Antisemitic terrorism took something from all of us on Sunday.
The Bondi Beach Attack Was Personal
Antisemitic terrorism took something from all of us on Sunday.
On Sunday, during the holy Jewish high holiday of Hanukkah, two gunmen opened fire on a group of Jewish people celebrating the holiday on Australia’s iconic Bondi Beach.
The terrorist attack was well-planned. The perpetrators — a father and son pair who appear to have been radicalized by ISIS — were heavily armed. The two perpetrators, one of whom appears to have been killed during the aftermath, murdered 15 people in cold blood and injured scores more.
Hundreds of casual beachgoers will find themselves forever changed, going forward. Videos of the attack, circulating on social media like wildfire, captured forever the pure panic, desperation, and abject terror on the face of every person fleeing as the busy beach emptied.
We have all been changed by the terrorist attack on Bondi Beach. A beautiful, sunny, holiday Sunday was shattered by the actions of two heartless, callous, cowards.
Of the victims killed by the terrorists, a beloved Rabbi, his cousin who was also a Rabbi, a little girl, and a young husband, a bystander who, together with his wife, attempted to stop the gunmen but lost his life in the struggle.
One man, Ahmed el-Ahmed, has also emerged from the story as a hero. Dramatic video captured the harrowing moment Mr. Ahmed snuck up behind one of the gunmen, overpowered him, and took his rifle.
Mr. Ahmed, who was shot several times during his daring rescue attempt, is recovering in the hospital and is expected to survive.
As we grieve for the victims, we marvel at the bravery of those who risked and gave their lives in an attempt to save total strangers, when they could have saved themselves.
These shining examples of hope, compassion, and mercy — together with Australian first responders and the tireless healthcare professionals who are, even now, trying desperately to save every life impacted by this tragic act of violence — are the only reeds of hope in this terrible madness.
The lives of the victims can also serve as an inspiration.
Rabbi Eli Schlanger did not seek the spotlight. Like so many religious leaders who quietly hold communities together, he did his work in humble places — teaching, listening, comforting, reminding people that decency still matters.
That is why his murder in an antisemitic terror attack feels so shattering. Evil did not just take a life. It targeted a light.
Those who knew Rabbi Schlanger know he was a a man of patience, humor, and moral seriousness. He was a dedicated father, husband, and faith leader. He believed in the dignity of every human being — not as a slogan, but as a daily obligation. In an age that rewards outrage and cruelty, he practiced something rarer: restraint, compassion, and responsibility. He taught that faith is not about domination or grievance, but about stewardship — of words, of community, of one another.
Antisemitic terrorism is not random. It is fueled by lies that metastasize when societies look away, excuse hatred as “context,” or treat Jewish fear as an inconvenience. Rabbi Schlanger’s death is a reminder that this poison has deadly consequences.
The world is immeasurably poorer without him. But the measure of his life is not found only in the brutality of his death. It lives on in the people he shaped, the kindness he modeled.
We honor Rabbi Eli Schlanger best by refusing to normalize the hatred that killed him — and by choosing, deliberately, to be a little more compassionate, gentle, and kind in a world that so often rewards the opposite.
(Contributing writer, Brooke Bell)