The smell of sufganiyot jelly donuts should mean sticky fingers and laughter, not blood soaked sand. But here we are, staring at photos from Bondi Beach where 15 people were slaughtered during a Hanukkah celebration. Let me say that again, slower. Families lighting candles for a festival of miracles got bullets instead.

I've been to Chabad houses around the world. These are places where college kids show up hungover for free matzo ball soup on Friday nights. Where lonely seniors find someone to listen. Where five year olds learn dreidel songs that echo through halls built entirely on donated Ikea furniture. Judaism likes to bring the party, and Rabbi Eli Schlanger was apparently the ultimate host. Now they're wheeling his coffin into the same synagogue where he probably taught toddlers about olive oil lasting eight days.

Let's talk about his five kids. Especially the newborn who'll never know how dad could make hardened surfers pause their beach routine to hear Hanukkah blessings. See, that)s the real terrorism. Not just ending lives, but unraveling the thousand invisible threads that bind communities together. One sicko with a gun stole babysitters and board game rivals and that guy who always knew how to fix the menorah when it tipped over.

Australia knows mass shootings better than most, which is saying something coming from an American. After the Port Arthur massacre in 1996, they banned rapid fire long guns cold turkey. No buybacks full of loopholes. Just politicians looking at 35 dead countrymen and deciding enough meant enough. Since then? Their annual firearm homicide rate is roughly one tenth of ours per capita. Math isn't partisan, friends.

But this wasn't some bogan meth feud spilling lead across the outback. Police upgraded charges to terrorism faster than you can say stuffed cabbage. The alleged killer reportedly chose his moment carefully, when Jewish families gathered for public prayers by the sea. You don't stockpile weapons for that unless hate has curdled your soul beyond recognition.

Here's what guts me. My Bubbe survived pogroms in Ukraine by hiding in a potato cellar for three days. Great Grandpa Moishe escaped Berlin with nothing but a sandwich and Chopin sheet music. They built new lives believing 'Never Again' meant watchfulness, not victimhood. Today their great grandchildren endure rising antisemitism from both woke academia batshittery and neo Nazi knuckleheads too dumb to spell Lebensraum. As if 1933 is trendy now.

The funerals yesterday showed how real communities respond. Crowds gathering not just to mourn, but for something deeper. Never mind that your neighbor votes Labor or Liberal or Greens, dress shoes stood together outside that synagogue. Total strangers brought flowers to weeping widows. Surf lifesaving clubs volunteering as makeshift security. This is how civilization pushes back against chaos, folks. Not through vengeance, but by refusing to let darkness extinguish every light.

Meanwhile in Canberra politicians tripped over themselves saying the right soundbites. Prime Minister Albanese made appropriately somber faces. Conservative Opposition Leader Peter Dutton looked vaguely constipated, which tracks. Everyone agreed terrorism is bad and dead people are sad. Fine. But what happens next is what counts.

Last year Australia released a counterterrorism strategy emphasizing deradicalization programs while boosting surveillance of extremist groups. Nearly 80% of their terrorism arrests since 2001 involved homegrown jihadist cells or right wing morons trading memes about white genocide. Sound familiar? Wait till you hear their budget for online hate speech monitoring is have the funding per capita that the NYPD spends on parking tickets. Okay I made that up, but you feel me.

Here's the rub. Countries serious about preventing the next Bondi don't wait for cemeteries to fill before acting. Risk assessment starts by staring hard at uncomfortable truths, like which ideologies groom angry young men toward violence. Hint, it ain't stamp collectors or women's book clubs doing the radicalizing. Additionally, protecting vulnerable communities demands more than hashtags and candlelit vigils. Actual security dollars, intelligence sharing, prosecuting online incitement like the felony it is.

We Americans watching this unfold should remember something. Our own nation remains the gold standard for mass casualty events where politicians offer thoughts and prayers while cashing NRA checks. That's not partisan shade, just receipts. Since Sandy Hook alone over 5000 kids have been shot dead in schools, malls, birthday parties. Ask yourself, when did freedom come to mean despairing parents preparing DNA samples to identify their child's remains.

This week, as Sydney buries its dead, stay vigilant against two lies. First that antisemitism is some relic of distant history rather than a thriving poison across the political spectrum. Second, that safety requires sacrificing liberty. Australia proves you can walk down any street without picturing exit routes from potential shooters. Their cops patrol without military surplus gear and somehow haven't been overrun by kangaroo gangs.

Tonight when Hanukkah candles burn in Bondi homes with empty chairs around the table, remember Rabbi Schlanger had everything taken except his legacy. Not terrorism, not fear, but connection. The little rituals that anchor us against the storm. Sufganiyot shared between friends. Kids giggling as they search for hidden dreidels. A beachside menorah glowing defiantly against the night.

Maybe the miracle this year is admitting no ideology justifies slaughtering innocents celebrating their faith. That simple truth shouldn't feel radical in 2025, yet here we are. The world is literally and metaphorically on fire. But human compassion remains what waters down hate's gasoline. Pass the jelly donuts.