Cantor Stephen Freedman
“This is not the Australia I know and love.”
I heard these words over and over again in the days following the massacre at Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia. Dozens upon dozens of non-Jewish Australians sought me out to express their sorrow, horror, outrage and grief at the hate-inspired killings perpetrated by a father and son who pledged their allegiance to the Islamic State.
I was serving as the Jewish clergy person aboard a cruise ship bound from Singapore to Australia; it set sail on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, Dec. 14. Little did I know that a few hours later, at the first of eight nights of candle lighting for Chanukah, I would hear the preliminary reports of a mass shooting at a Chabad-sponsored ceremony at Bondi Beach. I promised the two dozen or so people in attendance that I would address the tragedy at our candle lighting the following evening.
Ironically, of the 700 passengers aboard ship, more than half were Australian, many of them residents of Sydney; most were not Jewish. Yet they too experienced the pain which we Jews were feeling and felt compelled to express their solidarity with us as a Jewish community.
Shirley, a social worker turned author; Heather, whose daughter married a Jew and is studying to convert; Paul, a retired physician; Roy, a deacon at his church. These are but a few of the many I got to know over the course of three weeks.
What made them memorable to me was that not only did they speak of their pain, but they also acted on it. How? By joining for the candle lighting ceremonies on each of the following seven nights, by attending the three Kabbalat Shabbat services and by sharing in the group dinners which followed those services. They did not just pay lip service to the Jewish community; they aligned themselves in a personal and tangible way.
Each candle lighting offered an opportunity for us to come together, Jew and non-Jew alike, to mourn but also to celebrate, to reflect on the terrible massacre which had just taken place and to relive the ancient battle for religious freedom. We processed a range of emotions together and bonded as a community of new friends.
At the first Kabbalat Shabbat service, I reflected on the massacre and its aftermath, chanted Eil Malei Rachamim — the memorial prayer — and recited the Mi Shebeirach prayer for healing in support of those who were wounded. Some three dozen people, Jew and non-Jew alike, were in attendance.
The cruise ship made port in Sydney for three days, affording me the opportunity to visit the site of the massacre. Though most of the makeshift memorials had already been cleared away, there was one stark reminder: the menorah was still in place on the beach, its individual candle holders draped in black. I stood beside it and chanted Eil Malei Rachamim. A couple who was strolling along the beach stopped to listen; when I finished, they hugged my wife Randi and me. They too were not Jewish; they too had tears in their eyes as they mourned with us. It was a profoundly emotional moment.
We then walked to the footbridge from which the gunmen shot. As we approached it, we were met by an unexpected sight: the entire inside wall was covered in messages of solidarity written in chalk. Jewish stars, a beautifully drawn menorah, “Am Yisrael Chai,” “love and light,” “we are so sorry,” “God bless humanity,” “rest in peace.” It was both restorative and healing to read those expressions of support. There were signs as well reminding everyone that this was the site of a terrible tragedy and asking for respect.
At a time when the Jewish world is faced with rising antisemitism, expressed both in hateful rhetoric and in violent acts, it was affirming to be in the company of non-Jews who don’t just tolerate us, but who love and respect us.
It was a privilege to fill the clergy role on this cruise, to be there for those who needed my support and counsel; in turn, I was uplifted by them. In more ways than one, it was an incredible journey which I will long remember.
Cantor Stephen Freedman is the spiritual leader at Congregation Or Shalom in Berwyn.