In the shadow of Bondi, the response from ordinary Australians gives cause for hope

I attended Shul on Shabbat morning in Sydney a couple of weeks ago, at the start of a family holiday. A man with a long grey beard and friendly demeanour approached me and asked what brought me there. I explained, then expressed my condolences for the community, given that the Bondi Beach attack had taken place just six days earlier. He looked me in the eye and confided: “I lost my son-in-law at Bondi.” Nothing I could say seemed adequate in response.

Arriving in this wondrous country just days after the tragedy felt surreal. The juxtaposition of sunshine, beaches and natural beauty jarred with the ugly evil we had been reading about in the news.

As we mixed with the community and spoke to people, the emotions we encountered were raw grief and anger, tempered by a determination and resilience to get through. An old friend of my wife’s, expecting to spend a normal working week at the office, had instead attended several funerals and shiva houses. His description of the raw pain on display at one funeral made us shudder. Another friend told me of a family member’s wedding that had been due to take place the following week, to be officiated by Chabad Rabbi Eli Schlanger. Since he was tragically killed in the attack, the wedding was postponed and the community is still coming to terms with the loss of this special leader.

There was considerable anger too in the community, who felt that antisemitism had been left to fester and that an attack such as this was the inevitable consequence. The Chief Rabbi arrived in the country days after the attack and, in media interviews, reiterated the line used after the Manchester attack on Yom Kippur: shocked but not surprised.

The protests over the war in Gaza had crossed the line from peaceful demonstrations into forums where antisemitic rhetoric was used with impunity. Many in the Sydney community were angry with the Prime Minister, Anthony Albanese, and as an illustration of this, he was booed and not given a speaking slot at the vigil at Bondi held one week after the attack.

In a perverse irony, the Sydney Jewish community, numbering around 45,000, has a large number of Holocaust survivors and their descendants. In fact, Australia boasts the largest population of Holocaust survivors per capita outside of Israel. Like so many diaspora communities, it makes an outsized contribution to national business, public life and civil society. The overall Jewish community in Australia, numbering a little over 100,000, is part of the tapestry of a migrant society. The national anthem even carries this message of welcome: “For those who’ve come across the seas, we’ve boundless plains to share.”

In many ways, therefore, the attack on the Jewish community was an attack on the Australian ideal. It also took place at the iconic Bondi Beach, a place which holds near-spiritual significance for many people and is itself a tight-knit community of regular visitors, volunteers and workers. Perhaps this explains the genuine and extremely moving outpouring of grief and empathy from the Australian public after the terrorist barbarism. There were countless stories we heard and first-hand experiences we had. Walking with a local family on Shabbat, a woman approached our kippah-wearing friend and held out her hand to clasp his, saying “I am so sorry for your loss.” The next day, as we visited Bondi Beach, a plane flew overhead releasing a banner which stated simply: “Love from Australia for our Jewish community.” A local Rabbi recounted that walking in the Bondi area in the days after the attack, he was stopped time and again by people wishing to express their condolences. He told a story of a congregant seeing a man on the local metro train whom he didn’t recognise. He engaged him in conversation and the man explained he was not Jewish but was wearing a head covering in solidarity with the Jewish community.

The reaction of the Australian public was a heart-warming rejoinder to the demoralising attack. Of all the experiences we had, perhaps the most moving was reserved for the last day of our holiday. Before the start of play on Sunday of the final Ashes Test at the Sydney Cricket Ground, the police and emergency services came out onto the field and were given a rapturous reception. The loudest standing ovation from the capacity crowd went to Ahmed al-Ahmed, who famously confronted one of the gunmen. In this act of heroism, he challenged the notion of automatic enmity between Muslims and Jews and demonstrated the best of Australia’s courage and tolerance.

As the Sydney community digests what happened and faces a long road ahead of mourning and grieving, al-Ahmed’s heroism and the response of ordinary Australians are slivers of hope to hang on to.

Zaki Cooper is a Vice-President of the Council of Christians and Jews.