A Muslim Saved Jews on Hanukkah and Lit the Brightest Candle of All

After the Sydney Hanukkah attack, an Ethiopian-Israeli educator argues that Jews, Muslims, governments, and citizens everywhere share one sacred duty: to fight the killers, not each other and to keep humanity’s light burning bright.

A Call to All Humankind

When I first heard of the Bondi Beach shooting in Australia, an attack on Jewish families lighting candles for Hanukkah I felt both heartbreak and disbelief. Australia, the easygoing land of beaches and laughter, suddenly echoed with the sound of hatred. Yet amid the horror, something profoundly holy happened.

Ahmed al Ahmed, a 43-year-old Muslim fruit vendor and father of two, wrestled the rifle out of the terrorist’s hands, saving Jewish lives. Both Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese hailed him a hero. Think about that for a moment: on the night Jews celebrated a miracle of light, a Muslim father performed one with his bare hands.

The Real Miracle of Hanukkah 2025

Hanukkah is the Festival of Light, a story about a small people who refused to surrender to darkness. But this year, the candles burned not only for Jewish survival; they burned for shared human courage. Ahmed al Ahmed reminded us that evil is not religious, and neither is goodness. A Muslim saved Jewish families at a Hanukkah celebration. That was not politics, that was prophecy fulfilled. The lesson is simple: we either fight the killers together, or we allow them to divide and destroy us separately. Across the globe, antisemitism has erupted again this time wearing modern clothing and carrying smartphones. From Sydney to San Francisco, from Berlin to Buenos Aires, Jews are attacked, synagogues defaced, and families threatened.

As a Black Ethiopian Jew from Jerusalem, I know this fear too well. My people endured dictatorship in Africa and discrimination abroad. We came home to Israel searching for safety and discovered that hatred, like fire, spreads wherever there is oxygen. But here is the deeper truth: the same poison that fuels antisemitism also feeds Islamophobia, Christianophobia, racism, and extremism of every kind. When one group is targeted, the moral fabric of all humanity begins to tear. Ahmed al Ahmed’s act matters because he refused to see difference as destiny. He didn’t just save Jews; he defended the idea that human life is sacred.

Hanukkah is not only a festival of miracles; it is a festival of responsibility. Light does not appear automatically; someone must strike the match. That moral duty belongs to all of us: Jews, Muslims, Christians, Hindus, believers, and skeptics alike. It belongs to local governments, to police forces, to teachers, to journalists. It is not a Jewish or Muslim obligation, it is a human one. Because when killers roam free, silence becomes a sin. And when hatred spreads, neutrality becomes complicity. That means governments must treat the defense of all faith communities as a core democratic responsibility, not a favor to minorities. It means police must guard both synagogues and mosques with equal vigilance. It means schools must teach empathy before ideology and truth before propaganda. Evil is organized. Goodness must be organized too.

Democracy’s Test of Faith

If democracies cannot protect Jewish children lighting Hanukkah candles, they will not protect anyone. If Muslim heroes like Ahmed al Ahmed are not honored, extremists will claim to speak for them and the world will lose its balance. That is why the next frontier of diplomacy must be moral, not merely political. The Abraham Accords were not just peace agreements; they were the first attempt in a century to root diplomacy in spiritual kinship. But they remain incomplete until they grow beyond treaties between governments and become covenants between peoples.

Imagine a new Abraham Alliance: Jews, Muslims, and Christians working together to combat hate crimes, defend houses of worship, and promote education in moral courage. Imagine civic programs pairing Jewish and Muslim youth to volunteer in each other’s communities. Imagine embassies sponsoring interfaith scholarships for young diplomats who believe that dialogue not dominance is the true measure of strength. This is not idealism; it is the only form of realism that can save civilization from cynicism.

Yes, antisemitism is growing again. But fear cannot be our strategy; moral clarity must be.
We must thank our allies loudly, especially the ones the headlines overlook. When a Muslim father saves Jewish lives, he deserves more than gratitude; he deserves partnership. That is what moral diplomacy looks like: friendship that crosses boundaries of blood and creed to protect the sanctity of life itself.

A Word to My Muslim Brothers and Sisters

I know many Muslims who are weary of being defined by the extremists who hijack their faith. I have sat with imams who quote the same prophets and cry for the same peace. Ahmed al Ahmed stands for them all. The Qur’an says, “Whoever saves one life, it is as if he has saved all of humanity.” This week, that verse came alive on Bondi Beach.

Our world needs not only prayers but policies. It is time for international institutions to treat antisemitism, Islamophobia, and Christianophobia or any religious persecution as a single global security threat. Police departments should be trained to recognize hate crimes as moral as well as criminal offenses.  Governments must ensure that extremists cannot hide behind free speech while inciting murder. Educational systems should revive the idea of civic virtue, teaching that freedom without responsibility is chaos. Every mayor, every law-enforcement officer, every civic leader must see themselves as a modern Maccabee. The menorah and the badge must both stand for light.

My Personal Plea

I write not as a politician but as a witness and a teacher of moral diplomacy. I am a Black Ethiopian Jew who served in New York’s Supreme Court and returned to Jerusalem to help rebuild the moral heart of Zion. I sweep the floors of the Foreign Ministry and dream of polishing its conscience. If I could speak to the world’s leaders, I would say: Before you draft another resolution, find your own Ahmed al Ahmed. Before you condemn other people, honor those who risk their lives for strangers. Because peace does not begin in parliaments; it begins in human hearts that choose courage over comfort.

This Hanukkah, as I lit my menorah in Jerusalem, I thought of those who died in Sydney and of the Muslim man who refused to let the light go out. In his act of courage, I saw the miracle of the oil again: a flame that should have lasted one moment but burned far longer because someone believed it should. The true enemy of faith is not difference, it is despair.
And if a Muslim father and a Jewish child can share the same miracle of survival, then perhaps, after all, Hanukkah still wins.

Let every government, every police officer, every human soul join that victory. For in the end, it will not be weapons that save us but the will to defend each other’s light.