Rabbi Sara Sapadin is featured in “We Will Prevail: Jewish Responses to Bondi Beach”

To Bless in Darkness and Light (Miketz 5786) by Rabbi Sara Sapadin

During this Chanukah week, I have been thinking about the blessing: “May you be like Ephraim and Menashe.” In a world that feels profoundly uncertain, what does it mean to lift our hands and bless a child? 

Traditionally, we speak these words at the Shabbat table, with our children gathered close. In essence, they are the ultimate expression of love and hope: may you blossom and grow, may you bloom and flourish, and may you become who you are meant to be! But even more so, they are a blessing for life itself: may you live to see the future and embrace it.

And yet, as we reckon with the violence unleashed at Bondi Beach, and with the ever-escalating antisemitism in our midst, the words of this blessing feel weighted—with risk, with peril, and with what-ifs we never imagined..

I can’t help but think of ten-year-old Matilda, of blessed memory—the youngest victim at Bondi Beach—described as a “bright, joyful, and spirited child who brought light to everyone around her.” [1] Writer Shira Lankin Sheps shares: “There is something uniquely horrifying about violence that steals children…Ten-year-olds should never become symbols. They should become teenagers, then adults—people with complicated stories and long lives.”[2]

The world has changed. The stakes have changed. As fervently as we wish for longevity—to live out the blessing of Ephraim and Menashe—we now find ourselves praying first for safety: the kind of safety Ephraim and Menashe once knew as the children of Joseph.

Of the many stories coming out of Sydney, one has stayed with me. It is the story of Avner’s, a popular Jewish bakery owned by chef Ed Halmagy. For two years, since October 7th, the bakery endured threats, vandalism, and intimidation. Each time, Ed responded by standing firm.

But after Bondi Beach, all of that changed. In a letter to his patrons, he wrote: “In the wake of the pogrom at Bondi, one thing has become clear—it is no longer possible to make outwardly, publicly Jewish places safe in Australia…And so we have made the only decision available to us…Avner’s is closed.” [3]

Some might say this is a story about the distant continent of Australia. And yet, when it comes to the Jewish people, distance does not divide us. What happens in Sydney matters to all of us. If Jews in Sydney are struggling to utter the words “May you be like Ephraim and Menashe,” for fear of an uncertain future, we must respond with solidarity and presence. Their pain is our pain. Their loss, our loss.

One of the most common answers to the question, “Why do we bless with Ephraim and Menashe?” comes from contemporary Israeli Rabbi, Mordechai Elon. He explains that Ephraim and Menashe are the first pairing of brothers in our Torah who do not fight or struggle for power or position. They are loving and kind with one another, and their relationship is peaceful. For these reasons, we hope our children will grow to be like Ephraim and Menashe. [4]

If only. If only our children could grow up in such a harmonious world—a world without hatred or violence, a world of mutual understanding. And yet, we will never stop reaching for that vision. Despite what we have witnessed, despite what we have endured, we will always leave room for possibility, for promise, for hope, and for change.

And when Shabbat comes around again, we will continue to bless our children.

We will continue to hope for their future, and we will continue to dream of a better tomorrow.

This is who we are.
Even now. Especially now.

                         Delivered at Temple Emanu-El on December 20, 2025/30 Kislev 5786