The following is the opinion and analysis of the writer:
Yehuda Ceitlin
During a recent trip to Europe, I had a few free hours to spend in Paris. So I walked to the iconic Eiffel Tower, sat on a concrete bench facing it at Esplanade Joseph Wresinski, and watched its golden lights as I enjoyed a flaky almond croissant I picked up from a kosher patisserie.
At the lookout, a diverse mix of people from all walks of life gathered. Elders stood alongside families with children, couples on dates, groups of teenagers, and solo tourists. There were no instructions on how to behave, no enforcement of any kind. Yet people offered to take photos for one another, stepped aside for a better view, and showed simple courtesy. There was a shared sense of humanity that hovered in the air.
In the area, a group of Iranian dissidents was handing out dates and playing Persian music. One of them, named Bayan, approached me with a smile and made a point to tell me that "We love your people and Israel. It is just the ayatollahs who don't." It felt as if the light of the tower had created, even briefly, a kind of communal courtyard for the world.
I was still carrying that spirit until the horrific events happened on Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia, on Sunday, Dec. 14, the first night of Chanukah.
As the Jewish community gathered there to celebrate the Festival of Lights, terrorists opened fire on the crowd. They killed several people, including Chabad Rabbi Eli Schlanger and Holocaust survivor Alex Kleytman. They injured many more.
During that attack, we witnessed the bravery of Ahmed al Ahmed, a non-Jewish man who owns a fruit shop and is a father of two. He fought off one of the terrorists, risking his own life. He is currently in the hospital, where he has had surgery for bullet wounds to his arm and hand.
The hateful people who carried out this horrific attack tried to diminish the precious light that the eight-day Jewish holiday of Chanukah seeks to spread. But the light will not be diminished, not among Jews, and not in the world at large.
Some 2,200 years ago, the Greeks tried to suppress Jewish practices but were defeated. The Jewish people rededicated the Temple in Jerusalem, purifying it. When lighting the Menorah, they found only one jug of olive oil, which miraculously lasted eight days instead of one until new oil was prepared.
As part of that celebration, additional lights were lit throughout the courtyard as well. The light was made to spill outward, beyond the sacred interior, into the areas where the public could gather.
Chanukah established a new model of illumination for the Jewish people: light is meant to face outward. That is why the menorah is placed at the doorways of our homes and in public spaces. The sages encouraged us to kindle a light that does not remain private but touches the lives of people who may not have expected to encounter it.
That idea echoed in my mind as I looked at the Eiffel Tower and the community of strangers that converged around its beautiful light, and it comes to mind now as we grapple with the aftermath of the Sydney attack. Chanukah teaches us that the Jewish way to confront darkness is to shine light, not to retreat. In times of fear and uncertainty, our task is both simple and demanding: to stand with dignity, to reach across differences, and to bring light where it is needed most.
Follow these steps to easily submit a letter to the editor or guest opinion to the Arizona Daily Star.
