A model of King Herod I’s renovated version of the Second Temple in Jerusalem. (photo from Ariely via Wikimedia Commons)
Between 19 BCE and 4 BCE, King Herod I renovated the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem, enlarging and beautifying it. It is during this same period that we first learn of the Jewish pilgrimages to Jerusalem on what are known as the shalosh regalim, the three pilgrimage festivals.
All of the festivals – Passover, Shavuot and Sukkot – centre around the story of the Exodus in some way. But Passover is the first and foremost of the bunch.
Jerusalem always held a special place in the hearts of the Jewish people, but as the Romans built roads and as Herod expanded the Temple, the pilgrimage to Jerusalem became commonplace and served as a message of unity – “one Temple, one God, one Passover” – for all Jews, said Prof. Jonathan Klawans of Boston University’s department of religion.
Yet, detailed writings about what the pilgrimage festivals may have looked like during Temple times don’t exist. According to talmudic scholar Dr. Joshua Kulp, author of Schechter Haggadah: Art, History and Commentary, most knowledge on the subject comes from the works of the ancient historian Josephus. While later writings (such as the New Testament) describe what it was like in Jerusalem during the Second Temple era, those works were written at a much later time and some scholars doubt their accuracy.
It isn’t known where people stayed or slept when they were in Jerusalem, or how many people showed up (though most assume a large number), or what people felt at that time. What is known, Klawans explained, is that the pilgrimages were a social experience that pulled the Jewish people together.
It’s also clear that, for Passover, pilgrimage participants ate in Jerusalem as family units. A representative from each family would take an animal, bring it up to the Temple, and have it slaughtered. Then, the representative would bring the animal back, and the family would cook and eat the sacrificial meat. During this festive meal, families also drank wine, but not a specific number of glasses. They sang songs – specifically, the Hallel prayers, which is also part of the modern Passover seder.
Her name was Rachel, his was Nathan. And even though separated by two bar stools, they struggled through 20 minutes of awkward conversation before their last names were spoken. Greenberg went with Rachel; Cohen with Nathan.
“Hey, you must be Jewish,” blurted out Nathan, a lonely bachelor whose only other date was Channel 15 on a cold, rainy night in April.
“I bet you’re Jewish, too,”she responded.
Well, things were looking up. Nathan now sat beside her and she responded with a smile at his aggressive move. He’s Jewish, no stranger, she thought.
“What a night for two Jewish buckaroos to be sitting in a western bar in the middle of Manhattan,” said Rachel. “It’s the first night of Passover, you know.”
“Yeah. I’m afraid I’ve neglected ‘my heritage,’ as my father puts it. He lives here in the city – only a few blocks down 57th. My family has a seder every year. They sit around the table – sing childish songs – stuff themselves on a five-course meal and wait for Elijah, the heavenly visitor to drop by. I go to a bar. Usually the one over on 52nd and 8th. This year, my mood took me here. Don’t know why. It’s a heck of a coincidence that I’m sitting next to you.”
“Well, I’m alone in the city. My family is back home in Louisville, Kentucky. Like yours, about now they’re sitting down to a huge meal with a week’s supply of calories and cholesterol. Kosher, but still deadly. And I’m sure they’re singing silly songs, as you put it. Wish I was there.”
“How seriously do they play out the Elijah game? You know the legend. His visit to every Jewish home on seder night. I remember my old man. He’d put down his wine glass, get all serious and open the front door. ‘Hey Pop,’ the 8-year-old who was then me, would shout, ‘If Elijah can pop up at 10 million Jewish homes in a single night, he can get through that wood-paneled front door without your help. A decent burglar can do it in a few minutes. Why not challenge the prophet?’ My old man hated it.”
An old gentleman at the end of the bar looked up with a pained expression.
“I guess so,” remarked Rachel. “Sure I know the Elijah story – our rabbi calls it a midrash – a rabbinic parable – which elevates it a level or two above a legend. It’s one of those unifying articles of faith that every Jew – even the lost ones – enjoys believing. A sweet story, you know. In fact, my rabbi believes that besides visiting many millions of seders on the first night of Pesach, he’s there – on Passover night – wherever two or more Jews are together.”
She had been a little loud. She noticed the old gentleman at the end of the bar had looked up from his drink, a dark purple wine in an ornate silver wine glass. Wonder what they called that drink? Wonder if you got to keep the glass?
Nathan, his arms folded loosely across his chest, had fixed his eyes on her as she talked. She’s got some spirit, he reflected. How his father’s eyes would gleam with passion to hear her declarations of faith.
Rachel brushed her hair back from her face. “Sorry, I got a little carried away – didn’t mean to preach to you. Let’s talk about something else.”
“No, no, I understand. That first night of Pesach is magic, my old man used to say. Makes you remember who you are. Every Jew, he used to say, had a progenitor – an ancestor – in his direct line who walked dry shod on the bed of the Red Sea. If he had perished under Egyptian whips or drowned beneath the waves, I, for example, wouldn’t be sitting at this glitzy bar in 21st-century America talking to a young Jewish lady who believes in a resuscitated prophet who makes a million house calls on one spring night.”
“You know what?” she said suddenly. “I’d love to go to a seder tonight. And there’s no lamb shank, charoset, parsley or bitter herb at your place or mine – but there is at your father’s place. Why don’t we surprise him? We’ll be just in time to greet Elijah.”
Nathan blinked, and nodded. With her, he had a chance. So, linking his arm in hers, he set out on the longest journey any man can undertake. A journey home.
And, at the end of the bar, the dignified but poorly dressed patron held up his wine goblet. “There are no coincidences,” he whispered to the goblet. He glanced hurriedly at his watch and left. He had many calls to make.
Ted Roberts is a freelance writer and humorist living in Huntsville, Ala.
The illustration on this year’s Passover cover, “Miriam Dances,” was created by artist Carol Racklin-Siegel for the book Let My People Go (EKS Publishing, 2011). In this hand-painted silk art, Racklin-Siegel depicts the joy of Miriam the Prophetess leading the women in song and dance after reaching dry land: “Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took her drum in her hand and all the women went forth after her with drums and with dances.” (Exodus 15:20)
Racklin-Siegel is an award-winning textile artist and illustrator focusing on custom hand-painted textiles, Judaic textiles, paintings and illustrations. She expresses the spirituality of Judaism by incorporating her textile designs and fabric painting techniques to Judaic and biblical themes. She has illustrated a series of books for children, based on the stories in Genesis, for EKS Publishing Co. in Oakland, Calif. She resides with her family in Israel. Her work can be viewed at pomegranatestudios.com.
Daffodils herald the springtime – and the approach of Passover. (photo from commons.wikimedia.org)
I had not seen him check into the inn. And I did not see him that night as we travelers exchanged vodka toasts to Pesach – only 10 days away. But here he was this morning, awaiting the same coach that would take me to my daughter’s seder table. I like to get there early and remind her that her papa – who gave her life, in
cooperation with her mama – loves being in her home, made gefilte fish and is more than willing to evaluate her Pesach culinary efforts.
Anyhow, awaiting the carriage, we clustered together – exulting in a glorious spring day under the giant willow that shaded the station showing off her spring-new leaves as though she was competing with her neighbor, an old, mottled-bark sycamore. Aged, but still capable of spring whimsy. She seemed even showier when the newcomer leaned against her and I could swear the light green of her new leaves gleamed even greener by contrast.
The mysterious stranger glanced at me. I checked him out, too. A stern face, whose only laughter was in his eyes. He was dressed like the rest of us, except he had a jonquil in his lapel. We seated ourselves opposite each other in the coach.
He was the first to speak. “How do you do?” he said, “My name, I’m sure you know, is Elijah. And, I’m sure you know, I’m beginning my Passover planning.”
I involuntarily rose from my seat like I was sitting on a hot, pot-bellied stove and banged my head on the top of the coach. Elijah, Grand Master of the Prophetic Fraternity, sitting with an undistinguished shtetle Jew – me!
“Can you imagine,” he said, “I visit every seder from Chicago to Katmandu. Roughly,” he continued, “we’re talking millions of homes. And on the same night. The same night,” he repeated. “And nobody says, ‘Ellie (that’s what my friends upstairs call me), good job! Great job, Ellie.’ They’re all too busy being impressed with that watery miracle. They’ve talked for 3,300 years now about a breeze that allowed you Israelites to wade across the Red Sea. And they think it’s a miracle that the Master caused a bunch of birds to fall out of the sky to feed you guys. I’ve tasted ’em. Oily, tough, need a ton of spices to get ’em down. Big deal! And that manna. Ever tasted it? Like raw oatmeal. And me? The showpiece of Pesach? I’m hustling to a few million seders. And you think I can drop in – say hello and run next door? No way. I gotta have a shot of wine – a few million sips of wine. You wouldn’t believe my headache the next day.”
I listened. Shocked. Even the Prophetic Master, semi-human/ semi-angel, had the ego of our coach driver, who prided himself in making the run to Minsk in under six hours.
But Elijah wasn’t through. “And that’s not all. Unknown to a cold and frigid world, there’s a precious little secret that only the angels know. On Pesach – if the year has been a sweet one wherein mankind has controlled his hybrid heart – I beckon to springtime, which is waiting in the wings of winter for my call. It’s the great gift the Master has bestowed upon me. It’s my dividend, as you say down here, for my Pesach duties. I call, and nature, everywhere, listens. Springs into action. (I never could resist a good pun.) Timing? It depends on those 36 Tzadiks – God’s spies we call them – who roam the world and annually report. Mankind behaving? Following Torah? I beckon – spring does her thing. It all hangs on human behavior. Sometimes the earth is only gilded with a pale reflection of a bountiful spring.”
He stopped, turned his head to stare at the passing parade of dreary woodlands and grey vales and brown meadows. But I could see red and yellow tulips dancing in his eyes.
By the time I reached Minsk and burst into a living room full of expectantly waiting kids and grandkids – over their hugs and kisses, I could see the daffodils blooming through the living room windows. We must have behaved.
Ted Roberts is a freelance writer and humorist living in Huntsville, Ala.
The cover of the new Haggadah, with one of its authors, Rabbi Adam Scheier. (photo from cjnews.com)
A new Haggadah in Hebrew, English and French has been created by Canadians for Canadians and celebrates the Jewish experience in this country.
The Canadian Haggadah Canadienne, compiled and edited by Rabbi Adam Scheier and Richard Marceau, has been published by Montreal’s Congregation Shaar Hashomayim. The authors of the Passover text describe it as the first of its kind, and one overdue for a Jewish community that is not only one of the largest in the world, but has a distinct identity.
All text is equally reproduced in the three languages, but what really makes this book stand out are dozens of historic photos of Canadian Jewish life from the early 20th century culled from the Canadian Jewish Congress Archives and other community archives, including those of the Canadian Jewish News.
The book also includes commentaries from 20 rabbis (and one maharat, the title for ordained female clergy in modern Orthodoxy) from across the country and the denominational spectrum.
The text is traditional, said Scheier, but it’s one he believes is familiar to almost everyone and may be used in full or abbreviated. The language is close to gender neutral.
One small addition is a prayer for Canada, alongside one for the state of Israel: “May the Merciful One bless Canada and its government, and grant fellowship and freedom to all of its inhabitants.”
Marceau and Scheier, who are friends and colleagues in community work, labored on the Haggadah for about five years, in their spare time away from busy professional and family lives. They both enjoy having diverse guests at their seder tables – anglophones and francophones – and felt the lack of a bilingual Passover text. Extemporaneous translation or using two versions proved to be awkward.
They may seem like an odd pair to produce such a proudly Canadian work. Scheier, Shaar Hashomayim’s spiritual leader, is a Rochester, N.Y., native, a fourth-generation American, who came to Canada 11 years ago.
Marceau is general counsel and senior government adviser to the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs, based in Ottawa. He is a convert to Judaism, a francophone from Quebec City who was a Bloc Québécois MP from 1997 to 2006. He recounted his journey to Judaism in the 2011 memoir Juif: Une histoire québécoise, which was later translated into English.
“When I came to Montreal, I was struck by the sense of pride Jews had in this country and their history in it,” said Scheier, who notes his wife Abby is Canadian and that they have “produced four Canadian citizens,” to whom he dedicates the Haggadah.
The completion of the project is bittersweet for Marceau. He dedicates the book to his late wife, Lori Beckerman, who passed away without seeing it published, and their two children.
Marceau attended his first seder in 1992 with Toronto native Beckerman’s family and friends. It was his introduction to Jewish ritual, which was totally strange to him, but it was made even more baffling because his English was not strong at the time.
“It was quite a culture shock,” he recalled.
They were married two years later, and Marceau converted in 2004. “Lori was very supportive of the [Haggadah] project. Although she was an anglophone from Toronto, she became fully bilingual, worked in French as a lawyer in Ottawa, and loved the duality of our home and the friends we invited around our table,” he said.
Both editors emphasized that the project would not have been possible without the help of many people, be it with research, proofreading, donations or advice.
“From the outset, we only encountered excitement about this project,” Scheier said. “People really responded to the idea.”
That input helped them find and select an eclectic mix of pictures, some familiar, but many rarely seen today. Some examples are the first religious service held by a Jewish farming colony in Lipton, Sask., in 1906; Philip Adelberg, the first justice of the peace in British Columbia’s Peace River district, taken in 1915; the Cornerbrook, Nfld., synagogue in the 1940s; the founding of Ecole Maïmonide in Montreal in the 1960s by the Sephardi community, the first French-language Jewish school in Montreal; and demonstrations for Soviet Jewry in the 1970s.
Marceau said he and Scheier felt it was important to highlight the relationship between Canada and Israel over the years. There are shots of visiting Israeli leaders from David Ben-Gurion to Shimon Peres in 2012, as well as then prime ministers Menachem Begin and Pierre Trudeau together in 1978. The relationship is represented in the other direction as well, such as an Inuit delegation’s visit to the Jewish state.
The Canadian Haggadah Canadienne, which weighs in at 168 pages, is tablet size in order to make it easy to use at the seder table. “It’s not supposed to be a coffee table book,” said Marceau.
It is being sold on amazon.ca and at synagogues and Jewish bookstores for $20. Any proceeds will go to charity – split 50-50 between Scheier’s and Marceau’s choices.
– For more national Jewish news, visit cjnews.com.
Every year, 15 out of every 100,000 Canadians is diagnosed with inflammatory bowel disease (IBD). More concerning are the statistics for Ashkenazi Jews, one of the more at-risk populations for the disease.
IBD is a group of inflammatory conditions that affect the gastrointestinal tract, or the gut, explained Dr. Charles Bernstein, a gastroenterologist working at Winnipeg’s Health Science Centre (HSC) and the University of Manitoba (U of M).
Speaking at the Victoria Inn in Winnipeg at a gala to raise funds for Crohn’s and colitis research, he said, “They’re associated with symptoms of abdominal pain, diarrhea, sometimes weight loss, rectal bleeding … and they’re quite common in young people. The peak age of incidents is in the 20s for Crohn’s, although it can actually present at any age.”
According to Bernstein, these diseases often mean a high burden, especially when they present in teens or young adults. “With ulcerative colitis, there is a rise in the 20s, but [the rate] plateaus. And the incidences are quite similar with every decade of life. And, since there isn’t a high mortality rate associated with the diseases, people carry these diseases throughout their life.”
Although the cause for the conditions remain mostly unknown, the doctor said research has moved forward considerably in the last decade and a half, at least in so far as understanding some of the contributing factors. Research has primarily focused on developing better “Band-Aid” solutions, such as ways to control the body’s response with anti-inflammatory and immunosuppressant drugs. “This, in a sense, allows us to put the genie back in the bottle,” said Bernstein. “In Crohn’s disease, we don’t know what’s causing the act of inflammation, so we don’t have a specific treatment. So, it’s different than taking penicillin for infectious [bacterial] pneumonia. We know we are taking the antibiotic to treat a specific thing and the pneumonia goes away.”
These diseases are more prevalent in Ashkenazi Jews, though they are by no means the only ethnic group affected. For several years, the focus has been on the genetic components to these diseases. Today, however, there is a more research into possible environmental factors, Bernstein said, and these deserve more attention.
“Indians from India are quite unlikely to get these diseases,” he said, by way of example. “Although these diseases are [now] emerging in India, the rates are substantially lower than in a country like Canada. But, when Indians move to Canada, like they do in B.C. in large numbers, they may not, as adults, get IBD while living in B.C., but their children seem to be at a comparable risk as white kids growing up in B.C. It’s an important area of investigation right now, trying to understand what these environmental factors are that drive these diseases to emerge.”
Diet is one area for research. “There’s a great interest in diet and what it is about the diet in the Western world, in particular in Canada, that may impact bugs present in our bowel and the response to them. Also, smokers are more likely to get Crohn’s than non-smokers, but we don’t understand what it is about smoking that impacts the development of the disease.”
The genetic “cure” has proved elusive as yet, even with a great deal of research in that area. “Because of all the work that’s gone into genetic work, we understand that probably most of the genes are associated with Crohn’s. But, we’ve not been able to find some gene switch to treat and, therefore, turn off the disease.”
According to Bernstein, the rate of IBD among Ashkenazi Jews is higher in Canada than Ashkenazi Jews in Israel, which, he posits may be due to the very different environment and, to some extent, different dietary patterns of Ashkenazi Jews living in Israel versus those living in Canada.
“Ashkenazi Jews have the machinery to … develop IBD when confronted with whatever the environmental triggers are, but my suspicion is that the environmental triggers are higher in North America than they are elsewhere.”
“With a rate of approximately 250 cases per 100,000 in the population at any one time, and while the rates in B.C. are slightly lower than elsewhere in Canada, the rates are as high in Canada as anywhere in the world. And the prevalence rates of these diseases amount to about 240,000 Canadians with Crohn’s disease or ulcerative colitis – probably 140,000 have Crohn’s disease and 100,000 have ulcerative colitis.”
The burden to sufferers of IBD is when they are experiencing symptoms that interfere with their work, sports or social life, their quality of life.
“We can get 95 percent of people’s symptoms controlled, so it doesn’t have to have a big impact on their life,” said Bernstein. “There are a small percentage of people with chronic, grumbling symptoms that we can’t control.”
These conditions contribute a significant cost to society, as well, when IBD sufferers are either missing work or are going to work but are not able to function to their full potential. There are also direct costs for managing these diseases via providing doctors, nursing services, medication, hospital coverage, etc.
“For some of the drugs, we use a category called ‘biologicals’ or the antibodies of TNF [tumor necrosis factors],” said Bernstein. “They can cost 30- to 35,000 dollars per year.
“Our centre in Winnipeg has been among the leaders in exploring not just the burden of the disease, but also the psychosocial factors that impact the disease – understanding how stress, anxiety and depression impact the disease and vice versa.”
Dr. Brian Bressler a gastroenterologist at St. Paul’s Hospital in Vancouver, echoes Bernstein’s concern about being too focused on the genetic component of the disease.
IBD issues become problematic when one’s immune system is inappropriately activated and causing damage and inflammation in the bowels, Bressler explained in an interview. “Many genes have been identified as putting people at an increased risk of having these problems and there are environmental influences in the world that, when exposed, can increase one’s risk of their immune system not working properly,” he said. “This doesn’t mean that if you have the gene defects you’re going to get it. It’s more likely than not that you won’t get IBD, which is why we don’t tell people routinely to get checked just because they have the genes.
“The highest risk is having a sibling who has Crohn’s or ulcerative colitis, but even if you have a sibling it’s still likely you’re not going to get it.”
When it comes to getting IBD under control, Bressler said that controlling inappropriate immune system response is key, as this leads to inflammation and to potentially serious bowel damage.
To date, there is no cure, but the focus is on ensuring that the disease is as controlled as possible. “In general, patients present with symptoms and not feeling well because of a multitude of problems,” said the doctor. “While some are able to control symptoms by changing their diet, there’s no diet that has been proven to be effective in managing IBD.”
It is important to try to make adjustments to diet and lifestyle, however. “Sometimes, patients don’t have any symptoms, but they are still having their immune system causing damage. This can lead to permanent problems in the bowel.”
Another option for some cases is surgery. There are four types of surgical procedures used to treat the symptoms of Crohn’s, for example, depending on the specific complication, the location in the GI tract and the severity of the symptoms. Surgical approaches include re-section, colectomy, proctocolectomy and strictureplasty. There is a light on the horizon for future IBD treatment, however. “Newer medical therapies are a little more sophisticated,” Bressler said. “They are a little more specific in targeting certain problems driving the inappropriate immune response. An older therapy, like prednisone [a steroid], is more [about] global control of the immune system. This is sometimes necessary and many times works, but does have a lot of side effects and long-term complications. There are newer therapies that can treat the inappropriate immune response, without leading to so many side effects.”
The author in 1974 at a tree planting event organized by her father in England. (photo from Shula Klinger)
It all began with my great-grandfather, Simon Picker. In the early 20th century, the timber industry in Bukowina was booming. Before the First World War and the collapse of the Habsburg Empire, my great-grandfather supported his family by working as a carpenter. According to his gravestone, he was “an honest man who enjoyed only the fruit of his toil.”
My father was always passionate about trees. He referred to Japanese maples by the Latin name acer palmatum, and took great delight in planting trees in our backyard. Acacia, eucalyptus, willow. He loved to visit Kew Gardens and told me how he’d planted trees in Israel, in the early days of independence. When my grandfather died at our home in 1969, my father planted a magnolia tree on the spot where he fell and, although the house has gone, the tree is still there today.
When my father came to England, one of his first businesses was in public relations. For a time, he held a contract for the Forestry Commission, which was when he also started a charity called Trees for People (TFP). TFP provided trees and equipment to schools, so that children could get their hands dirty and learn what it meant to be guardians of the environment.
After he died, I realized that I did not know what had become of TFP. My father had talked about passing on the fund to a group in England, but I wasn’t sure how that had panned out.
Then, when I was clearing out his personal effects just a few weeks ago, I learned what happened. In 2005, he donated all of the remaining TFP funds to the Woodland Trust in the United Kingdom. The trust’s goal is to recreate native woodland with the help of local schools and communities. It aims to protect surviving woodland, restore areas that are damaged and advocate for those that are currently under threat.
The trust put the TFP legacy to work immediately, using it to develop a new project in southeastern England, the Fordham Hall Estate. According to Liz McLelland, woodland creation project officer for the Woodland Trust, this is “an amazing 505-acre piece of land near Colchester in Essex. It is now a beautiful landscape of woods, meadows and riverside habitat.”
As well as transforming the environment, the fund has supported the development of a new outdoor curriculum for local children, providing hundreds of children with opportunities to plant trees and be inspired by nature, McLelland said. Furthermore, it has promoted their understanding of their role, as stewards of the environment. “This type of event is now a core part of our activity whenever we buy land on which to create native woodland.”
Needless to say, I am also a tree lover. I live with my family on the North Shore, close to the forests of Lynn Canyon, where our back yard is overshadowed by giant evergreens. Last year, my husband built me a vegetable box. Our children and I planted seeds in it and waited eagerly to see what we could harvest, but before the seedlings were more than a few inches tall, I got the call.
My father died on July 2, 2014, in Cambridge, England. We traveled there for his funeral and came back at the end of the month to an overgrown tangle of leaves the size of tea trays. Benjamin, 7, took on the job of harvester, leaping into the hip-high plants to pull out a foot-long zucchini.
And now it is spring again. Last week, I cut open an apple and found that one of the seeds had already germinated inside the fruit. The children were overjoyed to see the tiny sprout, and insisted that we plant it. We check on it every day, and Joel, 4, loves to water it with his “squirty bottle.” Today, we’re going to plant Canterbury Bells, peas, pumpkins, tomatoes and carrots. And then we will walk in the forest, appreciating the giant, protective limbs of the trees and the aromatic, warm earth, as it nurtures the growth of a another new generation of plants.
Shula Klinger is a freelance writer living in North Vancouver.