April 2025
Gustavo Rymberg

As the CEO of the Hamilton Jewish Federation — and as a proud Jew — these past months have weighed heavily on my heart. Like many of you, I have been consumed by anguish, helplessness, and anger. The horrific scenes from Israel, the unbearable wait for news about the hostages, and the grotesque mockery from Palestinians —  celebrating terror, laughing at our pain — have left me shaken to the core. Watching the funeral of the Bibas family — little Kfir, just a baby, his brother Ariel, and their mother, all murdered — was one of the hardest moments I’ve ever lived through. The sense of hopelessness, of not being able to do anything, of crying out into silence, is something I know many of us have felt. It’s a hunger for justice that seems impossible to satisfy.

And while we mourn and ache for Israel, we face a different kind of pain here in Canada. A pain that comes from betrayal. A country we once believed in — one that stood for tolerance, decency, and freedom — is no longer standing strong for its Jewish citizens. The surge in antisemitism, the normalization of anti-Zionist rhetoric, the silence of our leaders — it is not just disappointing, it is frightening. And yet, we are not without hope. We are fortunate to live in a democracy. Elections are coming, and maybe — just maybe — things will change. The wheels of justice turn slowly, but they do turn.

At the very least, we can find some relief knowing that one of the most radical, fanatical, and openly antisemitic and anti-Israel voices in Canadian politics — Sarah Jama — is finally out of the picture. I may be too optimistic, but I believe we won’t hear from her again for a long time. Her removal is a small victory in a landscape that feels increasingly hostile.

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit Budapest and Vienna — two cities with their own complicated Jewish histories. What I experienced there was eye-opening. No Palestinian flags. No keffiyehs. No hate-filled graffiti. No protests calling for the destruction of Israel. Instead, I saw memorials in public squares for the Israeli hostages; trees with yellow ribbons in solidarity; Israeli flags hanging from balconies and public buildings with pride; mayors and ministers who are unafraid to call out hatred, who speak plainly and courageously against terrorism and fanaticism. It was a striking contrast to what we see in Toronto or Montreal, where fear and appeasement often silence truth.

In Europe — where you might expect to feel tension — I felt support. In Canada — our home — I often feel isolated. We are being tested, and it’s a test we cannot afford to fail.

Around the world, things feel uncertain. In the United States — our strongest ally — the political landscape shifts daily. Tariffs, no tariffs. Ceasefire, no ceasefire. Words that bring hope one day, despair the next. The uncertainty is paralyzing at times. But we cannot allow fear to immobilize us. We owe it to ourselves, to each other, to our children and grandchildren — to keep going, to keep building, to keep fighting for the community we love.

Now, more than ever, we must bring the Jewish voice into every room where decisions are made. Onto school boards. Into committees. Into other nonprofit organizations. Into our children’s schools. Into every space where we can stand up, speak out, and represent. And, critically, we must bring that voice to the ballot box when we vote.

We cannot afford to be divided. Not now. Not over egos or petty disagreements. Not over things that are not truly essential. This is a time for unity, for clarity of purpose, for courage. We must protect and strengthen what we’ve built together in Hamilton. We must support the people of Israel, in word and in deed. And we must dare to dream — of new initiatives, new programs, new ways of bringing Jewish life to the next level here at home.

By doing so, we create something greater than ourselves. We create security. We create pride. We create unity. And we do it together — not just as Jews, but as Canadians who believe in a future here. A future where we don’t have to hide, where we don’t have to apologize for who we are or for our love of Israel.

We are proud. And we are here — for good.