After Bondi: What Chanukah Asks Of Us This Year

This week has been heavy. Shocking. Unsettling. And for many Jews, clarifying. In the aftermath of the Bondi tragedy, we noticed something painful, but familiar. Some public statements expressing grief without naming who was targeted. No mention of Jews. No mention of Chanukah. No mention of antisemitism. At the same time, there was an intense focus on the bravery of the Muslim man who intervened. His actions were heroic and deserve recognition, but it is worth asking why his religion became a focal point while the fact that Jews were targeted during Chanukah celebrations so often did not. If the rescuer had been Christian, his faith would likely have gone unmentioned. This imbalance tells us less about him and more about the ongoing discomfort people have with naming antisemitism plainly.

What we are seeing here is part of a larger pattern. Writer Dara Horn famously titled her book, “People Love Dead Jews.” What we are learning again and again is something even more sobering. Many people do not actually love dead Jews either. They love symbols. They love narratives that make them feel moral. But when Jewish suffering is specific, named, and current, it is often downplayed, given “context,” redirected or ignored completely.

Understanding this does not mean we stop speaking. It means we stop speaking with false expectations. Our voices still matter. Naming antisemitism still matters. Telling the truth still matters. Speaking out matters, but it does not guarantee understanding or support. Silence, on the other hand, has never protected us.

Many of us want to believe that if we explain ourselves better, speak more carefully, or find the right words, people will come around. That antisemitism is simply confusion, not a choice. Sometimes that is true. Many people are not educated and misinformed. But many others are not interested in knowing the truth. This week reminds us that antisemitism is often not about confusion at all; sometimes people understand perfectly and choose not to care.

It is also worth remembering that much of our speaking is not aimed outward at all; it is for each other. When Jews speak clearly and without apology, it helps people feel less alone and less crazy. That matters.

Still, something has to shift.

We cannot base our safety or sense of worth on other people’s willingness to name us and care about us. Asking repeatedly to be seen has never protected Jews.

This shift does not mean we become hardened or lose compassion. It means directing our energy where it matters: toward our people, our community, and strengthening Jewish life rather than chasing validation from those who are not willing to see us.

Chanukah asks something different than explaining or appeasing. It arrives at the darkest time of the year (in the northern hemisphere), when the nights are longest. Judaism does not deny the darkness or ask us to look away from it. It teaches us to create light through our actions. Not all at once, but one candle at a time, growing gradually, just like strength and healing do.

Chanukah is also a story of Jewish defiance, of remaining visible, faithful, and even proud when it was difficult and dangerous.

Holding onto these ideas does not require us to pretend things are easier than they are. It also means naming reality honestly. It is a frightening time to be a Jew. Feeling angry, shaken, or exhausted is not an overreaction. It is an appropriate response to what is actually happening.

Fear, however, is not the full story. The same people who lit candles despite exile, violence, and persecution are still here. Still gathering. Still honoring traditions and Jewish practices. Still choosing life. Still bringing light into dark places. We are the smallest people, but the largest family.

This week, let us take care of each other. Let us speak honestly without making things feel more hopeless. And let us remember that Jewish strength has never come from being accepted; it has come from being rooted in something bigger than any one of us. May this Chanukah bring hope, courage, genuine connection, Jewish pride, and light to our homes and to our hearts.

Chag Sameach. 

Rachel Tuchman, LMHC, is a licensed therapist in private practice. She not only treats a variety of mental-health concerns, but also shares psychoeducation via her social media platform, public speaking, and online courses. You can learn more about Rachel’s work at RachelTuchman.com and follow her on Instagram @rachel_tuchman_lmhc.