A Tribute to My Friend Embry Canterbury
Much is rightly said about the horrors of October 7th, a day of unimaginable terror that forever altered Jewish history and the Jewish psyche. As of this writing, we continue to pray for our remaining hostages to return home and for this war to come to an end. We are mindful and mournful of the captured and the murdered, we honor those who have defended the nation and its people, and we look ahead for closure of this chapter and hold cautious optimism for the start of the next. And yet, from the ashes of that horrific day and its aftermath, flashes of light began to shine. Though we may weep through the night, there is some joy in the morning.
People from every walk of life— Jews and non-Jews — were deeply affected by the events of October 7th. While some tried to contextualize, defend, or remain neutral, others saw what occurred and felt an undeniable call to action. In a world where it is often easy or convenient to look away from evil, there were people who saw the darkness and were compelled to run toward it in the name of mercy and light.
One of the brightest lights was my friend Embry Canterbury. He passed away, suddenly and tragically, on June 20, 2025.
He is a man worthy of tribute. In manner and deed, he evidenced the kind of character to which I aspire. And while many have spoken of his life and loss, I wanted to reflect on one part of his story that deeply affected me: how he was so moved by the tragedy of October 7th and joined a movement of solidarity for Israel that transcended religion and nationality. When people ask me how Israel and its people can grow and further a foundation of support, I tell them the story of Embry, of an Episcopalian from Texas and what he did for the Jewish people.
Before October 7th, Embry had a deep spiritual connection to the Holy Land. He had close friendships and long business ties with Jewish colleagues. He respected and admired Judaism. He had dreamed of visiting Israel but that tangible, personal bond remained elusive. Then the Seventh’s darkness fell. In response, Embry glowed with resolve. Whether he imagined his own family so affected, or was simply appalled at the violation of humanity, Embry was changed and felt this attack intimately.
Embry wasn’t alone in this response. Since that awful day, I’ve witnessed individuals, groups, and organizations of like-minded people who stood up on October 8th and decided, without hesitation, to commit their time, money, networks, and hearts to defend the Jewish state and the Jewish people. From combating antisemitism on college campuses, in corporate boardrooms, and on social media platforms, to supporting hostages and their families, to advocating for Israel’s very right to exist—this is a community transformed by tragedy into one of purpose. These people do not all share the same faith, the same politics, or the same flag, but they all share an alignment of heart against the horrors of this war and for the endurance of the Jewish people.
I had the honor of taking Embry to Israel in May of last year. With his booming laugh, hundred-watt smile, and standard attire fishing shirt, he touched down at Ben Gurion airport with a deep curiosity to connect to this storied place and its people. With deep reverence and respect, he didn’t look away from the most devastating, painful things and events. Together, with several of our close friends from Texas, he witnessed the Nova Music Festival site, the devastated kibbutzim, the evacuated north, and met with military and political leaders. But the moments that moved him most were those spent with everyday Israelis—the soldiers, the entrepreneurs, the citizens who are the lifeblood of Israel. I watched my friend change before my eyes. Dan Senor recently spoke about the state of world Jewry and one of his points stuck with me: that physically stepping onto Israeli soil—even for a short trip—can profoundly shape ones perspective about this special place, Jews and non-Jews alike. My friend Embry felt this firsthand. Throughout the trip, Embry’s light intensified. With every moment, Embry gained an even greater understanding that the danger of silence and complacency in the face of evil is complicity.
When Embry returned home here to Houston, his actions confirmed it: touching the soil of the Holy Land had transformed him in a way no news article or secondhand account ever could. He gave of himself to a place and people that profoundly moved him. This courageous man of deep conviction led with his actions. He began to invest heavily in Israeli startups, sponsor mission trips to Israel, and introduce his own network to those helping to rebuild Israel.
Andrew Fox, a writer I follow frequently, summed it up best recently: “We are not yet where Germany was in 1938. However, we are close to where we were in 1933.” In that era, many dismissed early warning signs until it was too late. Before long, the inconceivable was daily reality. Embry recognized the arc of history and the current status of the world. He took the uncomfortable and difficult path and did something to change the destiny unfolding before him.
The world needs more Embrys. We need more human beings willing to see with their own eyes, to listen with open hearts, and to stand up, even when it’s uncomfortable. We need Jews and non-Jews alike to invest, speak out, and commit themselves to this fight—not just for Israel, but for truth, for freedom, and for the values we hold dear. One could argue that the fight of the Jewish people in Israel is not the fight of an Episcopalian from Texas; I believe Embry would disagree. To him, the plight of Israel is a matter of human dignity and the arena wherein the right of a people to establish and defend their own existence is at stake.
There are legacies that cannot be dimmed by death, bonds that cannot be shattered though attacked or assaulted. Embry was a man of many strengths, allegiances, and loves, and his support of the Jewish people, of people like me and my wife and my children, was real, meaningful, and came at our most desperate hour. His legacy aided and furthered that of my own. Such devotion is worthy of tribute. And, I pray, imitation.
Our last conversation was late on the night before his passing. He texted a close friend of mine and me, asking how to contribute to Soroka Hospital in Be’er Sheva which had just been attacked that day. That was Embry. He was relentless in his support for the people of Israel.
I am grateful for Embry and I will miss my friend. I hope and pray that his life and actions will stand out above the grief and continue to be a witness and inspiration for all those who choose to stand bravely for Israel and a people who must fight to remain united for all times.
Embry my friend, may your memory be a blessing and may your voice be heard among the angels of peace.
For those who would like to read Embry’s obituary, you can find it here.
