Graydon Nicholas, a retired lawyer, judge and an elder from the Wolastoqey First Nation in New Brunswick, understands only too well the negative impact of colonization on Indigenous people in the Americas.

He also understands the role the Roman Catholic Church played in it through what became known as the Doctrine of Discovery — the idea that by “discovering” the Americas, colonizing countries like Spain and Portugal could claim Indigenous land as their own.

But Nicholas, who is Roman Catholic, also believes the story is more complicated than most people realize and also incomplete without noting opposition from those in the Church during that age of discovery and conquest.

That includes Dominican priests such as Antonio de Montesinos, who publicly condemned Spanish and Portuguese abuses against Indigenous people in the Americas during that time.

Due to unprecedented levels of antisemitism in Canada in the last few years, most organizers of Jewish community events, in Winnipeg as elsewhere across the country, no longer publicly advertise the location of those events, choosing instead to share that information only with those who are registered in advance and, in some cases, only to those who provide proof of identification.

The fact that the organizers of a conference entitled Faith Not Fear still felt the need to follow that practice is less ironic than it is pragmatic. Not publicly identifying the conference’s location seemed to be the only way to ensure that its participants could safely meet to learn about protecting themselves, their community institutions and their freedom to walk through university campuses and city streets without being harassed because of their religion, culture or an international conflict in which they play no part.

Faith Not Fear: Building Jewish Leadership for a New Era in Canada took place in Vaughan, Ont., on the evening of Sunday, June 14. It was, as Simon Wolle, CEO of conference co-sponsor B’nai Brith Canada, explains, “a fresh initiative bringing together voices and organizations at a time when there is a national crisis of antisemitism.”

“The conference was inspired by the need to address Canada’s systemic failure to address threats to the Jewish community, the ongoing threat to Canadian values and its effect on the lived experience of Jewish Canadians in particular,” Wolle said.

There’s a rule in nature that you can’t only do one thing. If you dam a river to make hydroelectricity, you will impede the fish trying to swim upriver to spawn. If you drain wetlands, flooding usually increases elsewhere. If you remove trees from steep slopes, erosion results.

In December, last year, Canada experienced the truth of that rule in another way. That’s when Parliament passed Bill C-3 to extend citizenship to those born outside of Canada.

The new rules retroactively restore Canadian citizenship to someone who was born outside of Canada before December 15, 2025 and who can prove that an ancestor, such as grandparent or great-grandparent, was a Canadian citizen on or after January 1, 1947.

Called the Act to Amend the Citizenship Act, the bill was designed to fix a problem that arose after an Ontario court ruled the “first-generation limit” on citizenship was unconstitutional.

“As an observant Jew who was celebrating Shavuot, a holiday mentioned in the Hebrew Bible as a time of rejoicing, I was shocked to open my paper on Friday morning to see our premier indulging in an antisemitic Christian trope — apparently being tough on drug dealers is ‘Old Testament,’ and having love and compassion for drug users is ‘New Testament’?”

That’s what a writer of a letter to the editor of the Free Press said last week. He was writing in response to a remark made by premier Wab Kinew about his approach to drug dealers and drug users in the province.

At an event on May 21, Kinew said Manitoba’s stance would be “Old Testament for the drug dealers, New Testament for the drug users.”

By that he meant there will be “harm reduction and compassion and recovery” for users, but “law enforcement” for those who deal drugs.

Decades have passed since We Shall Overcome was deemed the unofficial anthem of the American civil rights and anti-war movements, but the folk song — originally a gospel spiritual — remains as relevant today, and as frequently sung, as it was back in the 1960s. In the last few months alone, the song’s lyrics have loudly echoed through the crowds at non-violent rallies, protests and sit-ins around the world, and been performed onstage by renowned artists, social activists and community choirs.

One of those community choirs is the Canadian Mennonite University’s (CMU) Voices for Peace. Voices for Peace was launched in March 2026 as an extension of the Anabaptist university’s Singing Resistance program. That program had brought like-minded voices together earlier in the winter to sing in solidarity with those being affected by the ICE raids in Minneapolis.

“We started getting questions about how this work might extend to community protests,” says Anneli Loepp Thiessen, an assistant professor of music at the university and one of the choir co-ordinators. “So we began Voices for Peace as a mobile, rapid-response group that can share music for peace at protests or other community events.”

The mobile, rapid-response nature of the group means that it is not a traditional or typical choir.

Programmers, computer scientists and software, mechanical, data and prompt engineers — these are some of the professions behind the creation of artificial intelligence. Should theologians and faith leaders also be involved?

Meghan Sullivan, a Roman Catholic who teaches philosophy at the University of Notre Dame, says yes. That’s why she was glad to attend a meeting in March at the invitation of Anthropic, the creator of Claude AI, about the role religion can play in the creation of this life-changing technology.

Sullivan, who also directs the university’s Institute for Ethics and the Common Good, was there with 15 other Christian philosophers, theologians and leaders to discuss the implications of AI for society today — and how it can be taught to behave ethically and morally using religion as a guide.

I spoke with Sullivan this week about that meeting. “I’m very grateful for Anthropic’s leadership in this area with faith communities,” she said, noting that most AI companies are not doing that. “It should have happened sooner, but better late than never.”

Amal Elsana Alhjooj is not a person to sit idly by when she encounters a challenge, conflict or situation that needs correcting. Over the years, that attitude and activism have led her to establish several innovative social justice and civil society initiatives that, among other achievements, have enhanced the livelihood and independence of Bedouin women in Israel, where Alhjooj was raised, and the relationship between Jews and Arabs both in Israel, Palestine and in Canada, where Alhjooj now lives.

Alhjooj’s most recent venture is a series of workshops called Solidarity Dialogues.

Solidarity Dialogues is an offshoot of PLEDJ, a social change non-profit that Alhjooj, who is Muslim, co-established in 2021 with Brian Bronfman, the Jewish president of the Peace Network for Social Harmony, to empower and organize marginalized communities to address systematic injustices that impede their lives.

Solidarity Dialogues is more narrow in scope, as it is designed specifically to address the deep seated polarization currently permeating Canadian workplaces, schools and society in general. Solidarity Dialogues’ series of workshops provide participants with the tools to navigate that polarization and the heated, intolerant and uncomfortable exchanges that tend to characterize that polarization. By differentiating between dialogue and debate, and hurt and harm, the workshops provide participants with safe spaces in which to step out of their comfort zones, listen empathetically and openly to others’ lived experiences, and develop mutual understanding and an ability to respond to conflict.

North Americans still can’t find out who was in the Epstein files. But those of German descent who live in Canada and the U.S. can now easily learn if their ancestors were Nazis.

In March, the U.S. National Archives released a searchable database containing the records of millions of Germans who joined the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, or Nazi Party, from 1929-43.

Through the records, which were seized by the Americans following the second World War, those who want to know can find out if grandpa or grandma was a Nazi.

Prior to the online release of the records, getting that information was a laborious process that involved making a written request to the Berlin Document Centre in Germany or the German federal archives. It could take months to get a response.