Rav Avi’s Reflections of Areivut from Sydney – #1
In the wake of the December 14th attack at Bondi Beach, we traveled to Sydney in solidarity. The next five posts share reflections from that visit.
Rav Avi’s Reflections of Areivut from Sydney – #1
Arrived, thank God, in Sydney, and so grateful to Rabbi Ben Elton, who serves at the Great Synagogue of Sydney, for receiving us together with his dear wife, Hinda and children. Grateful, as well, to Rabbi Mike Nasielski who hails from Australia, for his indispensable help, and of course, to Rabbi Amitai Fraiman who will be at my side all week, and Rabbi Noah Leavitt for joining in this effort.
Our hope is this week’s parsha of anochi e’ervenu. We come in the spirit of kol yisrael areivim zeh la’zeh, we are guarantors for each other’s safety, all of us trying to be there for the other – feeling the pain, feeling the suffering, as if it’s our pain and our suffering.
I offer the tefillah that the words that come from our mouths as we try to comfort and to give hope, be words of meaning.
I keep thinking of that moment when Yosef tells the ish, the anonymous person, et achai anochi mevakesh. We, too, seek our brothers, we seek our sisters, with a simple message: You’re not alone.
We are off to the funerals of Sofia and Boris Gurman, heroic kedoshim who were murdered trying to stop the terrorists.
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Friday, December 19th
Erev Shabbat, 10:00 a.m.: We attend the funeral of Boris and Sofia Gurman, émigrés from the former Soviet Union, murdered as they tried to stop the shooters at the very onset of the massacre.
Slowly, almost instinctively, we begin to sing Am Yisrael Chai, Od Avinu Chai – the anthem, the hymn of the Soviet Jewry movement, the movement to free Soviet Jews. My mind focuses on next week’s parsha, when Joseph reveals himself to his brothers and asks, Od Avinu Chai? – Is my father Jacob still alive?
In the Torah, the brothers are silent. It was left to Boris and Sofia – who left the Soviet Union for freedom, and who in their final moments of life stood heroically – to declare: Od Avinu Chai. Our Father, our God, is still alive.
Walking slowly behind the hearses, we were engulfed by tears.
Friday afternoon: We are at Bondi Beach with my dear Amitai and Mike – sitting in the very place where the horror unfolded. This ground, this space, became a killing field, where fifteen of our brothers and sisters were murdered for one reason only: they were Jewish.
And yet, sitting here now, surrounded by hundreds – thousands – of wreaths and flowers, the field has taken on a new name. No longer a killing field, but a field of kindness, goodness, and sweetness.
Since we arrived, so many people have approached us – seeing our kippot, expressing pain and sorrow. The customs official at passport control. The parking attendant. Strangers who felt compelled to say something, to reach out.
As we entered Bondi Beach, we fell into one another’s arms, overwhelmed by what had happened to our people.
I know this is a moment to demand that the Australian government do far more to confront the spiraling antisemitism. This is a time for particularistic Hadar Yisrael. And yet, at this moment, I feel a sense of universal comfort – a drop of what Anne Frank wrote as she was taken away by the Gestapo: “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are good at heart.”
There are Ahmeds – a holy Muslim who risked his life to save Jews and was injured. And there are countless others who transformed a killing field into a field of flowers.
May they be blessed with goodness. May light flow from heart to heart and rise heavenward to God. May this Shabbat be a Shabbat of peace – of shalom.
We attend Rabbi Elton’s Friday night service, which includes a fire show for children. The shul has experienced tremendous growth under Rabbi Ben’s leadership. Politicians are present. The premier from the Labour Party walks by and I reach out to him and ask if I could bless him – being a Kohen – with the Priestly Benediction. I recite the blessing and translate its words. He looks into my eyes and says quietly, “I needed these words as I feel great shame that this could have occurred under my watch.”
Moments earlier, I had confronted Prime Minister Albanese directly, handing him a letter from Congressman Ritchie Torres. Drawing from Ritchie’s words, I told him that when Israel is demonized in the streets, when Jews are dehumanized, and the government fails to respond – fails to categorically reject such language and stop it – attacks like Bondi become inevitable. He stood frozen. “This is your moment,” I said. And echoing Mordechai’s words in the Megillah: If you step up and do what must be done – if you help the Jewish community – you will be remembered. If not, you will go down in history like all those who stood against our people.
Rabbi Amitai Fraiman then approached the Prime Minister’s assistant. They exchanged contact information – it was not yet Shabbat – to see whether, even after this difficult encounter, the Prime Minister would be willing to meet.
Shabbat: Friday evening, we are hosted by Rabbi Ben Elton and his wife Hinda, together with their three beautiful children. Ben, a musmach of Yeshivat Chovevei Torah, has carried his community with wisdom and care. Not wanting to sound too fatherly – but I am so proud.
Around the table, the conversation is heavy. I find myself thinking that this must be what Jewish discussions sounded like in Germany, Poland, and Austria in the early 1930s – not yet ’37 or ’38, after Kristallnacht, but ’32, ’33.
I am engulfed by sadness. All of our lives, we “never again” Jews said, what happened then can never happen again, but it’s here, and if the antisemitism is not stopped now, it’ll spiral and threaten to consume us all.
