WINNIPEG — As the setting sun poured golden light through the high, arched windows of Shaarey Zedek Synagogue last Friday, Cantor Leslie Emery stepped forward to perform a ritual central to Jewish communal worship. Reaching toward the front of the sanctuary, she slid open a pair of heavy brass doors to reveal six sacred scrolls nestled within ornate coverings embroidered with intricate Hebrew lettering.
Five of these venerable objects contained the complete Torah—the foundational first five books of the Hebrew Bible—meticulously handwritten with quill and ink on traditional parchment. Several of the scrolls bore the weight of history, having survived for more than a century. Within this active congregation, these texts are not merely preserved as museum artifacts; they are read aloud from the bimah several times every week.
"When we read the stories of the Bible, when we read the stories of the prophets, when we observe Jewish holidays, we’re actually recounting the history of our ancestors," Emery explained to the attentive room.
While every Friday evening at Shaarey Zedek typically features a rabbi and a cantor leading members in a traditional prayer service to welcome the arrival of the Sabbath, this particular gathering carried a distinct atmosphere. Half of the people filling the sanctuary seats were members of the Jewish congregation, but the other half belonged to an entirely different Christian denomination. Twenty-five parishioners from Charleswood United Church had crossed town to join their Jewish neighbors for worship, participating in a service that would conclude with a shared community meal. The exchange is set to continue next month, when 25 members of the synagogue will visit Charleswood United to experience a Christian service.
This bridge-building initiative comes at a time of notable geopolitical and social friction between certain Canadian Christian and Jewish institutions. In December 2023, the United Church of Canada publicly characterized Israel’s military campaign in Gaza—launched in retaliation for the devastating October 7 Hamas attacks—as a genocide, while also issuing formal calls for a ceasefire. That decision drew sharp criticism and deep disappointment from the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs. Furthermore, the United Church has previously alienated various Jewish advocacy groups by endorsing selective boycotts of commercial goods produced within Israeli settlements in the West Bank.
Yet, leaders from both congregations insisted that the shadow of broader denominational disputes did not belong inside the sanctuary walls on a Friday night.
"We’re not walking into each other’s buildings trying to persuade one another to join our religion. That’s not what it’s about," said Rabbi Carnie Rose. "We want to be in fellowship, sharing what makes us tick, what makes us feel, what makes us special and unique."
Reverend Michael Wilson of Charleswood United acknowledged the well-documented tensions that have strained relations across the broader Canadian religious landscape, but emphasized that grass-roots reconciliation must start at the local level.
"We’re recognizing that there’s been some tensions and difficulties for the Jewish community in Winnipeg, and we want to be part of the resolution to that, to be neighbours and friends," Wilson said. He added that within the structure of the United Church, individual members maintain diverse perspectives, noting that not everyone in his congregation aligns uniformly with every official policy enacted by national church bodies. "I don’t think our congregation is totally on board with some of the positions the United Church has taken, and in the United Church you’re allowed to do that," he noted.
The primary objective, participants agreed, was rooted simply in the pursuit of being good neighbors within the local Winnipeg community.
Before the liturgy commenced, Cantor Emery drew attention to an inscription carved in Hebrew along the front of the lectern. Translating the phrase for the visitors, she noted the words read: "Love your neighbour as you love yourself"—a moral imperative deeply familiar to anyone raised in the Christian tradition.
"I feel like I’m welcoming some neighbours into our sacred space today," Emery said.
The evening quickly evolved into an interactive cultural and spiritual dialogue. Early in the gathering, a curious visitor from Charleswood United raised a hand to ask why Hebrew script is read from right to left.
Rabbi Rose offered a lighthearted response rooted in his diverse international career. "You think that’s difficult? I was a rabbi in Japan," he said, gesturing vertically with a smile. "That’s a whole other story."
As Emery tuned her acoustic guitar in preparation for the musical portions of the service, Rose took a moment to elaborate on the critical role the cantor plays in modern Jewish worship. "The cantor is the minister of music, the heart and soul of what happens up here," he told the assembly. "Much of what we do is singing, because we know that music moves the spirit and allows us to feel the presence of the divine in our lives."
To ensure the visitors felt included, projected screens beside the original texts displayed transliterations of the Hebrew liturgy, allowing the Charleswood parishioners to follow along phonetically.
"Nobody in the history of Jewish tradition has ever been thrown out of synagogue for singing too loud or off key," Rose joked reassuringly. "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord. That’s what it’s all about."
The service opened with the recitation of the Kaddish, the traditional mourner’s prayer honoring those who have recently passed away. The congregation then transitioned into welcoming melodies for the Sabbath, accompanied by the chanting of Psalms. At least one musical selection resonated instantly with nearly everyone in the room: a melody composed by the late Leonard Cohen, one of Judaism’s most celebrated literary and musical bards.
Following the formal prayers, the two communities moved to a fellowship hall, mingling over a hearty meal of roast chicken and seasonal vegetables. Over dinner, conversations flowed freely, exploring both the deep theological distinctions and the shared daily struggles of modern religious life.
Cross-cultural questions bridged the gap between traditions. Attendees discussed how a Jewish bar or bat mitzvah ceremony compares structurally to Christian confirmation classes. Others inquired about the symbolic meaning of the cup of wine used in Jewish rituals, prompting an explanation that within Judaism, the cup represents joy rather than representing blood, as it does during Christian communion services.
Lighter local topics also surfaced, including the burning question of how observant Jewish families handle major sports events—such as a Winnipeg Blue Bombers football game—occurring on Friday nights, a time when television viewing is traditionally restricted due to the onset of the Sabbath.
"Unless someone else turns on the TV and you just happen to walk through the room," Rose quipped.
Beneath the warm fellowship, serious administrative and pastoral concerns facing both faiths emerged. Nancy Jeffries, a lifelong member of Charleswood United, shared her congregation’s anxieties regarding dwindling weekly attendance figures and the diminishing presence of young families in the pews. "How do we make it relevant for parents and their children?" she asked.
Paulie Rose, who is married to the rabbi, noted that these existential questions transcend denominational lines. "It’s not just the Christian community asking those questions," she observed.
The conversation also touched upon social evolution within the church. Karen Riddell recounted the internal journey of Charleswood United as it navigated the process of becoming an affirming, fully inclusive community for 2SLGBTQ+ individuals. "Every person voted yes," she recalled proudly, "even people in their 80s and 90s."
As the evening wound down, Reverend Wilson asked Rabbi Rose to elaborate on how Jewish and Christian traditions approach scriptural interpretation differently. Rose explained that within Jewish scholarship, sacred texts are never studied in isolation; instead, they are permanently paired with centuries of commentary, debate, and rabbinic interpretation.
"We believe the Messiah is still on his way, and you believe he’s on his way back," Rose said with a warm smile before adopting a more reflective tone. "It’s nice to talk about the things that are different. Not because they divide us, but because they’re interesting."