There's an old joke among emergency room doctors. What do you call the guy who brings a water pistol to a flamethrower fight? Optimistic. Well, meet humanity, the eternal water pistol squad. Terrorists keep betting we'll crumble at the first whiff of chaos. And bless our stubborn souls, we keep proving them catastrophically wrong.

Take Sydney this week. Two armed men stormed Bondi Beach during a Hanukkah celebration, planning to shatter both lives and communal peace. The horrific math speaks for itself. Fifteen dead. Ages spanning 10 years to 87 years old. A London born rabbi named Eli Schlanger, father of five and reportedly incapable of dampening his own enthusiasm. Holocaust survivors. A child named Matilda who, according to her family, treated joy like a contact sport.

Now consider the counter arithmetic. Nearly 1,000 people attended the vigil the following night. Crowds illuminated the beach with phone flashlights rather than retreating indoors. Chabad of Bondi, where Schlanger worked, announced it would immediately expand its community programs rather than shutter windows. An impromptu fundraising campaign to support Matilda's family raised six figures within hours. See, this is why terrorists fail economics. They can't comprehend compound interest in human kindness.

Schlanger's cousin, a rabbi in Manchester, captured the sentiment without knowing he was drafting humanity's global mission statement. Just two months ago, Manchester endured its own synagogue attack. Eli publicly vowed to combat darkness with light. Now Zalman Lewis, another cousin, eulogized him by doubling down on that idea. Light demands maintenance. Someone must hold the torch forward. You sense a pattern. Terror attacks plant a forest, defiant memorials grow trees.

But let's acknowledge reality. Sydney just joined a club nobody wants membership in. London. Paris. Brussels. All cosmopolitan cities briefly forced into trauma math class. Death toll divided by media hysteria equals how much fear gets released into the drinking water. Yet Australia offers an intriguing case study. They've avoided America's poisonous polarization cycle. Their gun laws resemble Switzerland more than Texas. And crucially, their multiculturalism hides in plain sight.

No society handles diversity perfectly, but Sydney does a uniquely Australian thing. It treats cultural differences like seasonal allergies. Annoying sometimes, mostly manageable, and never worth abandoning picnics over. They even have heartfelt but atonal public service jingles about it. This social muscle memory served them well post Bondi. No opportunistic political bids to weaponize grief. Just quiet, thorough competence. Police alerting citizens while avoiding panic porn. Political leaders showing up without cameras first.

That said, a fascinating modern phenomenon is reshaping terror aftermaths. Online crowdfunding platforms now serve as the de facto emergency response network for collective grief. Matilda's GoFundMe page outpaced official donations within hours. Londons Jewish community organized virtual memorials via WhatsApp before Sydney even finished processing victims. The digital age gets blamed for so much social fragmentation. Rarely does it get credit for knitting safety nets faster than bureaucracies can blink.

Likewise, the global Jewish diaspora demonstrated another underreported superpower. They treat tragedy like a baton pass. Manchester attacks last October? Sydney sent support. Now Budapest synagogues are organizing meals for Schlanger's children in perpetuity. This isn't just solidarity. It's communal time travel. Ensuring broken hearts get inherited by future generations as wisdom rather than scars.

But let's return to Zalman Lewis' brilliant pivot. Instead of eulogizing his cousin with well meaning platitudes, he reframed the horror. My cousin lit lights, he essentially said. Now pass the damn matches. It sounds kitschy until you realize practicality reigns. After Pittsburgh's synagogue shooting, local rabbis deliberately held Shabbat services in parking lots. Visibility as armor. Sydney locals similarly transformed vigils into multilingual sing alongs. If laughter is despair's enemy, inclusive music is terror's banality.

Consider too Hanukkah's accidental prescience. The festival literally commemorates rededicating a temple after invaders defiled it. More importantly, it celebrates that mysterious jar of oil lasting eight nights instead of one. Modern parallels write themselves. Schlanger modeled this spirit. He reportedly radiated positivity even during Sydney's pandemic lockdowns.

Yet finally, this story circles back to cowardice versus generosity. Bondi's attackers targeted elders and children. Behold terrorism's business model. Shock boiled down to cheap theater. Contrast that with the fruit shop owner who reportedly tackled one gunman. Or the paramedic who improvised a triage unit using picnic blankets. Their courage lacked fireworks. It simply defaulted to service.

Rabbi Schlanger supposedly told Manchester' suffer we will respond with light. Turns out light doesn't need to be profound. Sometimes its a neighbor dropping off casseroles in silence. Or a suburban mom remembering Holocaust survivors need rides to doctors appointments. Or country music bars hosting fundraisers because screw anyone who thinks borders matter when kids die.

So next time despair whispers that evil' winning, remember Sydney's accidental epiphany. Terrorism' real expiry date isn't policy related. Its humanity's infuriating habit of krumping when the soundtrack demands mourning. Call it resistance. Call it morale. Frankly, call it whatever gets you through the bleak hours. Just please keep a candle handy. The matches may come from surprising pockets.