From BJ to Bondi Beach—A Personal Reflection
Tonight, on the final night of Hanukkah, our hanukkiyot glow with their fullest light. It’s a night of culmination, of illumination. And it marks one week since the massacre at Bondi Beach in Sydney—a place that, for me, is more than just a dot on the map. It’s home.
For those who don’t know me: I am from Sydney, and I’ve worked at BJ since 2016 in the communications department—for the last few years remotely from Montreal, where I now live with my partner and our two young children. But Sydney will always be my anchor. My parents, and my sister and her family all live just ten minutes from Bondi Beach. It’s been a cherished place for me for longer than I can remember—one of the first stops I make when I return to Australia, a ritual of reconnecting with something deep and grounding.
So when the attack happened, it hit close. It’s strange, disorienting even, to witness horror unfold from afar—a feeling many of us know all too well. When I woke up late on Sunday morning here in North America, my loved ones back in Australia were already asleep. My partner saw the first message, a group text from a friend: “Lisa, sending positive vibes to your fam 💗💗. I hope everyone is ok. Xx.”
Still in bed, our kids nestled between us, I reached for my phone and found it flooded with unread messages—each one timestamped after I’d gone to bed late the night before, following the cleanup from our Chrismukkah celebration: the crumbs of latkes, half-eaten sufganiyot, and the last slices of bûche de Noël. I scrolled, heart pounding, through message after message until I reached the last: my family and friends were all safe. Too many loved ones had been there – forced to run, to hide, to take cover – but no one I love was physically hurt. I know how lucky I am to be able to say that.
Is it worse when tragedy strikes in a place we believed was safe from gun violence? Is it worse that the shooting at Brown University just a day earlier felt both shocking and unsurprising? There is no hierarchy of horror—both are devastating. But for me, what happened in Sydney is layered with a painful irony. Australia has long symbolized a kind of sanctuary, known for its strict gun laws and swift legislative response to mass shootings. And yet here we are.
And what happened in Sydney didn’t come out of nowhere. It comes in the midst of rising antisemitism in Australia—part of a broader, global wave of hostility and violence toward Jews that has been intensifying for a long time now. It’s painful. And it’s frightening.
Still, this past week, I’ve tried to focus on the light in the darkness: I’ve drawn hope from the astounding heroism of Ahmed al-Ahmed. From the volunteer lifeguards who ran barefoot toward danger to help victims. From everyday Australians who opened their homes and workplaces to shelter the stranger. From the many messages of care and solidarity I’ve received from my rabbis, colleagues, and friends in New York and in Montreal, and around the world. In each of these moments, I’ve felt the very embodiment of Hanukkah’s light.
It’s hard to be far from family and loved ones in seasons of celebration. It’s harder still in times of crisis. But the outpouring of love I’ve received has been a lifeline—a reminder that we are not alone.
By this time next week, I’ll be in Sydney (a trip home I take annually around winter break). The very first thing I’ll do is hug my family. When I visit my Emanuel Synagogue community – where I grew up, and where I worked before moving to New York – I will hand deliver messages of love and prayer from our BJ community, as well as from Emanu-El-Beth-Sholom in Montreal.
And I’ll make my way to Bondi Beach. I’ll walk barefoot into the sand and let the salty water wash over me. I’ll share that cherished place with my children again—not for the first time, but now with a new layer of meaning. I’ll carry with me not only memory and loss, but also resilience. And the light we’ve kindled together, across oceans, as a community that continues to choose hope, even in the face of darkness.
