My Rabbi Died in the Bondi Shooting: Lessons from His Life

(SeaPRwire) –   On the evening of December 14, an unthinkable tragedy unfolded.

Rabbi Eli Schlanger, my personal rabbi, organized a Chanukah candle-lighting ceremony on Sydney’s Bondi Beach. Bondi is where Eli’s Chabad synagogue is based, and it has been a peaceful, idyllic haven for Jewish people since the early 1900s. Jewish restaurants and social clubs sit side by side with tattoo parlors, Italian pizza shops, and stylish boutiques. It draws visitors and residents from every corner of the globe, and it was Eli’s home neighborhood.

For 18 years, he ran the beloved annual “Chanukah by the Sea” gathering. It was the quintessential Eli event—families came together, united in joy and prayer, to celebrate the festival of light. It aligned perfectly with Eli’s purpose and mission; he often said, “I want the whole world to light up with the Jewish flame.”

Against today’s backdrop of vicious antisemitism, he was well aware that being openly and identifiably Jewish in a public space carried some risks—so much so that he arranged for both police coverage and extra security for the event. But when I once asked him if he feared being an open, proud Jew, he simply said, “When they hate us, we don’t hide, we don’t cower, we become even more Jewish.”

Witnesses report that at roughly 6:41 p.m., two gunmen opened fire. Eli had just posed for a photo after helping another person with their tefillin, and just a minute or so later, he was dead.

That day, I had been attending a lunch with friends. This prior commitment kept my husband Rowan and me from attending the Bondi ceremony, and it almost certainly saved our lives. At 7:00 p.m., in the lunch group chat, we were all messaging back and forth to thank the hosts when Katrina, one of our lunch guests who works as a journalist, sent a text: “Gunshots at Bondi Beach. Lots of sirens and helicopters on the way.”

Before I could even process the words, my stomach sank, and I screamed down the stairs to Rowan, “A shooting at Bondi… Eli.”

We rushed to turn on the television. Rowan, ever his calm self, tried to soothe me, saying, “Surely it’s not him, don’t jump to the worst conclusions, Eli will be okay,” but I was already shaking, and tears streamed down my face.

Moments later, Katrina texted again: “Nine dead apparently. Menorah lighting ceremony. Attack on the Jewish community.”

Even with no confirmation of who had been killed, I wrote in the group chat: “Oh God that could be MY rabbi.”

Just an hour earlier at lunch, I had been telling my friends about the joy Eli brought to my life, and they were captivated by what I shared.

By 8:00 p.m., I received a message from a friend in the Melbourne Jewish community. She sent a photo of Eli alongside the headline: “Breaking News. Rabbi Eli Schlanger has been identified as one of the victims in the massacre at a Chanukah event on Bondi Beach, Sydney, Australia.”

My husband and I fell into each other’s arms. Rowan’s body trembled as he buried his head in my shoulder. I wailed like a wounded animal, my body collapsing under the heavy weight of grief.

I barely slept that night, but when I woke up the next morning, I knew for certain that Eli’s legacy—his mission to bring light and love to the world—would not die with him. Through all our hours of conversation, he had already prepared me to be his torch-bearer.

Rowan and I attended Eli’s funeral. The Honorable Chris Minns, Premier of New South Wales, was there, along with other politicians and a huge crowd of friends and family. Through a veil of tears and deep pain, Eli’s father-in-law Rabbi Yehoram Ulman, the chief rabbi whom Eli assisted at the Bondi Chabad Centre, spoke to the coffin during his eulogy.

“Eli, from the moment you married Chaya you became a son to us as much as she is our daughter. And you became everything to me—my hands, my head, my heart, my feet,” I remember him saying. “I relied on you for everything. You’re my son, my friend, my confidant.”

Rabbi Eli Schlanger was only 41 years old when he was gunned down mercilessly, senselessly by terrorists. During their shooting spree, carried out with high-powered hunting weapons, the two men killed 16 people and injured at least 40 more. Among the dead were a 10-year-old girl and an 87-year-old Holocaust survivor. Eli’s two-month-old baby was injured in the attack, suffering a severe shrapnel wound to his leg. Chaya, Eli’s wife, also sustained shrapnel wounds to her back.

I feel incredibly lucky to have known Rabbi Eli Schlanger. He left behind a beautiful young wife and five wonderful children. Their baby will never get to know his father.

To me, Eli was a Jedi knight. His lightsaber was the love he radiated. Filling the world with joy was his raison d’être, his fuel and his compass. Eli cultivated a place within himself where his light merged with God’s, and every person who met him felt it instantly. I felt it. Everyone did. And it was as magnetic as the sun pulling planets into its orbit.

Eli would hate for me to dwell on sadness; in fact, he would only want me to focus on the light. 

May his memory be a blessing.

This excerpt was adapted with permission from CONVERSATIONS WITH MY RABBI: Timeless Teachings for a Fractured World by Rabbi Eli Schlanger and Nikki Goldstein.