Nate Leipciger, a 97-year-old Holocaust survivor, delivers a stark message to Toronto’s Jewish community: stand firm. Following a recent wave of antisemitic attacks – mezuzahs ripped from doors on Christmas Day, the second such incident this month – his advice isn’t one of retreat, but of resolute defiance.
The attacks, targeting elderly residents near Bayview and Finch Aves., have stirred deep concern, but for Leipciger, the greatest fear isn’t his own safety. It’s the insidious impact on future generations, the potential for young people to internalize hatred and question their own identity.
“Don’t be ashamed to be Jewish,” he urges, his voice echoing with the weight of history. He remembers a time when such hatred forced him to consider leaving Canada, seeking refuge in Israel. But flight isn’t the answer now, he believes. The answer is to confront the darkness, not to hide from it.
Leipciger’s own story is etched in the horrors of the 20th century. Born in Poland in 1928, his family’s escape from Nazi Germany proved tragically short-lived. Auschwitz became the last place he saw his mother and sister alive. He survived, alongside his father, enduring the brutality of multiple camps before liberation in 1945, eventually finding a new home in Canada.
These recent incidents aren’t isolated acts of malice, he insists. They are symptoms of a deeper, more dangerous trend. Just weeks earlier, around 100 mezuzahs were torn down from a building on Bathurst Street. The synagogue nearby has also been repeatedly targeted.
The current climate, fueled by demonstrations and anti-Israel rallies, has instilled fear within the Jewish community since the October 7th attacks. Jewish neighborhoods have been confronted, businesses vandalized, and synagogues and schools threatened with graffiti, assaults, arson, and even shootings.
Leipciger recalls the agonizing questions he posed to his own father while imprisoned in a concentration camp: “Why me? What’s wrong with me?” He fears his great-grandchildren are now grappling with the same devastating inquiries. He understands the vulnerability of youth exposed to such hatred.
“They want you to cower and hide your identity,” he explains, “because that’s what they need.” He stresses that silence and concealment only embolden those who seek to spread hate. The world now knows the dangers of unchecked prejudice, he says, and it’s crucial to remember that such horrors begin with words and small acts of aggression.
The attacks are a stark reminder that antisemitism isn’t a relic of the past, but a present and growing threat. The call for accountability and protection is growing louder, demanding urgent action from law enforcement and officials at all levels.
Leipciger’s message transcends personal security. It’s a plea for resilience, a demand for pride, and a powerful testament to the enduring strength of identity in the face of hatred.
