Is December 14 the before-and-after moment for Jewish Australians?
That was the question a journalist asked me shortly after the deadly attack on Jewish families at an annual Hanukkah celebration on Bondi Beach.
Still in shock, I paused.
I hadn’t yet found the language to think clearly. But the short answer was “yes, everything changed that day”.
Was this our October 7? Not quite. Not because it was less consequential, but because it arrived differently.
For Australian Jews, December 14 felt more like standing beneath an avalanche.
The snow had been gathering for two years.
Small pellets at first – derision, exclusion, cancellation.
Then, encampments, protests, chants, and placards that normalised hate, until the slope was primed for catastrophe.
Then it happened. In the most jarring, brutal way, two alleged gunmen, father and son, 50 and 24, hunted down innocents at a beautiful family festival on the first night of Hanukkah. An event that had gone off without incident for decades.
Fifteen lives extinguished and dozens more injured. Rabbis and community leaders.
A Holocaust survivor killed shielding his wife from gunfire. A 10-year-old Jewish child, given the most Australian name – Matilda – given by her parents, with nowhere to hide.
This attack was warned against. Repeatedly.
Along with the lives lost was a long-held belief that Australia was somehow different.
That here, history had finally loosened its grip.
There is much we can say about failures, countless warnings ignored. About platitudes substituting for policy. About the selective enforcement of existing laws.
Here I want to talk about choice.
Choice sits at the heart of Judaism.
The idea of free will – that decisions matter – even under extreme conditions. My ancestors made such choices. Boarding one of the last boats out of Europe at the cusp of war, some crossed oceans into the unknown, others survived the camps and death marches to see Sydney Harbour Bridge rising before them – like “the gates of heaven”.
Even in seemingly impossible circumstances, wrote Holocaust scholar Lawrence Langer, there were the “choiceless choices”, whilst survivor Elie Wiesel later wrote that moral agency could endure, with action the only antidote to indifference.
Leadership and taking action
Real leadership is about this notion – making choices, taking action.
In our country, this is one of those moments.
Leadership cannot be passive. Delay is a choice.
Leaving comprehensive reports on antisemitism unopened while the crisis they warned of unfolds was a choice.
Recognising a Palestinian state after October 7, without reckoning with the domestic signal it sent, was also a choice.
Leaders are not fronting up to face the ire of grief-stricken families of victims. Visiting heroes but neglecting Jewish victims was a choice.
The choice of hate
Permitting the extremist ideology that was able to gestate openly across our nation. Ignoring mobs marching past iconic landmarks, hunting Jews.
Downplaying the graffiti, the firebombing of synagogues, the weekly marches where prescribed Terrorist flags flew –it was an abrogation of responsibility.
And Terrorists make choices too.
They chose Bondi Beach’s symbolism and its visibility.
Yes, gun laws must be reviewed. Hate speech laws, too.
But the urgency is to disable the ecosystem of antisemitic propaganda and how anti-Zionism legitimises hatred, the main driver of violence.
Heroism as instinct
Since that horrific day, there have also been many stories worthy of recognition.
People who tried to disarm the shooters, who ran toward danger and not away, who instinctively shielded children, strangers.
First responders. Bystanders. Athletes. Surf lifesavers. Messages sent. Presence offered.
These gestures matter.
But the worry is that solidarity will be fleeting, symbolic.
The Hanukkah test
The Hanukkah celebration embodied the best of Australia: the freedom to be openly Jewish in one of the country’s most recognisable public spaces.
Bondi was our summer pilgrimage: the beach, the streets, the sense of belonging.
December 14 shattered that dream.
One week on from the Bondi Beach mass shooting
Judaism also teaches that second chances exist. Different choices can be made.
At 6:47 p.m., on December 21, exactly one week after the first gunshot, a minute of silence was held at Bondi.
Tens of thousands gathered to embrace a shattered community – Jews and non-Jews alike.
Rabbis and leaders called for action and mitzvot.
The eight candles of the hanukkiah were lit by first responders and heroes, families of the slain.
Hanukkah tunes melded with Australian anthems.
It was a moment of unity – that tasted bittersweet, arriving only because Jewish blood was spilled.
A tiny percentage of the Australian population, the 100,000-strong Jewish community, is right now under the spotlight.
It is a time of deep grief for the broken families, who are also a part of our wider Jewish family.
We must be able to speak openly about who we are, where we belong, and how our identity – including our connection to Israel – sits within Australian life. Not apologetically.
But this tragedy requires a coordinated and united response by the Australian Government and the state governments.
As New South Wales Premier Chris Minns said so aptly on December 21, it is Australia’s responsibility to heal this wound because the victims cannot cure the crime, and the haters cannot cure the hate.
At the same time, our prime minister, who was booed and declined the chance to speak at the commemoration, must seriously consider his next move.
What choices come next will define us and our future. It will never be the same for our community, but our nation’s soul can still be saved.
The writer is an Australian writer and commentator with a special interest in Jewish peoplehood and Israel Diaspora affairs. The article was written in honor of all the victims and their families.