Two gunmen took her friend. She won’t let them take something else

Two Gunmen Took Her Friend. She Won’t Let Them Take Something Else

Two gunmen took her friend She won – On a quiet summer morning, the rain tapping softly against Nikki Goldstein’s windows, she sat with Rabbi Eli Schlanger in a Zoom call. He leaned back, exhaled a breath of contentment, and let out a grin that seemed to carry the weight of a child’s joy. “What are you thinking?” she asked, curiosity lacing her tone. “I am completely happy,” Schlanger replied. “I love my wife and my children. I am doing exactly what I am meant to be doing. I am completely on my path.” The conversation was a blend of personal reflection and philosophical musings, a routine exchange that would soon be overshadowed by tragedy.

Two weeks later, the atmosphere at Bondi Beach turned deadly. Rabbi Schlanger was leading a Hanukkah celebration when the gunfire erupted. Families gathered under twinkling lights, their children sipping jelly-filled doughnuts and sketching faces with paint, while the menorah’s flame was about to be lit to symbolize the victory of light over darkness. At 7 p.m., Goldstein’s phone buzzed with urgent messages: “Gunshots at Bondi Beach. Lots of sirens and choppers en route.” Her heart plummeted. “Oh God, could be MY rabbi,” she texted a friend, her voice trembling with fear.

Goldstein’s scream echoed through the chaos as news of the shooting spread. She collapsed into her husband’s arms, tears mingling with rainwater outside. Her grief was raw, a visceral response to the violence that had claimed Schlanger and 14 others. The attack, carried out by ISIS supporters, marked a chilling moment in a global resurgence of antisemitism. “Antisemitism has been called the world’s oldest form of hatred,” Goldstein later recalled. “But that day, it felt like something new was happening.”

A Growing Threat in America

The events at Bondi Beach resonated deeply in the United States, where Jewish communities are increasingly haunted by similar fears. The Anti-Defamation League (ADL) reported that assaults against Jews in the U.S. reached a 46-year high last year. From synagogues to community centers, armed guards now patrol public spaces, and more Jewish individuals are choosing to conceal their Star of David necklaces. Over 73% of Jews surveyed say they experience antisemitism online, often in the form of conspiracy theories or inflammatory rhetoric. These concerns are not unfounded.

Recent months have seen a surge in antisemitic incidents, with Jewish lawmakers from both major parties voicing alarm. Florida Representative Jared Moskowitz, a Jewish legislator, described the situation as “totally passed the Rubicon.” “Jews are starting to hide in this country,” he said during a televised interview. “That is the telltale sign we’re on a very scary trajectory.” His words reflect a growing sense of vulnerability among American Jews, who now question whether their public presence is safe.

Goldstein, who once felt ashamed of her Jewish identity, has become a vocal advocate for combating this rising tide. “We’re just Jews,” Schlanger gently reminded her during their earlier talks, correcting her playful joke about secular Judaism. That exchange, though lighthearted, underscored a deeper truth: the essence of Jewish faith is not defined by outward practices but by the values it holds. Goldstein’s survival from pneumonia—a miracle she credits to Schlanger’s presence in the hospital ICU—has only strengthened her resolve to share these lessons.

The Roots of Hatred

Antisemitism is not a new phenomenon. Its origins stretch back centuries, rooted in ancient prejudices and historical tensions. During the Middle Ages, Jews were vilified as “Christ killers,” leading to their expulsion from countries like England and Spain. In the late 19th century, anti-Jewish riots—pogroms—swept through Russia, leaving countless lives in ruin. Even in the Jim Crow era, Jewish individuals faced targeted violence, such as the infamous lynching of Leo Frank in 1915.

The Holocaust, of course, stands as the most harrowing example of systemic antisemitism. Nazi Germany’s genocide of six million Jews remains a defining moment in history. Yet, the hatred that fueled those atrocities has not disappeared. In fact, it has evolved, finding new life in contemporary conflicts. The war in Gaza, ignited by Hamas’ attack on Israel on October 7, has reignited global tensions. Over 1,200 Israelis were killed in that assault, prompting a military response that has led to the deaths of at least 72,000 Palestinians. The conflict has also fueled a wave of antisemitism, not just in the U.S. and Australia, but across Europe.

Goldstein and Schlanger’s collaboration, captured in their new book Conversations with My Rabbi: Timeless Teachings for a Fractured World, explores how these historical patterns intersect with modern challenges. The book retraces their dialogues, which began in a hospital room where Goldstein was recovering from a severe illness. She had been placed on a ventilator after pneumonia overwhelmed her lungs, and doctors warned her family of the worst. Schlanger’s presence, both as a spiritual guide and a source of comfort, became a turning point in her journey.

Messages of Hope in a Fractured World

Goldstein’s story is a testament to the resilience of Jewish faith and the power of connection. In the aftermath of the Bondi Beach tragedy, she found solace in the teachings that Schlanger had once shared with her. His emphasis on finding joy in daily life and staying rooted in tradition offered a counterpoint to the fear and anger that now surround Jewish communities. “Why do Jewish people evoke so much hatred?” she asked in one of their later conversations. Schlanger’s answer was simple: “Because we are the ones who carry the light.”

Their book, a blend of personal anecdotes and universal wisdom, aims to bridge the gap between faith and skepticism. It challenges readers to look beyond the headlines and consider the deeper lessons of Judaism. “Is there a way for a non-Jew to see past the swirling conspiracy theories and debates about Israel and actually learn something from Judaism?” Goldstein pondered. The answer, she believes, lies in the stories of those who have faced hatred but still chose to persevere.

Goldstein’s experience at Bondi Beach, where the air was filled with the sound of a shofar—a symbol of Jewish tradition—has become a powerful metaphor. “The gunmen took my friend,” she said, “but they couldn’t take the spirit of Judaism that lives in me.” Her words echo the struggles of countless Jewish individuals who now walk a delicate line between visibility and safety. In a world where antisemitism is once again on the rise, Goldstein and Schlanger’s work serves as a reminder that faith is not a weakness, but a strength that can endure even in the face of hatred.

Their book, currently in publication, has already sparked discussions among readers and scholars. It is a collection of conversations that began in the ICU, where Goldstein’s survival seemed uncertain, and grew into a shared mission to inspire others. “We are not just victims of hatred,” Schlanger wrote in one of the book’s chapters. “We are the keepers of a legacy that teaches us to find light in darkness.”

Goldstein’s journey from a woman who felt ashamed of her heritage to a fierce advocate for Jewish resilience is emblematic of a broader shift. In an era where antisemitism threatens to resurge, she and Schlanger offer a message of hope: that even in the face of violence, the values of Judaism—compassion, community, and courage—can guide us toward a better future. As they put it in the book, “The fight for our faith is also a fight for the soul of humanity.”