Everything Emanates from the Soul - Reflections from a conversation with Barry Palte

 Barry's featured in the book -  SuperConnector Manifesto  

I had lunch with Barry Palte yesterday, whose dad, Rodney  passed on last week in Africa. Barry is a family friend from Bulawayo, who I've known since we were in prams.  

Our conversation moved beyond business and everyday life into something deeper: philosophy, purpose, values, and the interconnectedness of humanity.

Barry shared a simple but powerful idea: everything emanates from the soul — the Neshama.

At our core, we are not defined by our possessions, titles, wealth, or achievements. We are spiritual beings having a human experience. The soul is the source from which our thoughts, actions, relationships, and ultimately our impact on the world emerge.

We spoke about the possibility that humanity is not alone in the universe. Given the vastness of space, the probability that there are no other intelligent beings beyond Earth seems almost impossible. Whether we call it a higher intelligence, a higher civilisation, God, or simply a force beyond our understanding, there appears to be something greater connecting us all.

Perhaps we are all part of a much larger #matrix of existence.

One of the most profound observations Barry made was that life behaves like a mirror.

• If you smile at the world, the world often smiles back.
• If you help others, opportunities somehow find their way back to you.
• If you bring kindness, generosity, and positivity into your interactions, those qualities tend to return multiplied.

Conversely, when we act with selfishness, dishonesty, or malice, those actions often create consequences that eventually find their way back to us.

The ancient idea of "what you sow, so shall you reap" remains as relevant today as ever.

The foundation of this philosophy is values.

• Values guide decisions.
• Values shape behaviour.
• Values determine culture.

When individuals live in alignment with their values, they experience greater clarity, purpose, and fulfilment. When Organisations operate according to authentic values, trust grows. When communities share common values, collaboration flourishes.

The magic happens when values align across every level:

• Individual
• Family
• Organisation
• Community
• Society
• Nation
• Globe

When people, corporations, communities, and countries act consistently with shared values, conflict diminishes and cooperation increases.

Perhaps peace is not something that governments negotiate into existence.

Perhaps peace begins when individuals choose to live according to values that honour both themselves and others.,,, treat your neighbour like you want to be treated. 

Maybe then - the path to a better world may be simpler than we imagine.

It begins with the soul.

It begins with values.

And it begins with recognising that we are all connected.

This conversation aligns so well with the Referron philosophy of the 5 C's Connection, Collaboration, Contribution, Continuity, and Community—the idea that when values align and people genuinely connect, extraordinary things can happen.

The Schlemiel - From the Shtetl to Hollywood

The Schlemiel, the Schlemazel and the Jewish Loser in the 21st Century

Reflections on Jacob Sacher’s exploration of Jewish identity, humour and cultural survival

Few characters have occupied such a unique place in Jewish culture as the Schlemiel and the Schlemazel.

The classic Yiddish saying explains the difference:

“The Schlemiel spills the soup. The Schlemazel is the person the soup lands on.”

The Schlemiel is not simply a loser. He is the eternal bungler, the dreamer, the fool whose flaws expose the absurdities of the world around him. The Schlemazel is the victim of circumstance, cursed by bad luck. Together they became symbols of a people navigating uncertainty, exclusion and survival.

Hershel: The Original Schlemiel

Consider the classic story:

Hershel enters a tavern and tells the owner:

“If you don’t give me dinner for free, I’ll do what my father did when he went to bed without dinner.”

Alarmed, the tavern owner gives Hershel the soup and asks:

“What did your father do when he didn’t get food?”

Hershel replies:

“He went to bed hungry.”

The joke is simple, but it reveals the essence of the Schlemiel. He possesses neither power nor status. Instead, he survives through wit, irony and self-deprecating humour.

From Sholem Aleichem to Fiddler on the Roof

The Schlemiel emerged from the stories of Sholem Aleichem, whose characters struggled against poverty, persecution and social change.

His most famous creation, Tevye, later became the inspiration for the musical Fiddler on the Roof.

These characters are perpetually caught between worlds:

• Tradition and modernity
• Religion and secularism
• Acceptance and exclusion
• Hope and disappointment

The Schlemiel’s failures are funny because they reflect universal human struggles.

The Comic Stance Toward Reality

The Schlemiel does something profound.

He places reality itself into question.

Rather than conquering the world, he exposes its contradictions.

Rather than winning, he survives.

Scholar Sander Gilman described the Schlemiel as someone seemingly in control of nothing—not even himself.

The character stumbles through life, unable to do what everyone else appears to do naturally.

Yet that very inadequacy becomes a lens through which society can be examined.

The Schlemiel as a Symbol of the Jewish Experience (or human experience! )

For centuries Jews occupied an uncertain social position.

Neither fully accepted nor entirely excluded.

Neither powerful nor powerless.

The Schlemiel became a metaphor for that existence.

He represented a people who survived through adaptability, humour and resilience rather than strength or dominance.

His weakness became his strength.

His vulnerability became his wisdom.

The American Schlemiel

As Jewish communities prospered in America, the Schlemiel evolved.

The hardships of the shtetl gave way to the anxieties of suburban life.

The outsider remained, but the context changed.

Writers such as Philip Roth in Portnoy’s Complaint and Herzog by Saul Bellow reinvented the character for modern America.

The new Schlemiel was educated, successful and comfortable.

Yet he remained trapped by self-doubt, neurosis and identity crises.

Woody Allen and George Costanza

No modern figures embody the Schlemiel more clearly than Woody Allen and George Costanza.

Both are intelligent yet perpetually defeated.

Both sabotage themselves.

Both see danger where others see opportunity.

George Costanza became perhaps the most recognisable Schlemiel in television history—a man who consistently turns every situation into disaster.

Yet audiences love him because his failures reveal uncomfortable truths about human nature.

The Neo-Schlemiel

The 21st century brought a new version.

Actors such as Ben Stiller and Andy Samberg portray characters who are no longer poor or excluded.

They are often successful, attractive and socially accepted.

Yet they remain awkward, insecure and perpetually caught in situations beyond their control.

The modern Schlemiel is no longer struggling for survival.

He is struggling for meaning.

Larry David: The Wealthy Loser

Perhaps no figure captures the post-modern Schlemiel better than Larry David.

Worth hundreds of millions of dollars, enormously successful, socially influential—yet still portrayed as a loser.

Why?

Because the Schlemiel is not defined by money.

He is defined by discomfort.

Larry David is forever caught in the middle:

• Too Jewish for some.
• Not Jewish enough for others.
• Too assimilated.
• Not assimilated enough.

The tension never disappears.

The circumstances change, but the character remains.

The Zohan and the Israeli Superhero

An interesting twist appears in You Don’t Mess with the Zohan.

The traditional weak Jewish male is replaced by an Israeli super-soldier.

Strong.

Confident.

Masculine.

Yet when he arrives in America he becomes absurd again.

The Schlemiel returns.

The comedy emerges from the gap between power and reality.

Sasha Baron Cohen and the Mirror Effect

Unlike earlier Schlemiels, Sacha Baron Cohen often turns the joke outward.

By placing outrageous characters into real situations, he exposes the prejudices and assumptions of others.

The audience begins laughing at the character.

Eventually they realise the joke is on everyone else.

The Post-Schlemiel

Today’s Schlemiel no longer represents poverty or persecution alone.

He represents uncertainty.

He exists in a world where material success is possible but identity remains complicated.

The old Schlemiel worried about survival.

The modern Schlemiel worries about belonging.

The post-Schlemiel asks:

Who am I when the barriers disappear?

What happens when the outsider becomes an insider?

Can someone be successful and still feel like a loser?

More Than a Jewish Stereotype

The Schlemiel was never meant to be a realistic representation of Jews.

He is a literary and cultural device.

A comic figure.

A mirror.

A way of examining the tensions between ambition and failure, belonging and exclusion, certainty and doubt.

The Schlemiel survives because every generation recognises something of itself in him.

We laugh at him.

We feel sorry for him.

And occasionally, we realise that we are him.

That may be why, centuries after the Yiddish storytellers first created him, the Schlemiel remains one of the most enduring characters in modern culture.

We are One - Connected by Community

Ian Sandler, outgoing President of JCA’ speech , was a powerful reminder of the strength, unity, compassion and resilience of the NSW Jewish community.

Community is not built by proximity.

It is built by showing up.

By caring.

By standing with each other through the good times and the difficult times.

By lifting people up when they need it most.

Over the past year, the Jewish community has faced challenges many of us never imagined possible. Antisemitism moved from the fringes to our streets, our campuses, and even places where we once felt completely safe.

The events following October 7 reminded us that vulnerability can arrive unexpectedly. But they also reminded us of something far more powerful.

Our unity.

We refused to be intimidated.

We refused to disappear.

When our community was challenged, we moved as one.

We debated, as Jews always do. As the saying goes, two Jews, three opinions. Yet when it mattered most, we stood together with courage, compassion, and determination.

That collective response demonstrated who we are and who we have always been.

Through unprecedented collaboration across organisations, leaders, volunteers, donors, and families, we strengthened the bonds that make our community one of the strongest in the world.

The work of JCA and the many organisations it supports is more than an obligation. It is an investment in a future where Jewish life continues to flourish in Sydney and across New South Wales. A future where our children can grow up safely, proudly, and connected to their heritage.

As leaders such as Ian Sandler, David Ossip, Myron Salinger, Alain Hassan, and countless others have demonstrated, the answer to adversity is not fear.

It is strength.

It is generosity.

It is community.

And through it all, one thing has remained constant:

We show up.

It has been an honour to serve alongside so many remarkable people.

Am Yisrael Chai.

In times of unity we a me stronger when we work together - how do we work together 

We need to be one 

Every aspect is as one 

We are one connected by community 

For our Children

There are roughly 14 million souls living between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea.

About 7 million Jews. About 7 million Arabs / Palestinians.

They are not going anywhere.

And until that reality is fully accepted—by both sides—we will remain trapped in an endless cycle of conflict, retaliation, and grief.

The Illusion of Victory

For decades, each side has believed—at different times—that it could “win.”

Win through military strength.

Win through political pressure.

Win through demographic shifts.

Win through force.

But history keeps delivering the same message:

There is no version of this story where one people disappears and the other thrives in peace.

The idea of total victory is not just unrealistic—it is dangerous. Because it justifies everything.

Extremism Is the Real Enemy

There are extremists on both sides. There always have been. There always will be.

But the real danger is not their existence,the real danger is when they gain power.

When extremism moves from the fringes to leadership, something shifts:

• Violence becomes justified
• Dehumanization becomes normalized
• Collective punishment becomes policy
• And morality becomes conditional

What we are witnessing today is not just conflict.

It is the normalisation of behaviour that, in any other context, would be universally condemned. And that should concern all of us.

No Justification for Barbarism

Let’s be clear:

• There is no justification for terrorism.
• There is no justification for targeting civilians.
• There is no justification for revenge-driven violence.
• There is no justification for collective punishment.
• Not from Hamas.
• Not from settlers.
• Not from any government.
• Not from anyone.

If we start making exceptions, we lose the very moral framework that allows societies to function.

The Leadership Vacuum

At the heart of this conflict is not just land.

It is leadership.

Because peace requires something incredibly rare:

Leaders who are willing to care not only for their own people—but for the humanity of the other side.

Leaders who:

• Reject short-term political gain in favor of long-term stability
• Refuse to inflame fear for votes
• Are strong enough to stand up to their own extremists
• And courageous enough to tell hard truths

Right now, that leadership is missing.

On both sides.

A Different Standard

If we are honest, the future will not be decided by ideology alone.

It will be decided by standards.

• What do we tolerate?
• What do we condemn?
• What do we reward?
• What do we normalize?

Because whatever we excuse today… becomes tomorrow’s precedent.

And let’s be clear - we need to build something better for our children and grandchildren

From Survival to Coexistence

The next phase of this region cannot be about survival.

It must be about coexistence.

Not because it’s idealistic—but because it’s the only realistic option.

• Two peoples.
• One land.
• Shared future.

The sooner that is accepted—not politically, but culturally—the sooner the violence begins to lose its grip.

A Call Forward

Peace will not come from slogans.

It will not come from outrage.

And it will not come from one side “defeating” the other.

Peace will come when enough people—on both sides—decide that:

• The other side is not going anywhere
• Their children deserve something better
• And moral lines cannot be crossed, no matter the justification

Until then, the cycle continues.

Let’s Be Clear About What We Want

If we truly want peace, then we must be willing to say:

• We reject extremism—on all sides
• We reject barbarism—without exception
• We demand better leadership
• And we believe coexistence is not weakness—it is strength

Let’s Pray—and Act

Hope alone is not enough. 

But without it, nothing changes.

So yes

let’s pray.

But 

• Let’s also advocate.
• Let’s speak.
• Let’s hold leaders accountable.
• Let’s refuse to normalize what should never be normal.

Because 14 million lives depend on it.

Let’s pray and advocate and act towards this change in our lifetime.

For our Children

There are roughly 14 million souls living between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea.

About 7 million Jews. About 7 million Arabs / Palestinians.

They are not going anywhere.

And until that reality is fully accepted—by both sides—we will remain trapped in an endless cycle of conflict, retaliation, and grief.

The Illusion of Victory

For decades, each side has believed—at different times—that it could “win.”

Win through military strength.

Win through political pressure.

Win through demographic shifts.

Win through force.

But history keeps delivering the same message:

There is no version of this story where one people disappears and the other thrives in peace.

The idea of total victory is not just unrealistic—it is dangerous. Because it justifies everything.

Extremism Is the Real Enemy

There are extremists on both sides. There always have been. There always will be.

But the real danger is not their existence,the real danger is when they gain power.

When extremism moves from the fringes to leadership, something shifts:

• Violence becomes justified
• Dehumanization becomes normalized
• Collective punishment becomes policy
• And morality becomes conditional

What we are witnessing today is not just conflict.

It is the normalisation of behaviour that, in any other context, would be universally condemned. And that should concern all of us.

No Justification for Barbarism

Let’s be clear:

• There is no justification for terrorism.
• There is no justification for targeting civilians.
• There is no justification for revenge-driven violence.
• There is no justification for collective punishment.
• Not from Hamas.
• Not from settlers.
• Not from any government.
• Not from anyone.

If we start making exceptions, we lose the very moral framework that allows societies to function.

The Leadership Vacuum

At the heart of this conflict is not just land.

It is leadership.

Because peace requires something incredibly rare:

Leaders who are willing to care not only for their own people—but for the humanity of the other side.

Leaders who:

• Reject short-term political gain in favor of long-term stability
• Refuse to inflame fear for votes
• Are strong enough to stand up to their own extremists
• And courageous enough to tell hard truths

Right now, that leadership is missing.

On both sides.

A Different Standard

If we are honest, the future will not be decided by ideology alone.

It will be decided by standards.

• What do we tolerate?
• What do we condemn?
• What do we reward?
• What do we normalize?

Because whatever we excuse today… becomes tomorrow’s precedent.

And let’s be clear - we need to build something better for our children and grandchildren

From Survival to Coexistence

The next phase of this region cannot be about survival.

It must be about coexistence.

Not because it’s idealistic—but because it’s the only realistic option.

• Two peoples.
• One land.
• Shared future.

The sooner that is accepted—not politically, but culturally—the sooner the violence begins to lose its grip.

A Call Forward

Peace will not come from slogans.

It will not come from outrage.

And it will not come from one side “defeating” the other.

Peace will come when enough people—on both sides—decide that:

• The other side is not going anywhere
• Their children deserve something better
• And moral lines cannot be crossed, no matter the justification

Until then, the cycle continues.

Let’s Be Clear About What We Want

If we truly want peace, then we must be willing to say:

• We reject extremism—on all sides
• We reject barbarism—without exception
• We demand better leadership
• And we believe coexistence is not weakness—it is strength

Let’s Pray—and Act

Hope alone is not enough. 

But without it, nothing changes.

So yes

let’s pray.

But 

• Let’s also advocate.
• Let’s speak.
• Let’s hold leaders accountable.
• Let’s refuse to normalize what should never be normal.

Because 14 million lives depend on it.

Let’s pray and advocate and act towards this change in our lifetime.

For our Children :The Only Path Forward: From Survival to Coexistence

There are roughly 14 million souls living between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea.

About 7 million Jews. About 7 million Arabs / Palestinians.

They are not going anywhere.

And until that reality is fully accepted—by both sides—we will remain trapped in an endless cycle of conflict, retaliation, and grief.

The Illusion of Victory

For decades, each side has believed—at different times—that it could “win.”

Win through military strength.

Win through political pressure.

Win through demographic shifts.

Win through force.

But history keeps delivering the same message:

There is no version of this story where one people disappears and the other thrives in peace.

The idea of total victory is not just unrealistic—it is dangerous. Because it justifies everything.

Extremism Is the Real Enemy

There are extremists on both sides. There always have been. There always will be.

But the real danger is not their existence,the real danger is when they gain power.

When extremism moves from the fringes to leadership, something shifts:

• Violence becomes justified
• Dehumanization becomes normalized
• Collective punishment becomes policy
• And morality becomes conditional

What we are witnessing today is not just conflict.

It is the normalisation of behaviour that, in any other context, would be universally condemned. And that should concern all of us.

No Justification for Barbarism

Let’s be clear:

• There is no justification for terrorism.
• There is no justification for targeting civilians.
• There is no justification for revenge-driven violence.
• There is no justification for collective punishment.

• Not from Hamas.
• Not from settlers.
• Not from any government.
• Not from anyone.

If we start making exceptions, we lose the very moral framework that allows societies to function.

The Leadership Vacuum

At the heart of this conflict is not just land.

It is leadership.

Because peace requires something incredibly rare:

Leaders who are willing to care not only for their own people—but for the humanity of the other side.

Leaders who:

• Reject short-term political gain in favor of long-term stability
• Refuse to inflame fear for votes
• Are strong enough to stand up to their own extremists
• And courageous enough to tell hard truths

Right now, that leadership is missing.

On both sides.

A Different Standard

If we are honest, the future will not be decided by ideology alone.

It will be decided by standards.

• What do we tolerate?
• What do we condemn?
• What do we reward?
• What do we normalize?

Because whatever we excuse today… becomes tomorrow’s precedent.

And let’s be clear - we need to build something better for our children and grandchildren

From Survival to Coexistence

The next phase of this region cannot be about survival.

It must be about coexistence.

Not because it’s idealistic—but because it’s the only realistic option.

• Two peoples.
• One land.
• Shared future.

The sooner that is accepted—not politically, but culturally—the sooner the violence begins to lose its grip.

A Call Forward

Peace will not come from slogans.

It will not come from outrage.

And it will not come from one side “defeating” the other.

Peace will come when enough people—on both sides—decide that:

• The other side is not going anywhere
• Their children deserve something better
• And moral lines cannot be crossed, no matter the justification

Until then, the cycle continues.

Let’s Be Clear About What We Want

If we truly want peace, then we must be willing to say:

• We reject extremism—on all sides
• We reject barbarism—without exception
• We demand better leadership
• And we believe coexistence is not weakness—it is strength

Let’s Pray—and Act

Hope alone is not enough. 

But without it, nothing changes.

So yes

let’s pray.

But 

• Let’s also advocate.
• Let’s speak.
• Let’s hold leaders accountable.
• Let’s refuse to normalize what should never be normal.

Because 14 million lives depend on it.

Let’s pray and advocate and act towards this change in our lifetime.

From War to Peace

War is a terrible thing.

Watching the coverage across global media—from BBC to CNN and Sky News—it’s clear that different perspectives highlight different parts of the story. Some focus on the devastation in places like Lebanon and Iran, showing the very real human cost and suffering.

At the same time, communities in northern Israel, including towns like Kiryat Shmona, continue to face ongoing attacks, displacement, and fear. Civilians on all sides are living with the consequences—loss, uncertainty, and disruption to everyday life.

The truth is, no matter where you stand, innocent people are the ones who suffer most in conflict.

It raises difficult questions about leadership, security, and what a sustainable resolution might look like. And while opinions differ on causes and responsibility, the human impact is undeniable.

Ultimately, there are millions of people—across different nations, cultures, and faiths—who simply want to live in peace.

Perhaps the only path forward is grounded in something simple, yet incredibly difficult to practice:

Treat others the way you want to be treated.

Love your neighbour.

Until that becomes reality, the cycle risks continuing.

Let’s hope for a resolution—and soon.

“IF YOU THINK YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AT BONDI, YOU REALLY DON'T UNTIL YOU READ

Dear friends, this account below is not written by me. But is shared with permission and on request.

December 22 at 1:54 AM ·

I HELD A RABBI AS HE DIED,

HIS BABY STRAPPED TO HIS CHEST.

THIS IS BONDI BEACH.

His blood was warm.

That's what I remember most.

Not the gunshots.

Not the screaming.

The warmth of Rabbi Eli Schlanger's blood

soaking through my shirt as I pressed my hands

against the hole in his chest.

The baby—his baby—was crying against him.

Two months old.

Strapped in a carrier.

Inches from where the bullet entered.

The baby survived.

Rabbi Schlanger didn't.

He looked at me.

His eyes were wide.

Not with fear.

With something worse.

Awareness.

He knew he was dying.

He knew his baby was right there.

He knew his wife was ten feet away, screaming his name.

He knew his other four children were somewhere in the chaos.

He knew.

And there was nothing I could do.

I'm not a doctor.

I'm not a paramedic.

I'm just a guy who went to a Hanukkah celebration

and watched fifteen people get murdered.

I'm just a guy who tried to stop the bleeding and failed.

I'm just a guy who held a rabbi

while he died with his infant son crying against his chest.

This is what Bondi Beach looks like now.

This is what December 14th, 2025 means.

This is what it means to be Jewish in Australia.

His name was Rabbi Eli Schlanger.

39 years old.

Father of five.

Husband to Rachel.

Leader of a small synagogue in Rose Bay.

He baked challah every Friday.

He taught Torah to children every Sunday.

He volunteered at the homeless shelter every Monday.

Everyone loved him.

Everyone.

His 8-year-old daughter Shira saw him get shot.

His 6-year-old son Avi was holding his hand when it happened.

His 5-year-old daughter Noa keeps asking when Abba is coming home.

His 3-year-old son Moshe doesn't understand yet.

His 2-month-old son Yitzhak will never remember him.

Five children.

No father.

Rachel—his wife—tried to get to him.

She was carrying Yitzhak in the baby carrier.

She saw Eli fall.

She saw the blood.

She screamed his name and tried to run to him.

Someone grabbed her.

Held her back.

Told her it wasn't safe.

She fought.

She screamed.

She watched strangers—me—try to save her husband

while she was held back.

She was ten feet away and couldn't reach him.

When I got to him, he was on his back.

Yitzhak was still strapped to his chest, screaming.

The carrier was soaked with blood.

The baby was covered in his father's blood.

I didn't know what to do.

I took off my shirt.

Pressed it against the wound.

The blood just kept coming.

"Stay with me," I said.

Stupid thing to say.

Like he had a choice.

He tried to speak.

His lips moved.

No sound came out.

Just blood.

His hand reached up.

Shaking.

He touched the baby's head.

One finger.

Stroking his son's hair.

That's when I started crying.

Not when the shooting started.

Not when I saw bodies.

Not when I saw children running.

When I saw a dying man

try to comfort his infant son one last time.

The baby kept crying.

Rabbi Schlanger's hand fell.

His chest stopped moving.

His eyes stayed open.

I didn't know what to do.

Do I keep pressure on the wound?

Do I move the baby?

Do I get Rachel?

A paramedic appeared.

Pushed me aside.

Checked for a pulse.

Shook his head.

"I'm sorry."

That's all he said.

Sorry.

Like that fucking means anything.

Rachel collapsed when they told her.

Just dropped.

Her legs gave out.

Someone caught her.

Someone else took the baby.

Yitzhak—covered in his father's blood—was crying in a stranger's arms

while his mother wailed on the sand.

Shira—8 years old—watched all of it.

She didn't cry.

She didn't scream.

She just stood there.

Silent.

Staring at her father's body.

That silence is worse than any scream.

I found out later why Rabbi Schlanger was near the stage.

Why he was shot.

Why he died.

He was trying to reach Matilda.

Matilda Britvan.

10 years old.

She was singing the Hanukkah blessings when the shooting started.

She was the first one hit.

She fell on stage.

Rabbi Schlanger saw her fall.

He was 20 feet away.

He ran toward her.

With his 2-month-old baby strapped to his chest.

He ran toward an active shooter.

Toward gunfire.

Toward death.

Because a child was hurt.

Because that's what rabbis do.

Because that's what good men do.

He died trying to save her.

Matilda died too.

Rabbi Schlanger never reached her.

He collapsed 10 feet from the stage.

Two bodies.

Twenty feet apart.

Both killed for being Jewish.

Do you understand what that means?

Do you understand what happened at Bondi Beach?

A 10-year-old girl was murdered while singing prayers.

A rabbi was murdered trying to save her.

An 87-year-old Holocaust survivor was murdered while celebrating survival.

A couple married for 52 years was murdered trying to stop the shooter.

Fifteen Jews were executed at a Hanukkah celebration.

Not killed.

Not caught in crossfire.

Not collateral damage.

Hunted.

Targeted.

Executed.

The shooters brought 400 rounds of ammunition.

They brought homemade bombs.

They brought an ISIS flag.

They didn't come to make a statement.

They came to kill as many Jews as possible.

And they almost succeeded.

If Senior Constable Hannah Whitfield and Constable Mitchell Forrest hadn't engaged them within 90 seconds...

If they hadn't run toward the gunfire while everyone else ran away...

If they hadn't put their bodies between us and the terrorists...

There would be dozens more bodies.

Both officers are in critical condition.

Hannah took a bullet to the chest.

Mitchell took two to the abdomen.

They might not survive.

They saved us.

And they might die for it.

I can't stop thinking about Rabbi Schlanger.

The way he looked at me.

The way he touched his baby's head.

The warmth of his blood.

The sound of Yitzhak crying.

I hear that baby crying in my sleep.

I dream about it every night.

The same dream.

I'm holding Rabbi Schlanger.

But this time I save him.

This time the bleeding stops.

This time he lives.

This time he gets to hold his baby.

This time he goes home to Rachel.

This time his children still have a father.

And then I wake up.

And remember that he's dead.

And I'm covered in his blood again.

I can't wash it off.

I mean that literally.

I still have the shirt.

Soaked with his blood.

I can't throw it away.

I can't wash it.

It's evidence.

It's proof.

It's all I have left of those moments.

It's in a plastic bag in my closet.

Rachel came to see me three days ago.

I don't know how she found me.

She just showed up.

With all five kids.

Yitzhak was in her arms.

Clean now.

The blood gone.

But I could still see it.

"Thank you," she said.

For what?

For failing to save her husband?

For watching him die?

"For being with him," she said.

"So he wasn't alone."

And then she handed me a photo.

Rabbi Schlanger.

Rachel.

All five kids.

Taken two weeks before Bondi Beach.

Everyone smiling.

Happy.

Whole.

"This is who you tried to save," she said.

And I broke.

I've been holding it together.

For three weeks.

Through the funerals.

Through the memorials.

Through the nightmares.

But seeing that photo.

Seeing what was taken from them.

Seeing what I couldn't save.

I broke.

Rachel held me while I cried.

This woman—who just lost her husband—held me while I sobbed.

"It's not your fault," she whispered.

But it feels like it is.

It feels like I should have done more.

Pressed harder.

Moved faster.

Known what to do.

Saved him.

But I couldn't.

Because I'm not a paramedic.

Because the bullet hit his heart.

Because he bled out in 90 seconds.

Because there was nothing anyone could do.

Because two terrorists decided Jewish lives don't matter.

That's what this comes down to.

Not my failure.

Not bad luck.

Not wrong place, wrong time.

Hate.

Pure, calculated, deliberate hate.

They looked at a thousand Jews celebrating Hanukkah and thought: "They deserve to die."

They looked at children and thought: "They deserve to die."

They looked at Holocaust survivors and thought: "They deserve to die."

They looked at a rabbi with a baby and thought: "He deserves to die."

And they acted on it.

Fifteen Jews are dead.

Forty-two are in the hospital.

Hundreds are traumatized.

Thousands are terrified.

This is what antisemitism looks like in 2025.

Not swastikas.

Not mean tweets.

Not "criticism of Israel."

Dead children.

Dead rabbis.

Dead Holocaust survivors.

Bodies on Bondi Beach.

And the world is already moving on.

"Tragic incident."

"Lone wolves."

"We must come together."

Bullshit.

This wasn't a tragic incident.

This was a massacre.

These weren't lone wolves.

This was terrorism.

This was a hunt.

And Jews were the prey.

Again.

I don't know how to live with what I saw.

I don't know how to go back to normal.

I don't know how to celebrate Hanukkah again.

I don't know how to light candles without seeing Rabbi Schlanger's blood.

I don't know how to hear babies cry without hearing Yitzhak.

I don't know how to forget.

And I don't want to.

Because if I forget, then who remembers?

If I move on, who holds space for them?

If I heal, who carries their pain?

Rachel can't do it alone.

Shira can't do it alone.

The Jewish community can't do it alone.

We need you to remember too.

Why i created Bondi United.

It's a memorial.

To Rachel and her five children.

To Matilda's mother.

To the 42 people still in hospital.

To the officers who saved us.

To the community rebuilding.

Because I held a rabbi as he died.

Because his baby was crying against his chest.

Because his blood soaked through my shirt.

Because I failed to save him.

Because this is Bondi Beach.

Because this is what they did to us.

And we will not let the world forget.

Rabbi Eli Schlanger, 39.

Husband.

Father of five.

Hero.

He died trying to save a child.

His baby survived.

His 2-month-old son will never remember him.

But we will.

#BondiUnited

#RememberRabbiSchlanger

#NeverAgain

I still have his blood on my shirt.

I'll carry it forever.

So should you.

Writer unknown