By Ilanit Zakowski in Los Angeles
“Is it safe for my son to go on shlichut in Australia?”
“Should our family not go to public menorah lightings this year?”
“Will there be security at outdoor Chanukah events?”
These were real questions I heard in the hours following the attack in Sydney. They were asked by thoughtful, caring people- parents and community members seeking guidance, yearning for answers. These questions reflect a tension Jews know well: how to live fully as Jews in a world that does not always want us to continue living.
We would be naive to think this is only a Sydney story. This past Yom Kippur, London experienced its own attack. The numerous attacks around the globe this past year can be listed here, but there’s no need- we are all very aware. Our history has taught us that antisemitism is not confined to one place. The challenge is not identifying the next location but deciding how we respond wherever we are.
And that’s a message I share with my children: someone may try to annoy you, but how you respond is your choice. You can allow yourself to become agitated, or you can choose not to react. You are the one who determines the outcome. And instead of focusing on why you dislike someone, try to find one thing you do appreciate about them. Everyone has at least one winning trait- you just have to be willing to look for it.
The world was never fully accepting of us- at least never for long periods of time. In Parsha Miketz, we read how Yosef’s brothers came down to Mitzrayim because of the famine in Canaan to ask for food. Yosef, now the viceroy of Egypt, sits down to eat with them. The Torah notes that the Egyptian officers ate at a separate table, because it was considered a to’eivah, an abomination for Egyptians to eat together with the Ivrim, the Hebrews.
Rav Hirsch explains that this separation was not because of Jewish weakness, but because of Jewish strength. The reputation of Yaakov’s family, descendants of Avraham, was already well known. They were recognized for their moral clarity and values, which stood in sharp contrast to the Egyptian way of life. That very difference made the Egyptians uncomfortable, leading them to distance themselves from the Jewish people.
We are a people of strong conscience. Even in the face of evil, we are trained to look for the good, even in the most horrific situations. Let us focus on the stories that highlight the inner strength and true heroism of our people. Again and again, we have heard about ordinary community members- people just like us who chose, almost instinctively, to step forward into danger to save others. They did not act only to protect their own community, but also to save non-Jews they saw in harm’s way.
At Bondi Beach, when the chaos erupted, Leibel Lazaroff did not run. He crouched over a critically injured Australian police officer, tore off his own shirt, and used it as a tourniquet. He did not know this officer. Leibel was injured, is in the hospital now and in need of our tefillot.
There was also Chaya Dadon, a 13-year-old girl who threw herself over two small children to protect them while their mother lay seriously injured beside them. Thirteen years old yet instinctively understanding the responsibility that when others are in danger, you jump in to help.
The stories of pure mesirut nefesh continue to amaze us. Yes, these beliefs are built into our tradition. “Lo Taamod Al Dam Re’echa”– do not stand idly by the blood of your fellow. These are words we’ve all learned, but how likely are we to encounter the need to follow them? How many of us think we’d jump to confront the danger as a gut response just to save others? In moments like these, this mitzvah moves from theory to action, embodied by people who choose to help rather than hide.
These two stories are only two examples among the many acts of heroism that continue to emerge.
And then, this past Friday when those of us here in America were all wondering how we’d pull together another early Shabbos, there was news of a few attacks that morning in Northern Israel. It barely made headlines, because such attacks have become tragically familiar. A terrorist carried out a car ramming and stabbing at two separate bus stops, killing two people.
Mordechai Shimshon, a 68-year-old man was killed. 19-year-old Aviv Maor was the second victim. Some of my daughter’s friends knew her. She was the same age as my daughter, standing at a bus stop not far from where my daughter often waits herself. 19 years old, just like my daughter. Just for being a Jew.
This is Jewish history unfolding before our eyes, in real time. It is never abstract. Each attack feels deeply personal- whether it takes place in our own land or in Jewish communities around the world that many of us once felt were safe. Here in Los Angeles, many members of our community lost relatives in Sydney, or have loved ones who were at Bondi that night.
Survival does not only mean overcoming the hatred and adversity that confront us in every generation. Survival also means continuing to gather, to educate, to send shlichim, to light menorahs in public spaces, and to raise children who understand that Jewish life is worth living openly and proudly.
Yes, we must take precautions. We must demand stronger security and recognize the vital role of our armed Jewish security teams. Time and again, it has been our own community members who step forward to protect one another- even at great personal risk. Protecting life is a mitzvah. We believe this but pray that we are never again forced to prove it through action.
Chanukah is not only about miracles of the past- “bayamim hahem bazman hazeh”- it’s about the ongoing miracles Hashem performs for us. He grants us resilience and strength in the wake of tragedy. Again and again, we choose to remain visible as Jews, even when it feels uncomfortable or scary. We choose to build resilience.
The unimaginable occurred on the first night of Chanukah in Sydney. And on the fifth night of Chanukah in Israel, 120 Holocaust survivors gathered at the Kotel to light the Chanukah candles. That same night was my great-aunt Zelda’s birthday. Zelda is a 94-year-old Holocaust survivor living in Plainview, New York. Had she been in Israel, I am certain she would have stood there as part of that historic gathering.
Two huge gatherings- one marked by tragedy and the other by perseverance- both spreading Jewish light in a world that repeatedly tries to extinguish it. The goal of terror is to make us shrink: to stop gathering, and stop living Jewishly. But every time we choose tefillah, achdut and taking responsibility for one another- that goal fails.
We mourn those who were murdered at Bondi Beach, pray for the wounded, emotionally and physically. We remain committed to the values that have sustained us for generations- responsibility for one another- even in times of danger, an unwavering commitment to living proudly and visibly as Jews and finding the light amongst the darkness.
We are here because we choose how to respond. They may have struck but we determined the outcome. And we will continue to determine our fate. We will remain. We will live as Am Hanetzach– the eternal nation. We will live, and in doing so, we will continue to bring light, strength, and joy into the world.
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Ilanit Zakowski is a freelance writer based in Los Angeles.