#During the Israel-Hamas war, three faith leaders are uniting their communities

Irshad Osman: I conduct sermons at four mosques across Toronto. I’m also a sacred journey fellow at Interfaith America, a non-profit that trains interfaith leaders. In this line of work, most practitioners try to keep their messages inside people’s comfort zones; they don’t often talk about real issues that divide us. To me, this is a problem. This particular conflict has become so intense that some faith leaders have altogether abandoned their balanced approaches, instead advocating—some very publicly—for one side without sympathizing with the other. Since graduating from the seminary, I have been able to bring people from the Muslim community, as well as other faiths, to the peacemaking movement. My mission in multi-faith circles, as well as in my sermons, is to prevent congregants from retreating into their own enclaves and demonizing people of other beliefs.

I understand why people are angry. This war has been atrocious. One of our imams in Toronto lost 18 of his family members in bombings, all on the same day. Still, we cannot allow that anger to turn into hatred, which is often misdirected. It does not land with the people who have committed violent acts in Gaza; it stays right here in our communities. In a recent sermon, I told people that they should not turn to the echo chamber of social media to air their grievances. The Quran tells us we should always verify the truth of a message before spreading it; that doesn’t always happen on WhatsApp. Instead, we are prone to taking a firm stance about the war, with no regard for finding common ground.   

Interfaith vigils are a way for us to truly come together. When I speak at these events, I tell attendees that, rather than stirring up more anger, they must remember that death is death, and that it pains everyone the same. When one mourns the death of a Palestinian, they should also consider that some Jewish people are also experiencing that pain. After my talks, the people who want to speak with me are rarely Muslim; they’re usually from other faiths. At a recent vigil, a tall, bearded Jewish man in his 70s told me, with tears in his eyes, that he wished he’d had the chance to attend multi-faith events earlier in life to realize how much he shared with others outside of his religion. I have many examples like that: after the Easter Sunday bombing in Sri Lanka in 2019, I spoke to a large crowd of Christians at a church in Scarborough. Emotions were running high, because the attackers were part of the Muslim community. During my speech, I shared my own experience, my own personal trauma, of being a victim of a bomb blast in Sri Lanka in 1995, at the height of the civil war. Several people in attendance told me that hearing my story helped them avoid making the same mistake as the perpetrators of the heinous attacks in Sri Lanka: dehumanizing others. The story helped them find solace. 

Peacemaking moments like that one will shape our future. We cannot become strangers in our own city. All around us, there are positive examples of dialogue. Recently, more than 33 faith leaders from Ottawa—some Muslim, some Jewish—issued a joint statement that condemned hatred in all its forms. Vigils like the one at Withrow Park remind us that, despite the atrocities we are witnessing, we must hold on to hope.

Bri-anne Swan: Our community at East End United Regional Ministry is hurting for our Muslim and Jewish friends, and we do not always know how to help. So when the East Toronto Multifaith Community asked me to participate in the multi-faith vigil in Withrow Park, I immediately said yes. Like everyone else, faith leaders can find it intimidating to speak about the war, which is a challenging and polarizing topic, with nuance and compassion. Still, showing up matters. On October 29, I stood alongside a Unitarian minister, a rabbi and an imam, sharing a clear message: as people of faith, we believe there is something more—to believe in and to work for. And we must work toward justice and peace.

There were far more people in attendance than I expected. I figured we’d only be joined by members of our respective faith communities. I had no idea people from the neighbourhood—many of whom had no religious affiliation at all—needed this time as well. Rabbi Glickman was the first to speak, and she ended her time with a prayer for peace, which she sang beautifully. I had also planned on ending my segment with “Kyrie Eleison (Lord Have Mercy),” a sung prayer. After I was done, I said to Rabbi Glickman: “We’re going to sing together sometime, right?” After we all finished speaking, the four faith leaders hugged and shook hands. 

This fall, East End United provided shelter for 30 asylum seekers from Nigeria, Kenya, Ethiopia, and Uganda who couldn’t find space in Toronto’s shelter system. We spend much of our time tending to those people—making meals and gathering everyday supplies—with help from members of the Danforth Jewish Circle and the Neighbourhood Unitarian Universalist Congregation. We all share a building, and in late October, the exterior was tagged with graffiti. Police now visit once a day to make sure everything is okay. In mid-November, during the Danforth Jewish Circle’s Shabbat service, our congregation formed a circle around the building’s entrance as a demonstration of support for the safety of our Jewish friends. I’m committed to protecting these relationships as we pray for an end to the conflict.

As told to Alex Cyr