Sharlene Weitzman: I survived the Belleville synagogue shooting and feel unsafe in Canada - National Post

Copy URL Facebook Linked In X (Twitter) Loading account options Sign In Manage Account Close account menu Sign Out Sharlene Weitzman was at the Sons of Jacob synagogue with her family Belleville, Ont. when it was attacked by a shooter during Yom Kippur on on Sept. 20, 2026. By Sharlene Weitzman November 4, 2026 at 6:00 a.m. Just over a month ago, I went to synagogue to pray. I left by police escort after having survived the potentially “largest massacre in Canadian history.”As we headed out of the synagogue, I told my son that the police had provided us transportation by city bus. His response was, “It’s better than a train.” He was referring to the trains that took Jews to the death camps of Auschwitz. My son’s remark and the word “massacre” as uttered by the chief of the Belleville Police, haunt me. This is his inheritance. This is his life now in Canada.

On Sept. 20, during Yom Kippur services at the Sons of Jacob Synagogue in Belleville, Ont., gunfire erupted outside our place of worship. As we took cover from the bullets flying at us through the stained-glass windows, constables Jeff Smith and Michael McCurdy protected our congregation and my family from the 29-year-old shooter, Sean Ward, who reportedly expressed antisemitic statements regularly.

These heroes did not walk away in the face of danger. Smith fought a heroic battle alone for roughly 2.5 minutes before McCurdy arrived joined the gunfire.

We survived because Smith and McCurdy courageously stood between us and Ward, who shot directly at them while yelling repeatedly, “You are going to die for the Jews,” as they crouched by their vehicles. We know his intentions, because his antisemitic rant was caught on video by a witness. Bullets also reportedly pierced nearby civilian homes and vehicles.

Through their combined efforts, Ward was stopped. He succumbed to his injuries in the hospital the next day.

Smith received wounds to his head and torso and was gravely hurt. Thankfully, McCurdy was physically unharmed. I thank G-d for their presence and for Smith’s recovery several times a day.

Just over a month later, I am discovering that surviving violence and recovering from it are entirely different experiences.

I have spent much of my professional life working with children, families, soldiers and veterans experiencing profound conflict, trauma and relational breakdown. I understand how the nervous system responds to danger. I understand the importance of safety, predictability and connection in recovery.

Understanding trauma, however, does not exempt me from experiencing it.

My body continues to respond to danger, even when my mind knows the immediate threat has passed. Sensory experiences feel more intense. Ordinary demands require more effort. Sleep, emotional regulation and simply moving through the world each day have become part of a recovery process I did not anticipate.

There is something particularly disorienting about knowing precisely what is happening to you professionally, while initially being unable to reason my nervous system out of its response.

Recovery is not simply a matter of deciding to feel safe again. For all Jewish Canadians, the question has become increasingly difficult: are we safe in Canada? And if so, for how long? Some are planning to leave Canada. But where can we go and be safe?

In mid-October, violent unrest began to sweep through parts of France and Italy. In Paris, a synagogue was vandalized. Jewish-owned businesses were damaged, alongside others. In Milan, demonstrations descended into clashes with police, looting and fires. The “student-led protests” reportedly arose from multiple grievances, including economic hardship.

Having recently survived violence towards Jews, the images in Europe do not remain comfortably distant international news. They gnaw at my unhealed wounds. They bring me back to my synagogue that night. They bring me back to the sounds of gunfire I heard, while I imagined who and how many had come to kill myself and my family, simply because we are Jews.

I grew up in Canada during the 1970s and 1980s. It was not a perfect country. Prejudice, inequality and injustice certainly existed. But I grew up believing that our national project was to build something better together. Canada’s promise was not that we would agree. It was that we could disagree without surrendering our shared humanity.

I believed being Canadian and Jewish were entirely compatible identities. As Jews, we did have security guards, even in those days, but I did not imagine a future in which attending synagogue would require armed protection or in which Jewish families would routinely calculate the risks of openly expressing their identity.

Yet here we are. I am Canadian. I am a Jew. I am no longer safe in Canada. That is not a working social contract.

In June, Prime Minister acknowledged that Canada’s civic compact is failing Jewish Canadians. He called the crisis of antisemitism in this country “specific” and “severe,” noting that it “demands a targeted response.” This was before the shooting at my synagogue. Where is that targeted response, prime minister?

In my professional work, I use the concept of “relational ecology” to understand how safety, belonging, responsibility, boundaries and reciprocity shape human functioning. These principles are no less relevant to nations. Canada cannot sustain any, let alone meaningful, pluralism when some of its members must devote extraordinary energy simply to participate in ordinary civic life.

Nor can social cohesion survive when political identities become permission to dehumanize others. For example, in the streets of Montreal, anti-Israel protesters have been recorded chanting, “All Zionists are racists. All Zionists are terrorists.” It is a well-known fact that most Canadian Jews are Zionists, meaning they support the existence of Israel as the Jewish homeland.

Canadians must be able to criticize all governments, challenge public policy and protest injustice. Those freedoms are essential. But Jewish Canadians must also be able to attend synagogue, educate their children, express their identities and participate in public life without intimidation or violence.

The rights of Jews and Islam are not in competition. We can acknowledge there is a global tsunami of antisemitism without having to discuss or even mention Islamophobia.

Const. Smith guarded our synagogue on Yom Kippur. He understood something fundamental about public service. His responsibility was to protect Canadians exercising their freedom of religion. He paid an extraordinary personal price, as did his wife, children, family, friends and colleagues.

The courage of Smith and McCurdy deserves more than gratitude. It deserves a national commitment to ensuring that such protection does not become the permanent condition of Jewish religious life.

The responsibility also belongs to leaders of our institutions; universities, professional organizations, educators, neighbours and ordinary Canadians who decide what conduct they will tolerate. Silence is complicity.

In September, I experienced the terrifying collapse of an assumption I had carried for most of my life, that I was safe in Canada as a Canadian born, raised and bred in Ontario. I will not allow fear to become the organizing principle of my life. Trauma recovery involves gradually rediscovering the capacity to live without organizing every moment around danger.

Canada faces a parallel task for its survival. It must rebuild the conditions in which people can trust one another across differences, exercise their freedoms without intimidation and recognize that standing up for another person’s safety strengthens, rather than diminishes, their own safety.

I am not asking for the Canada of my childhood to be recreated. I am asking whether Canadians still possess the collective will to honour what we claimed to be building.

After surviving gunfire at a Canadian synagogue, I learned something I never wanted to know: a country can remain your home while no longer feeling like a safe place to live. Recovering that lost sense of belonging must become more than the responsibility of those who have lost it.

Sharlene Weitzman holds a masters of social work from York University, is a registered social worker with the Ontario College of Social Workers and Social Service Workers. She is a certified play therapy supervisor with the Canadian Association of Play Therapy. Weitzman also holds a masters of law from Queen’s University specializing in family law.

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