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In my small town, ‘that Jewish hut’ has turned Sukkot into a cross-cultural shelter of peace
On the weekend between Yom Kippur and Sukkot, Waterville city workers put up the frame for our community sukkah. They were careful to make sure that tree branches did not obscure the view of the stars and the night sky, and that sufficient room was left for a Wabanaki storytelling festival in the town square scheduled during the same week.
This was the second year our municipal workers erected “that Jewish hut.” I never thought Waterville would support the Jewish community in building, hosting, and supporting our sukkah; it came about through an unexpected and somewhat painful discussion. For years, Waterville has hosted “Kringleville,” a community celebration of Santa Claus and Christmas. A non-Jewish member of the Waterville community challenged the practice, and demanded a menorah be placed next to the Christmas tree. Some community members supported this move; others wanted all public observances of religious festivals to end.
Our synagogue leadership was ambivalent about either option. I’ve never liked the idea of Hanukkah competing with Christmas, elevating a minor festival not because of its importance, but rather because of its proximity to a major holiday outside of our tradition. I also believe we should retain community events — religious or otherwise — that reinforce faith, community, and good will. I don’t believe that diminishing Christian festivals strengthens the Jewish community. In light of these values, we suggested a different path forward for the City of Waterville.
In a meeting with the city manager, our synagogue’s executive director, Melanie Weiss, suggested that rather than erect a menorah in the winter, we erect a sukkah in the fall. Why? Sukkot is a major Jewish festival in its own right, the city could provide support for our small synagogue that we actually needed and wanted (putting up a sukkah is hard work!), and we could leverage central Maine’s agricultural and multi-ethnic traditions to bring joy not only to the Jewish community, but to everyone in our region.
Sukkot is a festival about hospitality, joy and creative construction. In the wake of Oct. 7, our synagogue staff and board believed that inviting the greater community into our spaces was a better approach than pulling away behind walls. We wanted our public face to be welcoming, inclusive, beautiful, and proud. As such, in partnership with the Center for Small Town Jewish Life at Colby College, Waterville Creates (our local arts organization), Beth Israel Congregation, and the Waterville Public Schools, we spearheaded a citywide arts project so that everyone in town could contribute some kind of personal decoration to adorn our community sukkah.
In our first year, we organized an art project around “Welcoming our Ancestors,” teaching the greater community about ushpizin and providing a canvas for our neighbors to highlight their journeys from Lebanon, Quebec, Congo, Syria, Iraq, Lithuania and yes, Israel. This year (our second), our community art project charges participants to craft a “Map of Joy” depicting their personal journeys from origin points around the world to places of joyousness. Panels depicting heartfelt and arduous journeys from Homs, Syria, sit next to panels that highlight the vibrancy of Tel Aviv.
This year’s art project asked participates to create panels depicting personal journeys from places around the world. (Courtesy Center for Small Town Jewish Life)
On Erev Sukkot, we host a vegetarian potluck dinner with dishes from around the world, and we share the blessings of Sukkot with our neighbors. Before candle lighting, we show participants the lulav and etrog, and later we explain the story of Sukkot and its core values. In coordination with Waterville Adult Education and the Capital Area New Mainers Project, we invite translators to make our teaching accessible, and have printed materials in several languages that are spoken in local immigrant communities.
This project isn’t without its detractors. Some resent or oppose Jewish content and representation in public spaces, even if it is in equal measure to Christian, Muslim and Indigenous traditions. Some have asserted that our multifaith work is a way to evade discussions of Israel and Gaza Others fear that the sukkah will be desecrated or attacked. In essence, most of the opposition comes from antisemitic sentiment or the fear of it. And yet we have chosen to put up our sukkah with the support of city partners and with the vigilant protection of the Waterville Police Department. We refuse to acquiesce to the suspicion and hatred of others, or to the fear that it will be expressed.
The Waterville Jewish community and the Center for Small Town Jewish Life have chosen a unique response to this moment of increased Jewish vulnerability and alienation. We have reinforced local partnerships, introduced citizens from all walks of life to the beauty of the Jewish tradition, and invited them to participate, not just as observers, but as co-creators.
Even though there are potential risks, and deficiencies to this approach, it builds on the strengths and spirit of small town Jewish life. We affirm our place in our community through sharing our traditions, and placing them in a greater American and social context, one that emphasizes faith, family, and community. Building friendships and understanding may not protect us from all animus, but it does reduce suspicion and dehumanization. Our festival is made all the more joyous when we see our neighbors celebrating with us, and when we learn about their journeys, families and creative gifts.
Through constructing Sukkot in this way, our local Jewish community gains or develops or cultivates a greater sense of pride, happiness, fulfillment and “at homeness” in Waterville. And through erecting this temporary Jewish structure in shared civic space on Main Street, Waterville is stronger. Our prophets teach that when the world is ultimately redeemed on Sukkot, the Temple will become a house of prayer for all peoples. Although we are miles away from a rebuilt Jerusalem, we are beginning that redemptive process in Waterville, Maine, beam by beam, branch by branch, citizen by citizen.
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The post In my small town, ‘that Jewish hut’ has turned Sukkot into a cross-cultural shelter of peace appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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The call of this Hanukkah moment remains simple and urgent: Light candles everywhere. Even when we’re under attack.
The massacre in Sydney has left Jews around the world shaken and grieving. This act is far more than a heinous crime: It is a regression to darker times, when Jewish visibility itself carried mortal risk.
The commandment of Hanukkah is not simply to light candles, but to light them publicly – pirsumei nisa, the publicizing of the miracle. The point is not private consolation, but shared visibility. Jewish survival, the tradition teaches, is not meant to occur behind closed doors, but in full view.
Historically, however, it rarely did. In exile, Jews learned caution. The Talmud records how, in times of danger, the candles are to be moved indoors – lit discreetly, shielded from hostile eyes. This was not a theological revision but a concession to reality: When the public sphere is unsafe, Jewish life retreats into the private domain. For most of our history, this was our reality.
Modern democracies promised something different. Jews would no longer have to choose between safety and visibility. We could light openly again – on windowsills, in public squares, in front of city halls – because the surrounding society would protect us not merely by law, but by norm. Antisemitism would not just be illegal, it would be unthinkable.
The Sydney massacre, alongside countless incidents in societies Jews have long trusted, forces us to ask whether that promise is still being kept.
Jewish safety in the diaspora does not rest primarily on police presence or intelligence services – necessary though they are. It rests on something more fragile and more fundamental: a public culture in which Jews are not merely tolerated but embraced; in which antisemitism is not merely condemned after the fact but rejected instinctively and unequivocally as a violation of the moral order.
When Jews are attacked for being Jews, and the response is muted, conditional, or delayed, the message is unmistakable. Jews may still live here, but only quietly.
That is why the response to Sydney must not be withdrawal, but the exact opposite. We cannot and will not retreat into hiding our light. The call of this moment is simple and urgent: Light candles everywhere.
Jewish communities and organizations must orchestrate public Hanukkah candle lightings in the central squares of democratic cities across Europe, across the English-speaking world, wherever Jews live under the protection of free societies. Not hidden ceremonies. Not fenced-off gatherings on the margins. But civic events, hosted openly and proudly, with the participation of local and national leaders – and of fellow non-Jewish citizens.
This is not unprecedented. Every year, a Hanukkah menorah is lit at the White House. The symbolism is powerful precisely because it is mundane: Jewish light belongs at the heart of the civic space, not as an exception, not as an act of charity, but as a matter of course. That model should now be replicated widely.
Israeli diplomatic missions, together with local Jewish organizations, should work actively with municipalities and governments to make these public lightings happen – not merely as acts of Jewish resilience, but as declarations of democratic commitment. Because this is not only a Jewish question.
A society in which Jews feel compelled to hide their symbols is a society already retreating from its own values. Antisemitism is never a stand-alone phenomenon; it is the canary in the democratic coal mine. Where Jews are unsafe, pluralism is already fraying.
Lighting candles in public squares will not undo the horror of Sydney. But it will answer it – not with fear, and not with silence, but with a refusal to normalize xenophobia, antisemitism, and Jewish invisibility.
The ancient question of Hanukkah – where we light – has returned as a modern moral test of democratic societies and leaders worldwide. Where Jewish light is extinguished, democracy itself is cast into shadow. If it can still be lit openly, with the full backing of the societies Jews call home, then the promise of democratic life remains alive.
Our light must not hide. Not now. Never again.
The post The call of this Hanukkah moment remains simple and urgent: Light candles everywhere. Even when we’re under attack. appeared first on The Forward.
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Australia shooting terrifies Jews worldwide — and strengthens the case for Israel
If the shooters who targeted Jews on a beach in Australia while they were celebrating Hanukkah thought their cowardly act would turn the world against Israel, they were exactly wrong: Randomly killing people at a holiday festival in Sydney makes the case for Israel.
The world wants Jews to disown Israel over Gaza, but bad actors keep proving why Jews worldwide feel such an intense need to have a Jewish state.
Think about it. The vast majority of Jews who settled in Israel went there because they felt they had nowhere else to go. To call the modern state “the ingathering of exiles” softpedals reality and tells only half the story. The ingathering was a result of an outpouring of hate and violence.
Attacking Jews is the best way to rationalize Zionism.
Judaism’s holidays are often (humorously) summarized as, “They tried to kill us, they failed, let’s eat.” Zionism is simply, “They tried to kill us, they failed, let’s move.”
Theodor Herzl, the founder of modern Zionism, didn’t have a religious or even a tribal bone in his body. He would have been happy to stay in Vienna writing light plays and eating sacher torte. But bearing witness to the rise of antisemitism, he saw the Land of Israel as the European Jew’s best option.
The Eastern European pogroms, the Holocaust, the massacre of Jews in Iraq in 1941 — seven years before the State of Israel was founded — the attacks on Jews throughout the Middle East after Israel’s founding, the oppression of Jews in the former Soviet Union — these were what sent Jews to Israel.
How many Australians are thinking the same way this dark morning?
There’s a lot to worry about in Israel. It is, statistically, more dangerous to be Jewish there than anywhere else in the world. But most Jews would rather take their chances on a state created to protect them, instead of one that just keeps promising it will – especially when the government turns a blind eye to antisemitic incitement and refuses to crack down on violent protests, as Australia has.
“For over a year we have seen racist mobs impeding on the rights and freedoms of ordinary Australians. We have been locked out of parts of our cities because the police could not ensure our safety. Students have been told to stay away from campuses. We have been locked down in synagogues,” Alex Ryvchin, the co-CEO of the Executive Council of Australian Jewry, wrote a year ago, after the firebombing attack on a Melbourne synagogue.
Since then a childcare centre in Sydney’s east was set alight by vandals, cars were firebombed, two Australian nurses threatened to kill Jewish patients, to name a few antisemitic incidents. There were 1,654 antisemitic incidents logged in Australia from October 2024 to September 2025 — in a country with about 117,000 Jews.
“The most dangerous thing about terrorism is the over-reaction to it,” the philosopher Yuval Noah Harari said. He was talking about the invasion of Iraq after 9/11, the crackdown on civil liberties and legitimate protest. But surely it’s equally dangerous to underreact to terrorism and terrorist rhetoric.
Israel’s destruction of Gaza following the Hamas attack of Oct. 7, 2023 led to worldwide protests, which is understandable, if not central to why tensions have escalated.
But condemning civilian casualties and calling for Palestinian self-determination — something many Jews support — too often crosses into calls for destroying Israel, demonizing Israelis and their Jews. That’s how Jews heard the phrase “globalize the intifada” — as a justification for the indiscriminate violence against civilians.
When they took issue with protesters cosplaying as Hamas and justifying the Oct. 7 massacre, that’s what they meant. And look at what happened in Bondi Beach, they weren’t wrong. Violence leads to violence, and so does support for violence.
Chabad, which hosted the Hanukkah celebration in Sydney, has always leaned toward a more open door policy with less apparent security than other Jewish institutions. But one of the reasons it has been so effective at outreach has also made it an easy target.
As a result of the Bondi shooting, Chabad will likely increase security, as will synagogues around the world. Jewish institutions will think hard about publicly advertising their events. Law enforcement and public officials will, thankfully, step up protection, at least for a while. These are all the predictable result of an attack that, given the unchecked antisemitic rhetoric and weak responses to previous antisemitic incidents, was all but inevitable.
It’s not inevitable that Australian Jews would now move to Israel, no more than it would have been for Pittsburgh’s Jewish community to uproot itself and move to Tel Aviv after the 2018 Tree of Life massacre. That didn’t happen, because ultimately the risk still doesn’t justify it.
But these shootings, and the constant drip of violent rhetoric, vandalism and confrontation raise a question: If you want to kill Jews in Israel, and you kill them outside Israel, where, exactly, are we supposed to go?
The post Australia shooting terrifies Jews worldwide — and strengthens the case for Israel appeared first on The Forward.
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These are the victims of the Bondi Beach Hanukkah celebration shooting in Sydney
(JTA) — A local rabbi, a Holocaust survivor and a 12-year-old girl are among those killed during the shooting attack Sunday on a Hanukkah celebration in Sydney, Australia.
Here’s what we know about the 11 people murdered in the attack, which took place at a popular beachside playground where more than 1,000 people had congregated to celebrate the first night of the holiday, as well as about those injured.
This story will be updated.
Eli Schlanger, rabbi and father of five
Schlanger was the Chabad emissary in charge of Chabad of Bondi, which had organized the event. He had grown up in England but moved to Sydney 18 years ago, where he was raising his five children with his wife Chaya. Their youngest was born just two months ago.
In addition to leading community events through Chabad of Bondi, Schlanger worked with Jewish prisoners in Australian prisons. “He flew all around the state, to go visit different people in jail, literally at his own expense,” Mendy Litzman, a Sydney Jew who responded as a medic to the attack, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Last year, amid a surge in antisemitic incidents in Australia, Schlanger posted a video of himself dancing and celebrating Hanukkah, promoting lighting menorahs as “the best response to antisemitism.”
The best response to antisemitism. Happy Chanukah! pic.twitter.com/33RSGYzhUY
— Rabbi Eli Schlanger (@SchlangerEli) December 17, 2024
Two months before his murder, he published an open letter to Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese urging him to rescind his “act of betrayal” of the Jewish people. The letter was published on Facebook the same day, Sept. 21, that Albanese announced he would unilaterally recognize an independent Palestinian state.
Alex Kleytman, Holocaust survivor originally from Ukraine
Kleytman had come to the Bondi Beach Hanukkah celebration annually for years, his wife Larisa told The Australian. She said he was protecting her when he was shot. The couple, married for six decades, has two children and 11 grandchildren.
The Australia reported that Kleytman was a Holocaust survivor who had passed World War II living with his family in Siberia.
12-year-old girl
Alex Ryvchin, co-CEO of the Executive Council of Australian Jewry, told CNN that a friend “lost his 12-year-old daughter, who succumbed to her wounds in hospital.” The girl’s name was not immediately released.
Dozens of people were injured
- Yossi Lazaroff, the Chabad rabbi at Texas A&M University, said his son had been shot while running the event for Chabad of Bondi. “Please say Psalms 20 & 21 for my son, Rabbi Leibel Lazaroff, יהודה לייב בן מאניא who was shot in a terrorist attack at a Chanukah event he was running for Chabad of Bondi in Sydney, Australia,” he tweeted.
- Yaakov “Yanky” Super, 24, was on duty for Hatzalah at the event when he was shot in the back, Litzman said. “He started screaming on his radio that he needs back up, he was shot. I heard it and I responded to the scene. I was the closest backup. I was one of the first medical people on the scene,” Litzman said. He added, “We just went into action and saved a lot of lives, including one of our own.”
The post These are the victims of the Bondi Beach Hanukkah celebration shooting in Sydney appeared first on The Forward.
