In the wake of violence against Jews, we must commit to the light | Opinion
I write these words with sorrow following the terrorist attack at a Menorah lighting in Sydney that murdered 15 Jews, among them Rabbi Eli Schlanger, a devoted emissary of the Lubavitcher Rebbe and a cherished leader of his community. A Menorah lighting is meant to proclaim light, joy, and faith in the public square. To turn that moment into a scene of bloodshed is not only an assault on Jews, but an assault on the very idea that goodness can be shared openly, without fear.
In the days since, people have been asking a painful and urgent question: What are we supposed to do in times as dark as these? It is a natural question. When evil feels overwhelming, when violence intrudes even into sacred spaces, it is tempting to believe that history is simply happening to us—that we are trapped in circumstances beyond our control.
A college student once visited the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the foremost Jewish leader of the modern era. The student came with deep intellectual and philosophical questions. The Rebbe answered them carefully—and then did something unexpected. He reversed roles and began asking questions of his own: How many Jewish students are there where you study? How many are involved in Jewish life? And what are you doing to bring others in?
The student was taken aback. He had not come to be challenged. He began, politely and eloquently, “In the situation in which I find myself…” when the Rebbe stopped him mid-sentence. “Nobody finds themselves in a situation,” the Rebbe said. “You put yourself in a situation. And if you put yourself in that situation, you can put yourself in another situation.”
That moment, the student later said, changed his life. His name was Jonathan Sacks, and he went on to become Chief Rabbi of the British Empire and one of the great Jewish leaders and moral voices of our time.
That lesson matters today because society does not simply “find itself” in dark times. Society creates the times it lives in. This attack did not happen out of nowhere. It happened in a city where, after Oct. 7, mobs openly chanted “Gas the Jews.” It happened where thousands marched, chanting ‘Globalize the Intifada’, a call to export the campaign of terror that once plagued Israeli buses and cafés into cities around the world.
We now know what “Globalize the Intifada” looks like. It looks like gunning down a young couple at the Jewish Museum in DC, like firebombing a Holocaust survivor in Colorado, and like murdering Jews lighting the Menorah in Sydney. When people chant “globalize the intifada,” we must finally accept that they mean it.
Which means something else must also be true: if they mean it when they call for terror, then we must mean it when we pledge to defend our values. We must mean it when we reject hatred. And we must mean it when we commit to more light.
The Lubavitcher Rebbe taught that in a place of great darkness, a small flame can cast an extraordinary light. That is not poetry alone — it is instruction. Terror thrives on fear, silence, and retreat. Chanukah responds with presence, courage, and growth. Each night, we do not merely relight the Menorah; we add to it.
I mean it when I say that I am committing to doing more. In the coming year, our Chabad center in Lexington plans to expand — physically, educationally, and spiritually. We will reach more students, more families, and more seekers. As Chanukah ends, we do not extinguish the light; we build upon it.
When we say “Am Yisrael Chai”— the people of Israel live — we mean it. We mean that Jewish life will be visible, confident, and compassionate. And we mean that we will work to create a society where hatred and violence are rejected, and the presence of G-d is felt.
Rabbi Shlomo Litvin is Director of Chabad of the Bluegrass.