16 Dec MASSACRE IN AUSTRALIA: CHANUKAH IN THE SHADOW OF TERROR

The light of
Chanukah this
year is dimmed
and diminished
even before it is
lit. The news of a
horrific terror
attack at a Chanukah event at Bondi
Beach in Australia has shaken us to the
core. Ten innocent people were
murdered, among them the Chabad
Rabbi, Rabbi Eli Schlanger Hy”d.
Australia has become a hotbed of
antisemitism, met far too often with a
grossly insufficient response by
government and authorities. Chanukah
begins with a painful reminder that
when our enemies march to the chant
of “globalize the intifada,” they mean
it. And they must be confronted.
It is far too soon to truly process or
respond to such a heinous crime. But
anyone with a sensitive soul cannot
avoid the question that rises unbidden
in the heart. How do we light candles,
gather with family, sing songs of
gratitude, spin the dreidel, and eat
latkes in the shadow of such devastating
loss and tragedy?
Two years ago, six holy hostages held
captive by the evil Hamas terrorists
gathered around a makeshift menorah
fashioned from paper cups to light
Chanukah candles. In an act of cruelty
meant to compound the suffering of the
hostage families, their wicked captors
recorded the moment on video. That
footage was later discovered by the
IDF in Gaza, shared privately with the
families, and only recently released in
time for Chanukah this year. The video
shows each of the hostages thin,
weakened, but still alive. Some even
smile at the camera. Among them is
Hersh Goldberg Polin, missing the
lower half of his left arm, blown off by
a grenade on October 7.
In the video, almost impossible to
comprehend, the hostages can be heard
singing the beracha of Shehechiyanu,
thanking Hashem for enabling them to
reach that moment. Ultimately, all six,
Hersh Goldberg Polin, Eden
Yerushalmi, Ori Danino, Alex Lobanov,
Carmel Gat, and Almog Sarusi, were
brutally murdered by their captors in a
tunnel in Rafah on August 29, 2024.
Their bodies were discovered by Israeli

troops two days later.
Released hostages later shared that
when they encountered Hersh in
captivity, he strengthened them with
words of encouragement. He would
quote the teaching made famous by
Viktor Frankl, that those who have a
why to live can bear almost any how.
That belief empowered Frankl to
survive the Holocaust. Though Hersh
was ultimately murdered, it gave him
the courage to live each day in captivity,
and through it, he helped others survive
and return home.
On that recently released video, as
Hersh and the others light the menorah,
he can be heard likening their
circumstance to the Holocaust, saying,
“There’s that picture of the Chanukkiah
with a Nazi flag above it.”
If six hostages held captive by the evil
enemies of our time, tortured and
starved, could nevertheless push back
the darkness with the light of the
menorah, then we too can find the will
and the way to respond to darkness
with light. If they could smile and sing
Shehechiyanu in that moment, then we
can not only say Shehechiyanu, but
sing it and mean it, more grateful than
ever to be alive and present in this
moment.
The Jews of Australia, and Jews around
the world, are not the first to confront
the challenge of lighting Chanukah
candles against a backdrop of darkness.
Two years ago, six hostages found a
way to light in the darkest of places.
Over eighty years before them, in the
depths of Bergen Belsen, Jews also
found a way to light and to sing
Shehechiyanu.
In her Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust,
Professor Yaffa Eliach shared the
extraordinary story of Chanukah in
Bergen Belsen:
Chanukah came to Bergen Belsen. It
was time to kindle the Chanukah lights.
A jug of oil was not to be found. No
candle was in sight. A menorah
belonged to the distant past. Instead, a
wooden clog, the shoe of one of the
inmates, became a menorah. Strings
pulled from a concentration camp
uniform became wicks, and black camp
shoe polish became oil.

Not far from heaps of
bodies, living skeletons
assembled to participate
in the kindling of the
Chanukah lights. The
Rabbi of Bluzhov lit the
first light and chanted
the first two blessings in
his pleasant voice, the
melody filled with
sorrow and pain. When
he was about to recite
the third blessing, he
stopped. He turned his
head and looked around
as if searching for
something.
Then he turned back to
the quivering lights and,
in a strong, reassuring, comforting
voice, recited the third blessing.
“Blessed are You, Hashem our G-d,
King of the Universe, who has kept us
alive, preserved us, and enabled us to
reach this season.”
Among those present was Mr.
Zamietchkowski, one of the leaders of
the Warsaw Bund, a sincere and
thoughtful man with a passion for
discussing faith and truth. When the
ceremony concluded, he pushed his
way to the Rabbi and said, “Spira, I
understand your need to light Chanukah
candles in these wretched times. I can
even understand the second blessing,
‘Who performed miracles for our
fathers in days of old at this season.’
But the third blessing I cannot
understand. How could you thank G-d
for keeping us alive when hundreds of
Jewish bodies lie in the shadows of the
Chanukah lights, when thousands of
living skeletons walk this camp, and
millions more are being massacred?
For this you are thankful? This you call
keeping us alive?”
“Zamietchkowski, you are one hundred
percent right,” the Rabbi answered.
“When I reached the third blessing, I
too hesitated. I asked myself what to
do. I turned my head to ask the Rabbi
of Zaner and other distinguished rabbis
standing near me whether I could recite
it. But as I turned, I saw behind me a
large throng of living Jews. Their faces
were filled with faith, devotion, and
focus as they listened to the kindling of
the Chanukah lights.

“I said to myself that if G-d has such a
nation, a people who at a time like this,
when they see before them the bodies
of their beloved fathers, brothers, and
sons, when death lurks in every corner,
still stand together listening with
devotion to the blessing ‘Who
performed miracles for our fathers in
days of old at this season,’ then I am
obligated to recite the third blessing.”
That night in Bergen Belsen, Mr.
Zamietchkowski saw only what lay
before him, death and unbearable
suffering. The Rebbe saw that as well.
But he also saw another layer of truth
that was just as real. He saw a people
who clung to faith and refused to
surrender their spiritual dignity even in
the most horrific circumstances.
Sadly, we have a long history of
Chanukah overlapping with tragedy
and loss. But we also have a sacred
tradition of finding faith despite
circumstance, and of stubbornly
insisting on bringing light even when
surrounded by darkness.
Our hearts and thoughts are with the
Jewish community and all decent
people of Australia. We pray for the
families of those murdered, for the
complete recovery of those injured,
and for the healing of all who have
been traumatized. As we light candles
this year, we are not ignoring the
darkness. We are following in the
footsteps of those who came before us,
responding to it with deeper faith,
stronger resolve, and an even greater
commitment to spread light.