‘A little light expels a lot of darkness.’”
That is exactly what the crowd in Bondi was there to do. Not to cower, not to protest or call for retribution, but to grieve for the fallen with a proud display of their Jewishness. To light the menorah for the second night of Chanukah, and thereby bring a tangible spiritual light into a place of utter darkness.
At the same site where Jewish blood had been spilled not 24 hours earlier, Chabad Rabbi Levi Wolff of Sydney’s Central Synagogue spoke of the Rebbe’s response to tragedy and the message of Chanukah, before lighting a giant menorah. Jewish men and women took the opportunity to perform a mitzvah in memory of those killed, wrapping tefillin with yeshivah students and accepting menorahs and Shabbat candles to light at home.
The event captured the overwhelming sentiment of the Australian Jewish community, and with it the Jewish world. Grief, shock, loss, and a refusal to let the terrorists win by giving in with muted expressions of Judaism and Chanukah celebrations.
‘Now It’s Even More Important’
The terrorist attack had specifically targeted the most visible, joyous expression of Jewish identity. It wasn’t a synagogue that was the target, but a public menorah lighting at perhaps the most famous of all of Sydney’s landmarks. This was Jewish Australians wearing their faith proudly as Australians.
For those in the Northern Hemisphere, Chanukah means warm coats, hot cocoa and steaming latkes, perhaps with apple sauce. For Australians, Chanukah comes in the heat of summer, where a beach is the most appropriate venue for a menorah lighting, not an ice-skating rink.
So what says “Jewish Australian” more than a Chanukah lighting at the most famous beach in the world? A statement of Australian Jews saying: We’re Jewish, but we’re also one of you.
But it was precisely there that tragedy struck.
For rabbis and lay leaders in the shockwaves of the attack, there was a choice: Cancel everything? Or somehow continue with a community still reeling from trauma and shock?
“Our goal is to allow people to celebrate being Jewish,” said Rabbi Menachem Aron of Chabad of RARA (Rural and Regional Australia), who was in Wagga Wagga, N.S.W., with two of his children when news of the attack broke. He had a multi-city tour planned—Cootamundra, Dubbo, Tamworth, Coffs Harbour, and ending at the Sunshine Coast—with Chanukah parties and menorah lightings scheduled throughout.
“Now it’s even more important,” Aron told Chabad.org.
But the path forward wasn’t simple. “All of our plans are subject to advice from relevant bodies,” he acknowledged. Sister organizations—Chabad of Northern Queensland, Chabad of the Sunshine Coast, Chabad of the Hunter and Central Coast, led by Rabbi Yossi Rodal—were all “in the same boat.”
The decision of whether to proceed was being made community by community, event by event, in consultation with law enforcement and security agencies. But a pattern was emerging: across Australia, Jewish communities were choosing to do more, not less.
Melbourne: 2,000 Children and Growing
In Melbourne, home to Australia’s largest Jewish community, the response was swift and resolute. At Chabad Youth, Rabbi Moshe Kahn was deciding whether to proceed with Camp Gan Israel, the largest Jewish summer camp in the world, with 2,000 children expected over the next six weeks. Camp was set to begin the day after the attack.
“Every part of us wants to say: let’s pause, let’s delay camp,” Kahn and his wife Dina, along with camp directors Rabbi Menachem and Miri Lipskier, wrote to parents in a letter sent late Sunday night. “The emotions we are all feeling right now are real, raw, and overwhelming.”
But after consultation with police, government officials, and the Community Security Group (CSG), they made their decision to not only go ahead with camp but to not reduce a single day, a single activity, or a single moment of Jewish joy.
“Continuing does not mean ignoring what has happened,” Kahn said. “It does not mean pretending everything is okay. It means choosing strength over paralysis, light over darkness, and resilience over fear.”
The camp would proceed with enhanced security measures: increased physical security guards on site, an ongoing police presence, and a psychologist on the campground to help children and staff process trauma. A trauma specialist held sessions with all counselors on how to support children during this time.
“This is how we teach our children resilience,” Kahn said. “Not by hiding the pain—but by showing them how we carry it. Together.”
And together, the community proceeded. YJP (Young Jewish Professionals) in Melbourne didn’t just continue their planned events—they added one.
On Sunday night, as news of the attack spread, the Chabad community synagogue, the Yeshiva Centre, filled with people. At 10 p.m., the community came together to say Psalms for the recovery of the dozens in surgery after the attack and light a giant menorah. It was packed. Standing room only. Even as police presence surrounded the shul.
Perth: A Bigger, Better Location
Three thousand miles away, on Australia’s west coast, in Perth, Rabbi Shalom White of Chabad of Western Australia faced a different calculation. Security advisors had made it clear that the original location for their “Chanukah in the Park” was no longer viable. The threat assessment had changed overnight.
For a moment, cancellation seemed like the prudent choice. Instead, White and his team found a new venue. A larger, nicer space that could accommodate even more families indoors with easier monitoring for police. They expected maybe 200 to 300 people.
“Obviously everyone in the community is shaken up,” White told Chabad.org as he ran from one event to another. “All events we are doing are in complete connection with the police and federal and local law enforcement.”
The country’s law enforcement has taken the security seriously, White noted, coordinating with federal authorities and tactical units. Around 30 police officers were on hand. But Chabad’s “Chanukah in the Park” event—complete with kosher food, a bounce castle, petting zoo, and face painting—would be bigger than originally envisioned. Some 500 people ended up attending and White noticed an awakening:
“More and more people are reaching out and asking about coming to our events and how they can continue the festival and light the menorah at home and how they can do mitzvos in general,” he said. “It’s not just us rabbis who want to continue, the community are the ones pushing for us to be able to come together.”
Brisbane: Dancing Through Tears
In Brisbane, Rabbi Levi Jaffe was in the middle of the biggest Chanukah celebration his community had ever seen. More than 1,000 people had gathered for the first night, the largest crowd they’d ever drawn. Then the news from Sydney arrived.
“You could see the ripple of shock go through the crowd,” Jaffe recalled. “But even as it was happening, people—myself included—didn’t quite understand the gravity of it all.”
Security was already on site. Within minutes, police presence tripled.
“We decided to continue with the event. We couldn’t allow this to affect the simcha of Chanukah,” Jaffe said. “Obviously we’re all devastated but the show must go on. The community needs this celebration.”
After the menorah lighting, after the politicians spoke, the band—made up of Israeli expats—approached Jaffe asking if they should skip the dancing that historically succeeds the lighting.
Jaffe thought of the response of Chabad chassidim to the news of the Rebbe’s [Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory] heart attack on Simchat Torah—the most joyous day on the Jewish calendar—in 1978. Then, it was to continue with simcha and now it will be too.
Security assessed the situation and gave the green light. So they danced. “Even though like in '78 we were crying inside, we were able to dance,” Jaffe said.
The next morning at 6 a.m. shacharit, Jaffe arrived to find flowers outside his synagogue—left by concerned Brisbane residents, Jewish and non-Jewish. At the morning service, he told those who came: “You being here this morning is the best response. We will be stronger from this.”
RARA: From a Humble Journey to a National Message
Back in rural New South Wales, Rabbi Aron’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
The original plan had been modest: a quiet journey with his son and daughter from Wagga Wagga to Coffs Harbour, stopping in a few small towns along the way. Small gatherings in communities where Jewish life is sparse, where a traveling rabbi bringing Chanukah joy might be the only Jewish event some families attend all year.
Then the attack happened. And then the media came calling.
Forty phone calls. Radio stations. TV news programs. Local outlets and national networks. Everyone wanted to know the same thing: What would the traveling Chanukah rabbi do now?
“Now it’s even more important to show our Jewish pride; to light those candles,” Aron told them. Again and again, on air after on air, the same message.
What was meant to be a message from an intimate family road trip is now being beamed across the airwaves in Australia. Tens of thousands of Australians, perhaps hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, were hearing a Chabad rabbi explain why he wouldn’t cancel, why he couldn’t cancel.
“The goal is to bring everyone together, bring kosher food, share words of warmth,” Aron told Chabad.org between media interviews.
‘Be Proud to Be a Jew’
For Barry Feldman and countless other Australian Jews, the hours after the attack were marked by an internal battle.
“If it could happen in Bondi, it could happen in East St. Kilda,” father of two Feldman said, referring to Melbourne’s heavily Jewish neighborhood also near a famous beach like its sister in Bondi. The attack felt close, intimate, possible anywhere. Just last year, a local synagogue was firebombed, a culmination of years of increasing antisemitic incidents countrywide since Oct. 7.
The political response only added to the pain. “It took the Prime Minister two hours to acknowledge that it was antisemitic; that it was an attack against Jews,” Feldman said.
But as Feldman watched the Jewish community's response unfold, something shifted.
“I was brought up to be a proud Jew and to stand up for myself,” Feldman said. “You can’t give in to the worry. That is just letting them win. Instead, we have to do more. More Torah and mitzvot,” Feldman said.
The tragedy at Bondi Beach was aimed at extinguishing Jewish light at its most visible.The attackers chose the first night, perhaps hoping to cast darkness over the entire festival. But they failed. Instead, the attack ignited something else: a determination to make each subsequent night even brighter.
In Melbourne, 2,000 Jewish children are attending a camp geared to fostering their Jewish identities. They will be singing Jewish songs, making Jewish friends, simply being Jewish. In Perth, families are gathering at a relocated but larger venue, children’s faces painted with dreidels. In rural New South Wales, the Chanukah message is being amplified on the airwaves.
Rabbi Eli Schlanger was going to kindle a giant menorah that first night of Chanukah at Bondi Beach before he was struck down. Though the menorah was not ultimately lit, its light shines forth, spreading its warmth across Australia and throughout the world.
Indeed, the Bondi Beach menorah was supposed to burn in only one place and for only one night, but instead will shine all over the world and for all eight nights, reminding passersby of the miracle of Chanukah and, in the words of the Rebbe, “the triumph of freedom over oppression, of spirit over matter, of light over darkness.”
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