Silence has never protected the vulnerable; it has only emboldened hatred

Friends.

We gather today because something vital is at stake, not only the safety and dignity of our Jewish brothers and sisters, but the soul of our society itself.

And we gather as people of many faiths and convictions. Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Sikh, Hindu, people of other traditions and people of none. We come with different political instincts, different histories, different experiences of the world. Yet we stand here together because some truths must transcend every division.

One of those truths is this: antisemitism is evil, and it must be confronted wherever it appears.

Antisemitism is not an accidental prejudice drifting through history like some natural wave beyond our control. It is a deliberately cultivated and deeply rooted system of hatred, one that has adapted itself across centuries, across ideologies, across nations and political movements. And wherever antisemitism flourishes, other forms of hatred are never far behind: racism, xenophobia, extremism, conspiracy, and they always metastase into violence.

This is why we must resist the temptation of false equivalencies and whataboutism. Every form of hatred must be challenged. But antisemitism possesses a particular persistence and ubiquity that demands moral clarity. It mutates. It survives. It appears across the political spectrum and feeds on fear, grievance, and division.

And perhaps most dangerously of all, it grows when public voices choose outrage over responsibility; when influence is used not to strengthen the social fabric, but to tear it apart; when platforms capable of shaping culture become instruments for scapegoating, mockery, and suspicion.

Words matter. Platforms matter. Leadership matters.

When public figures trade in conspiracy, humiliation, and division, they do not merely inflame opinion; they corrode the moral foundations of a nation. Leadership that profits from division is not courage. It is recklessness. And rhetoric that dehumanises any community ultimately threatens every community.

History teaches us with terrifying consistency that when antisemitism rises unchecked, democracy itself begins to decay.

That is why the safety and freedom of Jewish citizens is not a Jewish issue alone. It is a democratic issue. A national issue. A human issue.

Antisemitism is not a problem for Jewish people to solve by themselves. It is a test of the moral health of the whole society. And the burden of confronting it cannot rest only on those who suffer from it. It belongs to all of us.

For Christians, standing against antisemitism is not an optional act of generosity toward somebody else. It is a matter of spiritual integrity

Because no society can call itself free while any community lives in fear.

For those of us shaped by faith, this conviction runs deep. The Jesus I follow was born Jewish, lived Jewish, worshipped as a Jew.

So for Christians, standing against antisemitism is not an optional act of generosity toward somebody else. It is a matter of spiritual integrity. We cannot claim to love Jesus while remaining indifferent to hatred directed toward the people from whom he came.

But this gathering is larger than any one tradition. Across our differences, we share a common responsibility: to protect one another’s humanity. To defend one another’s dignity. To refuse the politics of hatred and fear.

And that means we cannot be neutral in the face of antisemitism.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said: “We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.” Those words carry profound urgency today. Our destinies are bound together. The suffering of one community diminishes us all. The flourishing of one community strengthens us all.

So today I want to issue a call, not only to sympathy, but to solidarity and allyship.

This solidarity starts with a commitment to listen to Jewish voices without defensiveness. Believe people when they tell you what hatred feels like. Interrupt antisemitism in daily life; in conversation, online, in workplaces, schools, places of worship, and public institutions.

Silence has never protected the vulnerable; it has only emboldened hatred.

And let us invest deeply in interfaith friendship, education, and encounter. Because when communities truly know one another, fear begins to lose its power. We need coalitions strong enough, compassionate enough, and courageous enough to build a different future together.

A future where Jewish life flourishes openly and joyfully. A future where hatred is not normalised. A future worthy of the words: Never Again.

But “Never Again” cannot remain a slogan we inherit from history. It must become a commitment we embody through action.

So let us be the generation that refuses indifference. Let us be the generation that interrupts hatred before it becomes violence. Let us be the generation that means it when we say: Never Again.

Let us leave this place resolved to build communities where Jewish people are not merely tolerated, but safe, valued, protected, and cherished.

Because ultimately this truth remains: No one is safe until everyone is safe.

Thank you.