Before His Murder, a Rabbi Addressed the Danger of Hatred

By Rabbi Eli Schlanger & Nikki Goldstein

Saturday, May 23, 2026

 

Note: The following is an excerpt of Rabbi Eli Schlanger and Nikki Goldstein’s Conversations with My Rabbi: Timeless Teachings for a Fractured World. The book reads as a conversation between Rabbi Schlanger and Goldstein, a secular writer. Shortly before the book’s completion, Schlanger was killed during the Bondi Beach mass shooting in Australia in December 2025. In this excerpt, Rabbi Schlanger and Goldstein discuss the Third Noahide Law, “Do not murder.”

 

RABBI ELI: Let’s start simple. In Judaism, life is not just sacred — it is divine. Every human being, regardless of background, belief, or behavior, carries a spark of the divine. We say that every person is created b’tzelem Elokim, in the image of God. That’s not just poetic. That’s law. That’s foundation.

 

Murder, therefore, is not only an act of violence against a human being. It is an act of violence against God Himself.

 

So “Do not murder” isn’t just about avoiding bloodshed. It’s about learning to see the infinite potential inside every human being. It’s about reverence. It’s about the love of God, and by extension, the love of humanity.

 

It’s not just a legal line in the sand — it’s a worldview. We’re not allowed to devalue life in any form. That’s why Jewish ethics are so strong around the unborn, around end-of-life decisions, and even around how we speak about people. Because murder starts with dehumanization. The Torah makes it very clear — we’re made in God’s image. Once you forget that, that every individual is an embodiment of God in the world, dreadful things become possible. That’s when societies fall.

 

NIKKI: But how do we value human life — even in war?

 

RABBI ELI: There’s no glorification of violence in Judaism. War is not desirable. It’s necessary in certain circumstances, but always with limits. We’re told not to needlessly destroy trees in war. Think about that — if a tree matters, how much more a human being?

 

And we don’t celebrate death. Not even the death of our enemies. When the angels wanted to sing after the Egyptians drowned in the sea, God said no — “My handiwork is drowning.” That’s the Jewish heart. Even in conflict, we don’t lose our compassion.

 

NIKKI: I had always thought the Third Noahide Law — “Do not murder” — was the easiest to accept. Of course we shouldn’t kill each other. But the more I sat with it, especially in the wake of rising antisemitism, rhetoric of extermination, and the way people casually degrade each other online, the more I understood this law was about sacred compassion and universal love. The Jewish worldview does not see life merely as a biological fact, but as a spiritual charge — a divine spark that comes with responsibility. And suddenly, I have questions. What about emotional cruelty? Is assisted dying murder? What about those who do seem irredeemably terrible?

 

RABBI ELI: To take emotional cruelty first, when we embarrass someone publicly, for example, the Talmud says it’s like spilling blood. When we speak cruelly, degrade, or isolate others, we’re participating in a kind of spiritual violence. It may not show up in court, but it registers in heaven.

 

NIKKI: So hurtful words — especially when we dehumanize or vilify others — can carry that same moral weight?

 

RABBI ELI: Yes. Our words can kill spirit, hope, and connection.

 

NIKKI: Or ideas? Or reputations, or a child’s sense of safety?

 

RABBI ELI: Absolutely. The Torah speaks directly to that. There’s a concept in Judaism called halbanat panim — literally, “whitening someone’s face” — and it refers to public humiliation. Our sages say that if you publicly embarrass someone, it is as if you spilled their blood. That’s not a metaphor. That’s spiritual anatomy.

 

Speech, too, can kill. Words have the power to create or destroy. The entire universe was created with speech — “And God said, let there be light.”

 

When we speak cruelly, especially about others, we commit lashon hara — evil speech. And the Talmud says that this harms three people: the one who says it, the one who hears it, and the one it’s about. Even if they never know. Even if they never hear.

 

NIKKI: That makes social media a spiritual minefield.

 

RABBI ELI: Exactly. People think gossip is harmless. But in Jewish thought, gossip is a terrible sin. It can destroy lives without a single weapon. It spreads like wildfire. And it desensitizes us to the sacredness of each other.

 

NIKKI: So how do Jews stay moral when surrounded by antisemitism or threats?

 

RABBI ELI: This is personal. Right now, we’re seeing an explosion of hate. And the Jewish people are hurting.

 

But Torah doesn’t say, “Be holy when life is easy.” It says Kedoshim tihiyu — you shall be holy — always. Even under pressure. Even when the world turns its back on you.

 

NIKKI: That feels impossible sometimes.

 

RABBI ELI: And yet, we must. Because if we lose our morality, we lose our mission.

 

The challenge is not to become what we fight. The challenge is to stay human, stay holy, even when others aren’t. Our ancestors knew pogroms. The Shoah. Crusades. And yet we kept lighting candles. We kept teaching our children. We didn’t curse the world. We blessed it.

 

We’ve had thousands of years of practice. We’re not new to this. From Egypt to the Spanish Inquisition to the Nazis — we’ve faced hatred. But we’ve always clung to life. We cling to light. That’s why Shabbat is such a powerful act. It’s a declaration that life is worth celebrating.

 

And we also educate. We teach our kids that just because someone hates us, we don’t hate back. That’s hard. But it’s holy. That’s what makes us different.