I’ll reflect on the Hanukkah miracle, mourn the recent terror at Bondi Beach, recall the meaning of the Maccabees’ stand, note the worry over rising antisemitism, describe the pain felt at Brown University after its shootings, and call for courage, prayer, and healing.
Two centuries before Christ, Judah Maccabee and his followers fought to retake Jerusalem and to cleanse and reoccupy the Second Temple. The famous lamp oil story followed: enough for one night, but miraculously it burned for eight, giving time to secure more oil. That small, stubborn light became a symbol of resilience, the kind of story you carry with you through dark days. It’s why Hanukkah has always felt less like a holiday of gifts and more like a testament to endurance.
Growing up, Hanukkah stood out to me not because of presents but because of that miracle and what it signified. It taught a child that faith and courage could bend the arc of events, that ordinary people could push back against powerful forces. The ritual of lighting the menorah each night is simple but it forces us, even for a few minutes, to choose light. It’s that deliberate choosing that keeps the story alive generation after generation.
The miracle also carries a public, communal dimension: people still go to the Western Wall to leave notes and prayers, trusting that a larger power hears those small petitions. That act of placing words in the wall is both private plea and a public statement of belonging. In moments of violence and loss, that mixture of private grief and communal solidarity matters in a practical way. It binds people and makes recovery possible, not just through prayer but through presence.
The recent attack at Bondi Beach that struck worshippers on Hanukkah was an assault on that very symbolism, and it killed at least 15 people in a day meant for light and family. It was described by some as ISIS-inspired terror, and it hit a community simply gathering to observe a holy time. These are the moments when ritual and reality collide violently, and the immediate response can feel hollow in the face of such loss. Grief is raw, and faith is tested when darkness arrives on a night built to oppose it.
ISRAELI INTEL OFFICIAL SAYS YOUR ‘JAW WOULD DROP’ AT TERROR PLOTS PREVENTED WORLDWIDE That headline landed like a jolt, reminding us that the threats are real and often bigger than headlines can carry. It’s a reminder that vigilance and intelligence matter, and that prevention is a quiet kind of heroism. We honor victims not just with sorrow but by refusing to be startled into paralysis. Action, in other words, is a form of respect for those who have been taken.
Antisemitism is a spreading cancer, and the Bondi attack should be a wake-up call to communities and governments around the world. Hatred grows in silence and indifference, and it metastasizes when people treat ordinary prejudice as acceptable. We have to confront it with law, with education, and with communities that refuse to normalize hate. Courage, like the Maccabees showed, comes in many forms: public defiance, private teaching, and institutional pushback.
As a graduate of Brown University, the recent shootings on that campus hit close to home. Brown sits apart, a close-knit place that prides itself on safety and scholarship, and seeing it pierced by gunfire is a shock to the system. The students, staff, and families deserve swift care and long-term support so trauma doesn’t calcify into permanent fear. In times like this we must offer practical help, keep channels of communication open, and insist that campuses be safe spaces for learning and growth.
We should ask for healing from a compassionate source and also roll up our sleeves to help others heal. Pray if you pray, light a menorah if you keep the tradition, and reach out to those nearby who are hurting. May God stanch the spread of hatred, may light return where darkness has fallen, and may those wounded find the care and courage they need to recover. Let our actions match our words so the next generation inherits a world moving toward light, not away from it.
