Late last week I saw reports that Rabbi Eli Schlanger, the Chabad rabbi who was tragically murdered at Bondi Beach, walked towards the terrorist with his hands raised, appealing to him to stop his violent attack. Like many people, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And the more I thought, the clearer it became: It wasn’t naïveté that moved him. It wasn’t confusion. It was clarity.
I believe Rabbi Schlanger understood; this is the battle. And he saw himself on the front lines of the fight. That’s why he worked tirelessly each year to organize this public menorah lighting celebration in the first place.
It wasn’t a battlefield of weapons, but of presence. A public menorah is more than a celebration; it is a declaration that Jewish life belongs in the public square, that darkness does not get to dictate where Jews live, pray, or play. That is the battle itself.
“Why is it so important for Jews to have a Chanukah Menorah displayed publicly?,” asked the Rebbe, Rabbi Menachem M. Schneerson, of righteous memory. Well, he answered, for many reasons: the inspiration it gives to those who see it, the sense of pride, “and the realization that there is no reason, really, in this free country, to hide one's Jewishness, as if it were contrary or inimical to American life and culture. On the contrary, it is fully in keeping with the American national slogan ‘e pluribus unum’…"
The Rebbe taught us that light is serious business. It is far more than giving hugs, buying a friend a coffee, or being good neighbors—important as all of that is. Light is the struggle itself: good against evil, truth against distortion, moral courage against moral collapse.
The Rebbe didn’t speak about light only as symbolism. For the Rebbe, light was action. Presence. Visibility. A refusal to allow darkness to define and cover the human soul. That is why he sent shluchim, like Schlanger and thousands of others, to the farthest corners of the world—not to be comfortable, but to be clear. Clear about who we are and our mission in this world. Clear about what light is and the darkness that tries to destroy it.
That reality was on my mind this Saturday evening as I stood with my family for Havdalah, the weekly ceremony that marks the transition from the sacred to the everyday. My wife, Bassy, held the braided candle while I recited the words Jews have said for generations: baruch hamavdil … bein ohr l’choshech—”blessed is the One… who distinguishes between light and darkness.” Judaism teaches that these distinctions matter. Ignoring them doesn’t make the world gentler; it makes it more dangerous.
And yet, light does not exist only in grand public moments—it begins in the home, in the everyday choices each of us makes. In recognizing that we are not spectators in this world, but partners with G‑d, entrusted with a Divine responsibility to bring clarity where there is confusion, joy where there is despair, and goodness in all areas of life around us.
Each morning the first words Jews recite is the modeh ani prayer. We thank the Almighty not only for returning our souls after a night of slumber, but for once again placing His faith in us by giving us a new day. He is entrusting us with a mission, with a responsibility that is unique to each of us—to be a force of good in our surroundings.
That is the meaning of light. A flame kindled within our souls, illuminating our homes, families, communities and surroundings in ever greater force, one act of courage—big and small—at a time. Each step we take matters, because each act pushes back darkness. And when we take that responsibility seriously—when we live as bearers of light—evil does not have the final word. Goodness endures. Truth endures. And the world becomes brighter, one flame at a time.
When Rabbi Shlanger walked toward the shooter with his hands raised, he was following his own line of thinking, his own instinct to demonstrate that he is not an enemy. The mistake is in assuming that our violent opponents think like we do: “show yourself friendly and they will drop their guns”. When will we start listening to their own declarations of intent? They plan to take over the world and to destroy anyone who does not submit to sharia law. Our shows of goodwill and cooperation are NOT interpreted by them in the way that we mean them. The two people who tackled the shooters and fought back saved lives without losing their own. This is the ONLY language these sub humans can understand.
Thank you for engaging so thoughtfully with the article. My intention was not to minimize the reality of evil or the need for strength and vigilance in the face of danger. Rather, I wanted to share a core teaching of the Rebbe—that we have the power to transform darkness through light. Strength and self-defense are sometimes necessary, but I believe our deepest resilience comes from staying anchored in—and proud of—who we are as Jews.