There is a feeling that arrives with the November chill. A familiar pull, a hum of something ancient in the blood. It is the memory of mountain air and the scent of cedar. It is the ghost of a laugh across a Beirut balcony. You can try to ignore it, habibi, but you might as well tell the Atlantic Ocean to be quiet. You are Lebanese, whether you like it or not. And this month, that is something to celebrate with every fiber of your being.

This is not a call to nostalgia. This is a call to pride. A call to presence.

On Sunday, November 23rd, at 5 PM, we are gathering at the Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21. We are not gathering for a formal ceremony. We are gathering for a family reunion. The Honorary Consul Wadih Fares and Cathy Fares will be there to welcome you, not as dignitaries, but as family. The plan is simple, and beautifully so. We will raise the flag. We will sing two anthems that now live in our hearts. And then we will do what we do best: we will talk, we will laugh, we will remember, and we will look forward. No suit is required. No “who’s who” matters. The moment belongs to all of us.

Maybe you have been here for fifty years. Maybe your Arabic is now a language of the heart, not the tongue. Maybe you feel more Canadian than Lebanese on most days. Good. That means you have put down strong roots. But a tree can have roots in two soils. “Perplexed is the soul of my nation, for it is divided between the sweetness of its dreams and the bitterness of its awakening. But I am not perplexed, for I am certain that the rock does not fear the wind, nor the cedar the storm” our Gibran wrote. You are allowed to be both. You are, in fact, magnificent because you are both. Your presence here is not an obligation; it is an affirmation. The cedar still belongs to you, and you, against all distance and time, still belong to it.

Our homeland today feels fragile. Its institutions are strained, and its families are scattered across the globe. Many fear the country is losing its sharp contours as recent years have created new and urgent questions about sovereignty, identity, and stability. This concern is not simply political. It is deeply existential. Lebanese-American Tom Barrack lately reflected on the region with a direct warning. He stated that Lebanon risks returning to Bilad al Sham, a historical term for Greater Syria, if Beirut does not act swiftly to resolve major issues.

We cannot allow Lebanon to fade. This is precisely why our role matters now. In its beautiful and heartbreaking state, our homeland needs its children to be tall and strong. The writer Amin Maalouf speaks of identities that feel murderous when we are forced to choose between them. But here in Canada, we possess the sacred privilege of refusing to choose. We can be both. We must be both. By standing tall here, we send a powerful message across the ocean that Lebanon cannot fail because it lives on within us. It lives in our voices, in our families, in our food, and in our unwavering spirit. We are the living legacy of those early immigrants who arrived right here at Pier 21, those who were registered as “Syrians” or called “Turco.” Do not let that hard won and special “Lebanese” identity disappear again.

This is for the newcomers, finding their footing in a new land. This is for the great-grandchildren, who need to see the symbol of their heritage flying proud against the Halifax sky. For them, it is a lesson no classroom can teach; that their identity is not divided but multiplied. That their story is one of resilience and joy.

So, we ask you one simple thing. Show up.

Come as you are. Come directly from work, come with your family in tow, come alone and find a new friend. Bring your children and point to the flag as it climbs the pole. Let them see it. Let them feel it. In that one simple act, you are not just attending an event. You are holding a line. You are honoring the journeys that brought us here, you are celebrating the lives we have built, and you are declaring, for all to see, that the cedar may bend in the storm, but it will never, ever break.

When: Sunday, November 23, 5:00 PM
Where: Canadian Museum of Immigration at Pier 21

One hour. One flag. One family.
Yalla, Halifax. Let’s show them how it’s done.