Defying the Darkness with Hanukkah Light

The morning of December 14th, I awoke to find that darkness had invaded the light of Hanukkah.

In Sydney, as the Jewish community was observing the start of the Festival of Hanukkah, two gunmen opened fire from a bridge overlooking Bondi Beach. Hundreds of people had gathered to celebrate the start of the holiday. In the wake of that attack, at least 15 people were murdered and dozens more were wounded. Hanukkah is a holiday where we are meant to bring more light into the world. In fact, we are experiencing the opposite – darkness is invading this space where we are taught to seek light. It is almost unthinkable.

To be sure, the Jewish community is not the only one under attack. Immigrants around our country have been attacked, detained, and deported without due process in ways that harken back to our worst human moments. The rights of women and queer folks have been clawed back in ways that deny the divinity of every living being. Equality and equity have become words that divide our nation rather than call us together to be our best selves. Our call to action as a faithful community must be to stand with every community that is the victim of hatred and violence. My colleague and friend Imam Yawar Baig[1] wrote this week that, “all hate is fire and the result is always ash…This is a world of cause and effect. If you want to change an effect, you must address the cause. Peace is an effect. Justice is its cause. If we want peace, we must establish justice.” May we take a lesson from his charge and be a faithful voice for justice.

The sadness and grief of the horror we have experienced as a Jewish community, magnified manyfold by the insult that it occurred on the first day of Hanukkah, feels not only sudden but very deep and very dark – almost like an eclipse where a shadow blots out the sun and completely changes our perspective of light. And yet, we know that it is our obligation to separate from the darkness to find spaces of light and hope. God, in the early verses of the Bible, sees light and understands it is good, and “separates the light from the darkness[2].”

Over the past few weeks, I sat with the horror of that day and struggled to explain to my own children why people peacefully gathered to celebrate could be attacked. As I traveled through the stages of disbelief, anger, frustration, and sadness, I came to a realization: we must endeavor to do the same thing. We must separate the light that exists from the darkness of this act of Antisemitism and terror. And we must use our work ahead to inform the many places where we encounter darkness in our world that so often now feels cold and cruel. And I believe that this separation comes from recognizing where there is light in the world and then choosing to walk in the light.

For me, that light in this moment was found in the observance of Hanukkah and in doing so with our community and our loved ones. As Hanukkah arrived in Western Massachusetts, my family and I left our home and drove to the Jewish Community Center for our community’s First Light celebration. Together with dozens of other families, we packed gift bags for elders, made Hanukkah cards for residents at a local long-term care facility, ate latkes, sang songs, and lit our Menorah. These were acts of defiance of the darkness – a small invitation to bring light into the world that seemed darker than before.

I also believe that light comes from memory. As we share the memory of this moment and of the memories of those who were so suddenly taken from this world through hatred and violence, we also recognize that God’s presence is found within the darkness. We are not alone. The Prophet Micah shares this wisdom when he writes that “Though I have fallen, I will eventually rise. Though I sit in darkness, in this space God is my light[3].” That does not mean we have to accept hatred as our reality or that we must resign ourselves to live in a world where Antisemitism is normalized. Instead, it is an invitation to see our work to push back against hatred as a place where we find God’s presence; a light in the darkest moment.

Light also comes from taking a stand and doing what is right, even when it is difficult or scary. One of the places of light in the darkness of this moment is in the stories of people who stood firm in their beliefs. Light is found in Ahmed al Ahmed, the Muslim man who owned a local fruit store near the beach who intervened and disarmed one of the shooters at Bondi Beach. Ahmed spoke to the press after the shooting and said that he acted out of humanity, plain and simple.  Light is also seen in members of our Christian community who came to First Light at the JCC to stand alongside the Jewish community. In these horrific moments, we can take comfort in the beauty and holiness that come from standing in opposition to darkness in all its forms.

Anne Frank shared about this unique space between dark and light. She is quoted as saying, “Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness[4].” In this awful darkness where hatred and violence abound, I ask you to consider how you can be that source of light in this world and invite you to think about how you can defy the darkness that this horrific attack on the Jewish community in Bondi represents. Together, the light that we bring into the world can define the darkness as hate, and we can push back against it in defiance.

As we work toward that goal at the end of a year that has been mired with deeply disturbing acts of violence, dehumanization, and hatred both at home and abroad, I hope that the memories of those who were murdered on Bondi Beach will serve as a blessing for us and for everyone who knew and loved them. I pray that we can resolve to do more to speak out for social justice and seek out dignity for all people. And in 2026, may we continue to defy the darkness of hate in the cold and darker nights ahead.

Yehi Or – Together, may we find light.