Chanukah After Bondi Beach: When Light Did Not Retreat
As Chanukah 5786 began, our hearts were made heavy.
Our Festival of Light opened with unfathomable darkness, as fifteen Jews were brutally murdered al Kiddush Hashem while a public menorah lighting at Bondi Beach was just getting underway.
Among those murdered were two rabbis - shluchim of the Rebbe serving the Jewish community, a Holocaust survivor, and a ten-year-old child. Dozens more were wounded, many critically. Before the menorah could be lit, murderous violence erupted, leaving parents bereaved, spouses widowed, children orphaned, and an entire community profoundly traumatized.
There are no words that make this make sense. And our Emunah and Bitachon (faith and trust) in Hashem, do not ask us to pretend otherwise.
But Chanukah was never about denying the darkness. It was about bringing light into it, and ultimately eradicating it, by allowing that light to shine forth.
This Chanukah, we mourned. We cried. We prayed. For the wounded, for the families whose lives were forever changed, and for the safety of Jewish communities everywhere.
And at the very same time, we did not withdraw from who we are. Not even for a moment. In fact, remarkably, we did exactly the opposite.
Across cities and continents, The Rebbe's Shluchim uplifted and inspired many, gathering crowds to observe and celebrate a Chanukah unlike any other in living memory. Menorahs were lit proudly and publicly. Jewish life was lived openly. Torah ideas were shared and taught. Acts of kindness multiplied. Songs of faith were sung, and the joy of Yiddishkeit carried the days.
This attack was meant to frighten Jews away from public Jewish life. It was meant to make visible Jewish practice feel unsafe, optional, or negotiable. They expected us to shrink into the shadows.
Instead, it magnified the light. Exponentially. Chanukah’s presence was elevated in ways we could not have previously imagined. Menorahs shone more brightly than ever, and the light of Yiddishkeit spread outward with joyful resolve, without hesitation and without apology.
Not as an act of protest, and not to make a statement. But because this is how The Rebbe taught his Chassidim and Shluchim to live. Because this is what our mission demands: not merely to continue bringing light, but to increase its intensity precisely where darkness tried to take hold.
As we reflect on Chanukah 5786, we are reminded that light does not need to shout. It simply needs to be increased.
We continue to pray that Hashem comfort the mourners, heal the wounded, protect our communities, and bring an end to this senseless cruelty. And we commit ourselves to strengthening all that brings light into the world.
And we resolve to strengthen our Shlichut: to increase the study of Torah, the performance of mitzvot, and the spread of light with greater clarity and commitment - precisely in the places where darkness sought to prevail - to hasten the long-awaited arrival of Moshiach, speedily and in our days. Amen.
