Two Gunmen Took Her Friend. She Refuses to Let Her Identity Be Erased
A Moment of Peace Before Tragedy
Two gunmen took her friend She won – Rabbi Eli Schlanger reclined in his chair, a relaxed posture that belied the tension of the day. “What are you thinking?” Nikki Goldstein asked him. “I am completely happy,” Schlanger replied. “I love my wife and children, and I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to be doing. I’m completely on my path.” The conversation unfolded on a summer morning, with light rain drizzling outside Goldstein’s home. Schlanger was late for their Zoom call, but they soon settled into their usual rhythm of winding, philosophical discussions.
Goldstein described herself as a “blonde, blue-eyed, White-passing woman” who sometimes felt ashamed of her Jewish identity. Schlanger, a bespectacled, bearded man in his orthodox rabbi attire, gently disagreed. “There’s no such thing as a secular Jew,” he said. “We’re just Jews.” Two weeks after that exchange, Schlanger was leading a Hannukah celebration at Bondi Beach, where the festive mood was disrupted by gunfire.
The Attack at Bondi Beach
At 7 p.m., Goldstein’s phone buzzed with texts from friends: Gunshots at Bondi Beach. Lots of sirens and helicopters en route… Her stomach dropped. Schlanger was meant to be at the event. “Oh God, could be MY rabbi,” she wrote to a friend. As details spread, Goldstein broke down, collapsing into her husband’s arms and wailing like a wounded animal.
The attack, carried out by two ISIS supporters, killed Schlanger and 14 others during a celebration symbolizing light’s triumph over darkness. Families gathered for menorah lighting, children enjoying jelly-filled doughnuts and face paint, when the tranquility shattered. Antisemitism, labeled “the world’s oldest virus of hate,” struck that day seven months ago, but its impact resonates deeply in the U.S. today.
A Trauma That Shaped Her Response
Goldstein’s fear now mirrors that of many American Jews, who feel increasingly vulnerable in public spaces. The Anti-Defamation League (ADL) notes that assaults against Jews in the U.S. hit a 46-year peak last year. Armed guards now patrol synagogues, community centers, and schools, while 73% of Jews report encountering antisemitism online. Their anxieties are justified, as recent incidents—like the killing of two Israeli Embassy staff in Washington and a elderly Jewish woman in Colorado—underscore a rising tide of hostility.
“America has totally passed the Rubicon” on antisemitism, said Florida Rep. Jared Moskowitz, a Jewish lawmaker. He and others from both parties cite an uptick in personal threats. “Jews are starting to hide in this country,” he added, “and that’s the telltale sign we’re on a very scary trajectory.”
The Resurgence of Anti-Semitic Sentiment
The surge in antisemitism is partly fueled by the Middle East conflict. After Hamas terrorists attacked Israel on Oct. 7, killing 1,200 people, Israel’s invasion of Gaza led to at least 72,000 Palestinian deaths. This war has intensified anti-Jewish sentiment not only in the U.S. and Australia but across Europe as well. Yet, antisemitism’s roots stretch back centuries.
During the Middle Ages, Jews were accused of “Christ killers” and expelled from European nations. Pogroms swept Russia in the late 19th century, and Leo Frank, a Jewish man, became a symbol of racial injustice during Jim Crow. Nazi Germany’s Holocaust claimed six million Jewish lives, proving the enduring nature of this hatred. Goldstein and Schlanger, in their book “Conversations with My Rabbi: Timeless Teachings for a Fractured World,” offer insights into how Judaism can help non-Jews navigate these challenges and find meaning in a divided world.
