“Killed While Celebrating the Festival of Lights: Remembering Rabbi Eli Schlanger”.5685
On the evening of December 14, 2025, as the sun began to set over Bondi Beach in Sydney, Australia, a joyous Hanukkah celebration turned into a scene of unimaginable horror. Hundreds of people had gathered to take part in the “Hanukkah by the Sea” event, an annual celebration that brought together Jewish families to commemorate the festival of lights with music, food, and community. Among those in attendance was Rabbi Eli Schlanger, a 41-year-old rabbi, a beloved community leader, and a father of five young children. What was supposed to be a peaceful night of celebration soon became a tragic nightmare as two gunmen opened fire on the crowd, killing 15 people, including Rabbi Schlanger.
Rabbi Schlanger’s life was one of deep faith, devotion to family, and unwavering commitment to his community. He had just welcomed his fifth child, a son, only six weeks before the attack. His loss has left an indelible void in the lives of his wife, children, and the many people whose lives he touched. The event, which took place at one of Sydney’s most iconic beaches, sent shockwaves through the local Jewish community and beyond, leaving families devastated and searching for answers.
A Joyous Celebration Turned Tragic
The “Hanukkah by the Sea” event had been planned as a time for families to come together and celebrate the lighting of the menorah, a symbol of hope and resilience for the Jewish community. The celebration was meant to be a time of light during the long, dark days of winter, filled with the warmth of community and the joy of shared tradition. But on that evening, the darkness of tragedy overshadowed the light of Hanukkah.
At around 6:40 p.m., the joyous sounds of music and laughter were abruptly interrupted as gunshots rang out, shattering the peaceful atmosphere. Two gunmen, armed with semi-automatic weapons, opened fire on the crowd, targeting the unsuspecting attendees. Panic spread as people scrambled for safety, but the violence was swift and brutal. In the midst of the chaos, Rabbi Eli Schlanger was struck and tragically lost his life.
Those who were at the event remember the shock and horror of the attack. Many spoke of the initial confusion, the chaos that unfolded in an instant, and the deep sense of helplessness that gripped the crowd. People rushed to protect their loved ones, but the attackers were relentless, and 15 innocent lives were taken. Rabbi Schlanger, who had been a pillar of strength for his community, was one of the victims.
A Life of Service and Faith
Rabbi Schlanger was a man of great faith, a devout servant of the Jewish community who had dedicated his life to helping others. He was known for his kindness, his wisdom, and his ability to make others feel seen and valued. As a rabbi, he spent his days guiding his congregation, offering counsel, and nurturing the spiritual growth of those around him. His deep connection to God and his commitment to the Jewish people made him a beloved figure in the Sydney community.
But Rabbi Schlanger’s faith extended beyond his role as a spiritual leader. He was also a devoted father and husband, deeply committed to his family. He had recently welcomed his fifth child, a son, just six weeks prior to the attack. The joy of the new addition to their family was still fresh, and the Schlanger household was filled with the sounds of a growing family, full of love and laughter. Rabbi Schlanger’s death has left a profound hole in the lives of his wife and children, who are now left to navigate life without their father and husband.
His cousin, Rabbi Zalman Lewis, paid tribute to him in a heartfelt Facebook post, announcing his death and remembering his incredible character. “My dear cousin, Rabbi Eli Schlanger, was murdered in today’s terrorist attack in Sydney,” Rabbi Lewis wrote. “He leaves behind his wife and young children, as well as my uncle and aunt and siblings. He was truly an incredible guy.” The post went viral, as people from all over the world expressed their condolences and shared memories of Rabbi Schlanger’s kindness, dedication, and warmth.
The Impact of Rabbi Schlanger’s Death
Rabbi Schlanger’s death has left the entire Jewish community in mourning, with tributes pouring in from people who knew him and those who were touched by his work. The loss of such a devoted and compassionate figure is not just a personal tragedy for his family, but a loss for the entire community. Rabbi Schlanger’s presence will be deeply missed by all who knew him.
In the wake of the attack, many have expressed shock and sorrow, grappling with the reality of the violence that occurred in a place that should have been safe. The Hanukkah celebration was meant to be a time of peace, and the fact that it was marred by such senseless violence has left people questioning the safety of their own communities. The attack serves as a reminder of the fragility of life and the importance of cherishing each moment.
The grief felt by Rabbi Schlanger’s family is immeasurable, and the community is rallying around them to provide support in any way they can. Friends, colleagues, and strangers alike have come forward to offer condolences, share stories of Rabbi Schlanger’s impact, and raise funds for his family’s future. The love and support being shown to his wife and children is a testament to the lasting legacy of Rabbi Schlanger’s life.
The Search for Justice
As the investigation into the attack continues, authorities are working to determine the motive behind the senseless act of violence. The gunmen responsible for the attack remain at large, and the Sydney Police Department has urged anyone with information to come forward. The community is anxiously awaiting answers, hoping for justice to be served for those who lost their lives in the attack.
The attack on Bondi Beach is a stark reminder of the ongoing threat of terrorism and the vulnerability of communities around the world. While the investigation continues, the focus remains on supporting the victims’ families and ensuring that justice is served for those who lost their lives in this tragic event.
A Community in Mourning
As the days pass since the attack, the community continues to mourn the loss of Rabbi Eli Schlanger. His death has left a deep wound, one that will take time to heal. But even in the midst of sorrow, the strength of the Jewish community in Sydney is evident. People are coming together to honor Rabbi Schlanger’s memory, to support his family, and to reaffirm their commitment to love, faith, and community in the face of tragedy.
Rabbi Schlanger’s life was one of service, love, and dedication. He leaves behind a legacy that will live on in the hearts of all who knew him. His faith, his family, and his community were the cornerstones of his life, and those who were touched by him will forever carry his memory.
As the Sydney community continues to mourn, they find comfort in the knowledge that Rabbi Schlanger’s life was one well-lived, full of love, kindness, and service to others. His death may have been senseless, but the impact he had on the lives of those around him is undeniable. Rabbi Eli Schlanger’s legacy will continue to inspire, even in the darkest of times.
Saying Goodbye to Christina, Three Days Before Christmas.5819
We’re saying goodbye to Christina this morning.
Three days before Christmas.
Three days before her three-year-old son will wake up with that uncontrollable, breathless excitement only toddlers know, tearing into wrapping paper, shouting about toys, believing without question that magic is real.
Christina won’t be there to see Constantine jump for joy.
And that truth still feels impossible to hold.
I keep trying to understand it, and I can’t.
I feel too many emotions all at once—sadness so deep it feels physical, anger that flares without warning, confusion that circles back on itself no matter how many times I replay the facts. Six days ago, Christina returned to her Hoover home after an early morning jog, her body warm from movement, her lungs full of cold air, her mind likely already moving through the quiet checklist of the day ahead.
Minutes later, her life was gone.
She was the victim of a murder-suicide.
Those words sit heavy and wrong. They don’t fit the woman I knew. They don’t fit the life she lived. They don’t explain how something so senseless could erase someone so full of light.
I keep thinking about how unfair it all is.
How cruel.
How unnecessary.
Christina Chambers packed more life into thirty-eight years than most people manage in a lifetime.
She was the kind of person who didn’t just exist—she lived, intentionally and wholeheartedly. She loved running, not just as exercise, but as a celebration of what her body could do. She loved competition, the discipline, the challenge, the quiet pride that comes from pushing past limits. Running wasn’t just a hobby; it was part of who she was—early mornings, steady breaths, miles that cleared her mind and strengthened her spirit.
She loved her parents deeply, with a gratitude that never felt obligatory. She loved her four siblings in that layered way only siblings can—equal parts loyalty, laughter, shared history, and unconditional support. Family wasn’t something she talked about; it was something she showed up for, again and again.
And above all, she loved her son.
Constantine was her heart walking around outside her body. Every choice she made, every plan she formed, every prayer she whispered carried his name inside it. She spoke of him with joy and humility, as if motherhood wasn’t something she owned but something she had been entrusted with.
She loved baking pecan pies and Christmas sugar cookies with her mother, flour on the counters, laughter in the kitchen, traditions passed down through hands that had done this many times before. She loved the quiet joy of simple moments—the kind that don’t make headlines but build a life.
She loved life.
And she loved her Lord.
Christina Chambers lived a godly life in a way that never demanded attention. She never asked people to pray for her. Instead, she asked who she could pray for. In a world where so many seek affirmation, she sought service. Where others looked inward, she looked outward. Her faith wasn’t loud, but it was steady, sincere, and deeply lived.
I keep thinking about that.
About how rare it is.
About how easy it is to say we want to live like that—and how hard it is to actually do it.
Through the years, I’ve wondered if we should do more to Be Like Christina.
Not in grand gestures or public declarations, but in the quiet, daily choices that define who we are when no one is watching.
Don’t judge, but rather love.
Not the easy kind of love—the kind that feels natural—but the kind that takes patience, humility, and restraint. The kind that listens before speaking. The kind that leaves room for grace.
Be not spiteful, but kind.
Even when kindness costs something. Even when bitterness would feel justified. Christina had a way of choosing kindness without making it look performative. She didn’t weaponize goodness. She simply lived it.
Find a way to make others find the light.
She did that effortlessly. Not by preaching, but by example. By being someone whose presence felt safe, whose words felt thoughtful, whose actions reflected genuine care. People felt seen around her. Valued. Encouraged.
Yesterday, I visited Christina’s family during the visitation.
There is no adequate word for what I saw.
They are broken.
Not just grieving, but shattered by the kind of loss that doesn’t follow logic or fairness. The kind that leaves you asking questions no one can answer. A daughter. A sister. A mother. Taken in a way that defies understanding.
And yet—even in their brokenness—there was something else present.
Love.
Stories shared softly. Tears mixed with memories. A collective effort to hold one another upright when standing felt impossible. Grief was everywhere, but so was the unmistakable imprint of the woman they loved.
Christina’s life had shaped them.
And now, her absence does too.
I believe—truly believe—that if we all strive to Be Like Christina, we will comfort this family in ways words alone never can. We will honor her not just by remembering her, but by living differently because of her.
If we choose compassion over criticism.
If we choose kindness over cruelty.
If we choose to pray for others before asking for ourselves.
Then something good can still grow from this tragedy.
I think of Constantine.
Three years old.
Too young to understand why his mother won’t be there on Christmas morning. Too young to grasp the permanence of loss. Too young to know how deeply he was loved, how fiercely she dreamed for his future.
But one day, he will know.
He will hear stories.
He will see photos.
He will learn about a mother who ran hard, loved deeply, baked joy into holidays, and lived her faith with quiet strength. He will learn that her life mattered—that it still matters.
And maybe, in time, he will carry her light forward in ways none of us can yet imagine.
As we say goodbye to Christina today, I pray that the young woman with the word “Christ” in her name is resting at the side of Jesus. I pray that she knows how profoundly she was loved here, and how enduring her impact will be.
And as we move into the New Year—tender, shaken, uncertain—I pray that we remember her not only with sorrow, but with intention.
May we speak more gently.
May we judge less and love more.
May we look for ways to serve instead of be served.
May we ask, as Christina always did, Who can I pray for?
And may we all strive, every day, in small and meaningful ways, to Be Like Christina.