As dusk settles over Sydney's iconic Bondi Beach, a solemn ritual unfolds. Rabbi Yossi Friedman stands outside the Bondi Pavilion, his voice carrying in the evening air as he sings in Hebrew. Three times each day, at 7:30 am, 1:00 pm, and 7:30 pm, he recites the names and shares the stories of the fifteen people whose lives were brutally taken metres away in the 14 December terrorist attack.
A Space for Reflection and Connection
The makeshift memorial of flowers that once carpeted the path in the attack's immediate aftermath has been cleared. Yet, people continue to arrive, bearing fresh tributes as they seek a place to mourn. Some come specifically for Rabbi Friedman's services, while others happen upon them while paying their respects.
The ritual began the day after the attack, when only six victims' names were known. Rabbi Friedman, who works as a "rabbi on demand", stood before a crowd of thousands to share them. He had come to the beach to pray but was moved by the spontaneous memorial that formed at the pavilion, as the attack site at Archer Park remained a police cordon.
He describes the area as a "beautiful, holy space, a quiet area of reflection and connection." Witnessing the public's "outpouring of love"—with flowers, stones (a traditional Jewish gesture of remembrance), candles, and cards—inspired him to create a more structured moment of commemoration.
Keeping Stories Alive Through Daily Ritual
Initially, Friedman shared the victims' stories every hour. The vigil now includes the Kaddish (the Jewish mourner's prayer), the song Oseh Shalom, a recitation of Psalm 23:4, and concludes with the Australian national anthem. He plans to continue at least until the end of the initial 30-day mourning period significant in Judaism.
Friedman felt a communal space was still needed after the floral tributes were removed for preservation a week after the massacre. "I felt the flowers were removed too soon. People still needed a space to grieve," he says, noting that hundreds still visit daily.
For visitors like Shoshana Ghent, the vigil provides a crucial outlet. "My underlying feeling is of immense grief and sadness... So all I can do is leave a stone and say Kaddish," she shared on a Monday afternoon visit.
Community Grief and Shared Trauma
The pain felt at Bondi intersects with wider trauma for the Jewish community. Laura, a former Bondi resident who attended a vigil with her partner after a swim, spoke of navigating grief from the past two weeks and the last two years since the 7 October 2023 attacks in Israel. "This grief is not just about the event here. There's more grief involved, and obviously long ancestral grief too," she said.
Friedman has begun inviting survivors of the targeted Hanukah party to share their testimony at the evening vigil. On one Monday, Rabbi Mendy Litzman, a paramedic with the Jewish ambulance service Hatzolah, recounted the horror of the day.
He described arriving at the scene to find more than 50 patients with gunshot wounds, calling it the biggest mass casualty of his 27-year career. He recalled the agonising triage decisions and the "eerie" contrast of festive Hanukah music playing amidst the carnage.
Litzman emphasised resilience, urging survivors to return to the site. "We should stand united," he told the crowd, asserting that terrorists would not win because "the Australian way is not this way. We have no hatred in our hearts."
A Movement of Light Against Antisemitism
For Rabbi Friedman, the goal is twofold: to keep the victims' stories alive and to build a "movement of people committed to spreading light and standing side by side, regardless of affiliation."
He cites a powerful moment when a Muslim man approached him after preaching in his mosque about standing with the Jewish community. "He was here hugging me and shedding a tear... sharing the sentiment that we're all human beings," Friedman recounted.
The rabbi believes the widespread public support from non-Jews following the Bondi attack is a potent force. "That is what will heal and that is what will cure antisemitism," he states firmly. "Because we as Jews can't do it alone." His daily vigils stand as a testament to communal mourning and a hopeful step towards healing.
