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The atmosphere at Mayor Eric Adams’ annual Chanukah party Monday night was joyous, yet tempered by a heavy, collective grief felt by all those who attended.

That duality was palpably felt by this reporter, who attended the event, which was heavily guarded by a large team of NYPD personnel, including Orthodox cops Chief Richie Taylor and Officer Meir Green. Reflecting the realities of securing a Jewish event in the present climate, all attendees were required to provide invitation QR codes and go through metal detectors before entering.

The crowd, mostly Jewish people from across the wide spectrum of New York City jewry, gathered at 31 Chambers Street in Lower Manhattan to uplift one another and largely to say farewell to Mayor Eric Adams, a steadfast defender of Jewish safety in the fight against antisemitism, whose term ends in January.

Just a day before, news had broken of the kedoshim of Bondi Beach, the victims of a terror attack targeting a Chanukah gathering in Australia.

Mayor Eric Adams delivered an address that was less a political speech and more a battle cry. Rejecting the trappings of his office, he asked for the velvet ropes separating him from the crowd to be ignored and to walk among his constituents, adding to the atmosphere of camaraderie felt by the attendees.

“I wanted to come down among you,” the Mayor told the hushed crowd of community leaders, activists, and citizens. “I am not here to be deified. I’m not here to be treated as though there’s a level of royalty… I want you to know that your pain, I feel your pain.”

The evening’s tone was set by the stark contrast between the celebration of neros Chanukah and the encroaching darkness of global antisemitism. Assemblyman Kalman Yeger, never one to mince words, voiced the anxiety that rippled through the room regarding the city’s political future.

“I don’t know what the next four years will bring,” Yeger admitted, standing beside the Mayor. “I can tell you that I am fearful to not have Eric Adams at the helm… The last 48 hours of the globalization of the intifada that we have seen should make us all concerned when we have a mayor who’s about to come in who thinks that globalizing the intifada is okay.”

Yeger praised Adams as “the hero of the Jewish people,” recounting how, “when others sat down, the Mayor stood up.” He implored the crowd to internalize the lesson of Chanukkah not just as a miracle of oil, but as a “resounding military victory.”

“Just a small ragtag group of Jews… who said ‘enough is enough,’ we’re not gonna take it anymore,” Yeger thundered. “Every day should be a day that Jews rise up.”

The reality of that struggle was brought home by Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch and Deputy Mayor Fabien Levy, who addressed the horror in Australia.

“We stand with the victims of this weekend’s terror attack… where gunmen targeted a Jewish holiday gathering at Bondi Beach,” Commissioner Tisch said, her voice steady but somber. She noted that while there was “no known nexus” to New York City, the NYPD had significantly increased security at menorah lightings and synagogues out of an abundance of caution.

“Last night… Jews across this city and across the world said an extra prayer: Shehecheyanu,” Tisch observed. “It is, quite literally, a prayer expressing thanks for life. For being able to reach this moment.”

Food was served, supervised by the Crown Heights Beis Din. Traditional doughnuts and latkes were on the menu, but so were chicken poppers, Moroccan cigars, egg rolls and sliced fruit. A cantor performed and there was a short interlude between speeches that was filled with Jewish music.

Deputy Mayor Fabien Levy, introduced by Moshe Davis as the administration’s “highest-ranking Jew,” offered a blistering critique of the failure to protect Jewish communities abroad.

“There is no denying the Australian government’s response to the rising tide of antisemitism… has left the approximate 100,000 Jews in Australia less safe,” Levy said. He contrasted that vulnerability with New York, stating he was proud to work for a Mayor who “will do whatever is necessary to protect us.”

Fresh from a flight from Israel, Consul General Ofir Akunis bridged the gap between the diaspora and the homeland. He referred to Eretz Yisrael as “the Land of the Maccabees,” declaring that while the holiday felt hard to celebrate, the alternative was unacceptable.

“When we continue to value life and our traditions, our enemies value death and destruction,” Akunis said.

This sentiment was echoed by Moshe Davis, Executive Director of the Mayor’s Office to Combat Antisemitism, who outlined the concrete steps the Adams administration has taken to fortify the community, from adopting the IHRA definition of antisemitism to enforcing rules against BDS.

The mayor’s Deputy Chief of Staff, Menachem Shapiro, spoke of the administration’s bipartisan partnerships, “not just with community leaders, but with elected officials across the political spectrum. Regardless of party, when there’s a chance to partner with elected officials, we have done so. And that’s all because of the leadership of Mayor Adams.”

But the night belonged to Mayor Adams. In a speech that touched on history, theology, and raw emotion, he connected the dots between the persecution of the past and the silence of his political peers today.

He spoke of his visits to the gravesite of Ari Halberstam Hy’d, whose mother, Devorah, stood nearby. “People have a tendency to believe when the bullet leaves the barrel of the gun… that the pain dissipates,” Adams said. “The physical pathway only gives equal to the emotional trauma.”

His voice rising, Adams challenged the narrative that anti-Zionism is distinct from antisemitism. “It wasn’t Israel when you were put in the… quarters in Rome,” he reminded them. “It wasn’t Israel when you had to leave Spain… It wasn’t Israel when the Holocaust happened.”

He then turned his sights on those fair-weather friends of the Jewish community. “My question to you today: it is time for you to ask your friends that you have been there for, where are they now?” Adams demanded. “You cannot be a detached spectator watching these horrific actions take place every day.”

As his term draws to a close, Adams offered not a goodbye, but a promise of continued vigilance. He called on the crowd to wear their faith openly, their yarmulkes, their Stars of David, defying fear.

“If we live in fear, they won,” Adams declared. “I would not tell an African American to be afraid to be black… I would not tell a Muslim to be afraid of who they are.”

“Where are the Maccabees? Where are the population that’s willing to stand up and fight against darkness?” he asked, before answering his own question with a declaration that brought the room to its feet.

“I am a Maccabee. And I want the rest of the Maccabees to stand up and fight for what is right… You need to really understand, I am going nowhere.”

After the speeches, a menorah – crafted from rocket shrapnel taken from rockets that fell in Israel, fired by Hamas terrorists – was lit, as attendees heard a cantor deliver a heartfelt rendition of Maoz Tzur.