So, at 6pm (just 12 hours after I got up that morning in Melbourne to fly to Sydney) I took a cab to Bondi – 20 minutes from the centre of the city.
When I arrived, the beach was still packed. People were promenading up and down with their surfboards. Slightly set back from the promenade was the Bondi Pavilion.
I walked through the Pavilion and emerged on the other side and to my right I immediately saw a small makeshift memorial to the victims of the December 14 massacre.
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The small memorial at Bondi Beach (Photo: Lawrence Cohen)[Missing Credit]
The memorial was by a whitewashed wall and there were hundreds of very small white pebbles fanning out from the wall. Each pebble had a miniature message on it memorialising the victims of the massacre. There were names and menorahs and magen dovids.
There was a basket of blank pebbles and sharpie pens so that anybody could write on a tiny pebble and place it with the rest. I did that myself. It was like placing a pebble on a gravestone.
On the wall, there were pictures of the victims and a list of their names. There were wilting flowers and some fresh flowers placed there that very day. There was also a notice saying that there was a “Reading of the Names” each day – at 7.30am, 1pm and 7.30pm. It was beshert that I was in time for the final reading of the day.
About 50 people gathered round the small memorial, bending down to look at the writing on the pebbles and taking time to look at the names of the victims.
The memorial at Bondi Beach (Photo: Lawrence Cohen)[Missing Credit]
At 7.30pm prompt, a rabbi appeared named Rabbi Yossi spoke and he announced that the reading would start in two minutes. There was a buzz of anticipation amongst the 50 people there. Two minutes later, Rabbi Yossi introduced himself and said that this was the latest in the daily readings of the names which he had done and was going to do every day up to and including the end of shloshim. It turned out that from December 15 Rabbi Yossi had been publicly naming the victims three times daily.
He said a few words and introduced a survivor of the massacre who spoke very movingly and vividly for about 10 minutes. The rabbi spoke some more inspirational words and sang a Hebrew song backed by a volunteer on the flute and also accompanied by another rabbi on the guitar.
He then came to the naming of the victims. This was brilliantly done. Speaking slowly and clearly and from prepared notes, the rabbi named each victim accompanied by a short biography. Many of the names were known to the crowd and when those names were mentioned there was a hum of appreciation.
Rabbi Yossi then recited Psalm 23 (“The Lord is my shepherd”) and then slowly and carefully and accompanied by those who were able, he said Kaddish. By this time, I was in pieces. I cried softly.
Rabbi Yossi naming the victims at the memorial (Photo: Lawrence Cohen)[Missing Credit]
The other rabbi then sung Oseh Shalom Bimromav quietly and clearly but with increasing volume – and we all sung along with gusto.
Finally, after about 40 minutes, Rabbi Yossi led us all in a rousing rendition of the Australian national anthem – Advance Australia Fair.
And that was it. He thanked everyone involved in making the readings happen and then he disappeared into the crowd followed by many people who wished to shake his hand. The crowd disbursed quickly.
I went through the Pavilion back onto the promenade and spent an hour contemplating the curve of the beautiful white sand of the beach at Bondi and trying to imagine what had happened there on December 14 before making my way back to my hotel in the city.
It goes without saying that the occasion was extraordinarily moving, emotional, respectful and ultimately uplifting.
My change of plan was a good one. I am certain that if I had delayed my trip to Bondi for even 24 hours it would not have had the same impact on me. It would have been crowded out by other sightseeing. Just another activity. But even though I was tired by the early evening of my first day in Sydney, my change of plan, the change of emphasis and the effort made to get out to Bondi to pay my respects was ultimately absolutely the right thing to do.
As soon as December 14 happened, I resolved to go to Bondi to pay my respects. More than that, I felt obliged to do it. It was my duty not only for myself but also as a representative of my family and my community none of whom would be able to do what I did at Bondi.
I cannot over-emphasise how much it meant to me to be there. This was not just a passing whim. The anticipation had built up over the previous three weeks. By the time I actually got there, I was at a fever picture of emotion. One small nudge was all it took to make me cry at the sheer intensity not only of the of the occasion but also of the memory of what had happened on December 14.
What will I take away from this experience? I will take away the beauty and the horror of the memorial. I will take away the slow and steady naming of names. I will always remember Rabbi Yossi. And I will always remember the victims and survivors of a massacre which shocked the world.
