September 2017

Sumekh swipes out hunger

Rachel Sumekh is one of five speakers who will participate in FEDtalks Sept. 13. (photo from Rachel Sumekh)

University students with meal plans often end a semester or term with a surplus on their cafeteria swipe card. Whether because they skip a few breakfasts, go on vacation or eat in a restaurant the occasional night, some of the meals they pay for go unpurchased. In most instances, students are not reimbursed for uneaten meals.

When Rachel Sumekh was studying history at the University of California Los Angeles in 2010, she and some friends went to the cafeteria, stocked up on to-go food using the amounts remaining on their swipe cards and handed it out to hungry people on the streets of the city.

The dining provider didn’t like the gesture of goodwill, as it created an unanticipated run on to-go food. Sumekh talked it out with the administrators and created the pilot project for Swipe Out Hunger, an initiative that is now on 32 American college campuses, helping feed hungry people across the country. Sumekh will talk about the project here on Sept.13 at FEDtalks, the opening event of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver’s annual campaign.

The original idea, she admits, came from her friend Bryan Pezeshki, but he was busy continuing his studies – he’s now a doctor – and so Sumekh and a few friends carried it on as a side gig, meeting on Sundays and creating Swipe Out Hunger. In 2013, they decided to see what would happen if a full-time staff person were devoted to the project and Sumekh took on the job.

In such a venture, the humanitarian impulses of dining providers compete with their bottom line – unused amounts on meal cards means lower operating costs for them. So, in getting suppliers on board, Swipe Out Hunger organizers emphasize doing the right thing, while also implying there might be bad publicity if campus media discover food providers’ reluctance to participate in a program that fights hunger. Nonetheless, it is a challenge. Sumekh said students from about 300 different campuses have approached Swipe Out Hunger to start their own chapters, yet only about 10% of those have been successfully launched.

“So, it comes down to how difficult it is for universities to actually agree to implement this,” she said.

Originally focused on feeding hungry people in the communities around campus, Swipe Out Hunger has transitioned to focus mostly on addressing the hunger of students on campus.

Ironically, the problem of student hunger is exacerbated by an increasing accessibility of post-secondary education, she said. Financial aid and need-based scholarships are making it easier for young people from lower socioeconomic backgrounds to attend college. But, once there, they confront the realities of student life without money.

Educational institutions are giving financial aid, even full tuition in some cases, Sumekh said, but the students still have no money. “So who’s going to pay for their housing or their meals or their books or their transportation and all the other stuff?” She estimates that 75% of those benefitting from Swipe Out Hunger now are college students.

Sumekh says hunger leads to increased absenteeism, poor grades and dropping out. She pointed to a Canadian study that suggests 39% of Canadian college students cannot afford balanced meals and fear not having enough food at all. Almost half of the more than 4,000 students who participated in the study said they chose books, tuition and rent over healthy meals, one-quarter said the lack of good food affected their physical health and one in five said their mental health was affected. While there are no Swipe Out Hunger chapters in Canada yet, a similar program, Meal Exchange, exists here.

Universities are slowly coming to the awareness that their students’ well-being depends on healthy, sufficient diets, among all the other factors, Sumekh said. This is evidenced by the shift her organization has seen in the type of people who are approaching Swipe Out Hunger.

“Previously, 100% of the interest in our program was from students,” she said. “Now, over 50% of our interest is coming directly from administrators.… Universities are finally recognizing that they have students on their own campus who are going hungry and they have to do something about it.”

There has been a stigma around colleges acknowledging hunger among their students, she added, but this is diminishing in the face of recognition of the need.

Swipe Out Hunger also had a recent advocacy triumph. In June, thanks to pressure from Sumekh’s organization, the California state legislature and Governor Jerry Brown approved $7.5 million in funding to encourage colleges throughout the state to adopt a Swipe Out Hunger program, establish food pantries and hire staff to help students access nutritious food. So far, 1.3 million meals have been shared – and that number is likely to grow, as Swipe Out Hunger catches on in California and nationwide. Despite this success, Sumekh hopes her organization goes out of business.

“If there’s anything we believe, it’s that the old model of charity doesn’t work,” she said. “We don’t want to exist 20 years from now.”

Swipe Out Hunger is aiming for a systemic shift, where universities take it upon themselves to ensure that students’ needs are met, a universalization of an ad hoc program now on some campuses in which meals are provided to students in need.

While Swipe Out Hunger isn’t aimed specifically at Jewish students or any other cultural demographic, Sumekh credits both her Jewishness and assistance from the Jewish community for inspiring the initiative. The daughter of refugees from post-revolution Iran, Sumekh is excited to be sharing the stage at FEDtalks with Eric Fingerhut, chief executive officer of Hillel International, because she was involved with UCLA Hillel and got lots of support from the campus group when she was starting Swipe Out Hunger.

“When I was getting the program off the ground, I would go to Hillel and they would say, Rachel, whatever you need, tell us and we’ll make it happen,” she said. “It was an amazing way to see the Jewish community say, let’s just support this young Jew, even though what they’re doing isn’t just for Israel or just for Jewish people. If they’re doing something that’s living out our values, we should want to support that.”

For the full FEDtalks lineup and tickets, visit jewishvancouver.com/fedtalks2017.

Unity, not uniformity, Hillel’s goal

Eric Fingerhut, chief executive officer of Hillel International, will be part of FEDtalks on Sept. 13. (photo from Hillel International)

There are internal and external challenges facing the Jewish community, said Eric Fingerhut, and their solutions will come from the young people who are currently on college campuses.

The former U.S. congressman has served since 2013 as chief executive officer of Hillel: The Foundation for Jewish Campus Life and is one of five speakers at FEDtalks, the opening of the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver’s annual campaign, which takes place at the Chan Centre next week.

“The one place that the future of the Jewish community actually comes together in a relatively concentrated way for a relatively concentrated period of time is the college campus,” Fingerhut said in a telephone interview with the Jewish Independent. “The question that I want to address with the audience is, how can we use the opportunity of the college years to build a unified Jewish community – not a uniform Jewish community, but a unified Jewish community – that will enable the next generation to make their contribution to the long-term growth of Jewish life, Jewish learning and Israel?”

Finding unity among Jews, particularly around issues of religious and political expression, and in the face of anti-Israel activism that is prevalent on college campuses, is not easy, he acknowledged. Occasional reports emerge claiming that Jewish students are disengaging from the contentious debate around Israel and Palestine, but Fingerhut said confronting these issues is a matter of personal choice and disposition.

“There is no question that, on far too many campuses, there have been contentious debates – and sometimes worse than debates, sometimes really disturbing incidents involving anti-Israel and even antisemitic behaviour,” he said. “For some students, being engaged directly, encountering that kind of behaviour, is something that they feel comfortable doing, that they are inspired to do. But, for others, those kinds of situations are less comfortable and it’s not what they came to college to do. They have many other things on their plate. We don’t judge the level of commitment that a Jewish student has to the Jewish community and Israel by whether or not they show up at a counter-protest or a meeting about BDS. We encourage students to do that, but there are many, many ways for Jewish students to engage with Israel.”

Hillel, he noted, is the biggest recruiter for Birthright, Masa and other Israel experience programs. Hillel also coordinates Jewish Agency shlichim (emissaries) on 75 campuses, young Israelis who engage face-to-face with Jewish and non-Jewish students on North American campuses.

“We provide many, many ways to engage with Israel so that students can build a relationship with Israel, but not necessarily have to do that through being involved in the middle of some of these very ugly protests,” said Fingerhut.

Almost immediately after becoming CEO, Fingerhut was confronted with the development of the Open Hillel movement, a group that rejects Hillel International’s Standards of Partnership for Israel Activities, a policy that outlines the sort of groups with which Hillel will partner. Fingerhut took a firm line and he maintains it.

“Every student, regardless of their opinions or the issues they want to discuss, is welcome,” he said. “Every conversation is welcome. But, as an organization, we are Zionists. We are seeking to support Israel as our Jewish, democratic state. So, while that would certainly involve debate and discussion … it also means that we will not work with organizations whose mission is to hurt the state of Israel, who are trying to undermine the state of Israel. Certainly, that describes organizations that promote BDS.… We’re not going to work with them and we’re not going to host speakers whose career and work have been about trying to undermine Israel and its role as the sovereign representative of the Jewish people. Those are our guidelines and there are some who would want us to change those and we respect them. They have a right to argue for change, to make their case for change. They are welcome as individuals at Hillel, as everybody else [is], even though they disagree with our policies. But we’re not going to change our policies.”

Geopolitics is not the only potentially divisive area for Hillel. Religion is another factor. Building a pluralistic campus community is hard work, he said.

“Hillel is totally committed to Jewish pluralism,” he said. “Hillel’s a place where you’ll see a Friday night service in one room where men and women are praying separately on either side of a mechitzah, the divider. You’ll see another room where men and women are praying together and a woman is leading the service wearing a tallit. You’ll see in another room where maybe a song leader with a guitar is singing and leading music in a different style. You’ll see another room where people are meditating or discussing the issues of the day because prayer isn’t their thing. There may even be a room where people are discussing why they’re not in any of the other rooms.… And then we all come together and we have dinner and we make Kiddush and we celebrate together as a community.”

Respecting this diversity places a unique responsibility on Hillel, he said, and it portends a better future.

“It’s a core value of ours,” he said. “And we believe that, if a student learns to live in a vibrant, pluralistic Jewish community, where we’re not trying to change each other but we treat each other with love and respect, that will hopefully influence how they lead communities as adults when they graduate and go out into the world.”

As the leader of an organization that is almost a century old, one of the things Fingerhut confronts is an outdated perception of what Hillel is.

“Perhaps the number one question I still get asked from folks who remember Hillel from their college days is, how many people go to Hillel?” he said. “That’s just not a question we ask anymore … because our job is to inspire Jewish life on a college campus, and we do that wherever students are. Certainly, some of the activities happen inside a building that is called Hillel. But Hillel is inspiring Jewish life and Jewish activity all across campus, engaging students where they are.”

For example, he said, students sometimes tell him they don’t go to Hillel, but prefer to spend Shabbat with friends in their apartment or dorm.

“And I smile because I know that that was a Hillel-sponsored program,” he said. “We knew that, if the only Shabbos dinner we offered on campus was coming to Hillel, that will attract a certain number of people. But some are going to say, that’s not the way I want to spend Friday nights, going to a large group dinner. So, we knew that, by getting one popular student in a dorm to invite their friends to a smaller group dinner in an apartment building or in a dorm, that would attract additional students.”

As the news doesn’t generally focus on the positive, what doesn’t make headlines are the numbers of Jewish students engaged in a vast range of activities and programs, Fingerhut said.

“People tend to hear the negative, the problems, the anti-Israel activities, the antisemitism,” he said. “They tend not to see the very vibrant Jewish life that exists on so many campuses.”

FEDtalks takes place on Sept. 13 at the Chan Centre. For tickets, visit jewishvancouver.com/fedtalks2017.

Newcomers settling in

From left to right: Rabbi Dan Moskovitz, Meha Qewas, the Hon. Jody Wilson-Raybould, Hesen Mostefa, Brenda Karp and two of the Mostefas’ children. (photo from Temple Sholom)

“I am not scared,” says Meha Qewas, sitting at her small dining table with her 1-year-old daughter on her lap. In front of us is a plate of knefa, a very rich, sweet cheese dish covered in syrup, together with huge tumblers of juice many times bigger than what I’m used to being offered. Meha clearly values hospitality. The only thing sweeter than the mid-morning “snack” is the ebullience and warmth that flows out of Meha and her husband Hesen Mostefa.

When she says she is fearless, Meha is talking about finding work in Vancouver. Despite the challenges, she is confident both in her new friends in the Vancouver Jewish community and in her own ability to master English and overcome whatever other obstacles she may meet. Her confidence is not groundless: Meha was the main force behind and organizer of getting her husband and three children first out of Syria, then out of Iraq, the country where they took refuge for five years. “I wanted my children out of there,” she says, recalling the sight of Syrian children and youth in Iraq taking up smoking and selling candy on the street to make income for their families in the packed, rat-infested refugee housing.

Hesen also has a remarkable story to tell. Trained as a surgeon in Syria, he volunteered in Iraq with Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders), which eventually hired him as a doctor. During the years they spent in Iraq, Hesen put in long days with MSF while Meha struggled to take care of the children, run a household and plan their flight from Iraq. Eventually, Meha succeeded in securing passage to Canada with the help of sponsors from Vancouver’s Temple Sholom.

Temple Sholom’s efforts to sponsor Syrian refugees started with a High Holidays sermon from Rabbi Dan Moskovitz about the refugees’ plight. Members of the shul immediately formed a committee of volunteers to bring in at least one family, and others, if possible.

Meetings with the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver and the Anglican Diocese followed (the diocese is a federally approved sponsor for refugees with which other groups can team). The committee learned about private sponsorship and began working through Mosaic, a local agency that serves newcomers and refugees, and were connected to the Mostefas. The process to bring them to Canada was started.

In December 2015, however, Canada pulled some immigration services out of Iraq and began working through Jordan. A letter that Moskovitz gave to Senator Mobina Jaffer about the Mostefa family and their situation apparently found its way to the prime minister, and services in Iraq were reinstated as a result.

“In the end, over 200 people from shul got involved,” Moskovitz said. “I met personally with anyone who expressed concern about whether bringing in the refugees was a good idea. Most got on board with the initiative and I’m happy to say that, now that they [the Mostefas] are here, everyone in the community is thrilled.”

The synagogue’s efforts did not end there. They have since brought in another family, Bawer Issa, Shinhat Ahmed and their newborn son. The Issa family was welcomed at a Shabbat service in the synagogue on Aug. 25 (it can be seen on YouTube). Bawer spoke movingly at that event, recounting how some people had asked him if he was surprised, as a Muslim, that he had been rescued by Jews.

“We were not surprised,” he told the congregation. “Growing up in Iraq, we were brainwashed at school every day to hate Israelis and Jews as our number one enemy. My Kurdish father always told us not to care what they said, not to believe it. He told us that Israel had been the first to send aid when Saddam Hussein bombed us with chemical weapons.” Citing Israel’s continued support for Kurdish self-rule, Bawer said that he had already known that Jews were their friends.

At the upcoming biennial meeting in Boston of the Central Conference of American Rabbis, the umbrella organization of the Reform movement, a resolution – that Moskovitz helped write – will call for the sponsorship of 36 more refugee families by Canadian congregations.

The wider Vancouver community is invited to welcome the Issa and Mostefa families on Sept. 10, at 11:30 a.m., at a reception at Temple Sholom that also marks the first day back of the synagogue’s Hebrew school. An RSVP is requested to 604-266-7190 or via templesholom.ca/get-know-new-canadians.

Matthew Gindin is a freelance journalist, writer and lecturer. He writes regularly for the Forward and All That Is Interesting, and has been published in Religion Dispatches, Situate Magazine, Tikkun and elsewhere. He can be found on Medium and Twitter.

Not a voice for peace

The American organization Jewish Voice for Peace claims as its mission the achievement of “a lasting peace for Palestinians and Jewish Israelis based on equality, human rights and freedom.”

As anyone living in 2017 knows, words are occasionally empty vessels, and can at times even express the opposite of what they appear to convey. JVP’s mission is an example.

The JVP website equivocates on whether a one-state or two-state solution is desirable for Israelis and Palestinians. “We support any solution that is consistent with the full rights of both Palestinians and Israeli Jews, whether one binational state, two states, or some other solution. It is up to Israelis and Palestinians to reach a mutually agreed upon solution,” it reads. But a new campaign by the organization is making waves – and showing JVP’s true aims.

The group is calling on young Jews to reject the offer of a free trip to Israel through Birthright. The campaign’s hashtag – #ReturnTheBirthright – underscores JVP’s nonchalance about Jewish self-determination.

Posters for the campaign ask: “How was your trip to Israel? The 5,149,742 Palestinian refugees are curious.”

We could split hairs about the number 5,149,742. Palestinian refugees are defined unlike any other refugees in the world. Thanks to the perpetual Palestinian statelessness created and maintained by the Arab world since 1947-48, and a United Nations definition that makes refugee status an inherited Palestinian birthright, the number of Palestinian “refugees” grows larger by the year.

Explaining the campaign, the group’s website says, “we must acknowledge that the modern state of Israel is predicated on the ongoing erasure of Palestinians. Taking a Birthright trip today means playing an active role in helping the state promote Jewish ‘return’ while rejecting the Palestinian right of return. It is not enough to accept this offer from the Israeli government and maintain a critical perspective while on the trip. We reject the offer of a free trip to a state that does not represent us, a trip that is only ‘free’ because it has been paid for by the dispossession of Palestinians. And, as we reject this, we commit to promoting the right to return of Palestinian refugees.… There are other ways for us to strengthen our Jewish identities, in community with those who share our values. Israel is not our Birthright.”

The campaign invites young Jews to sign a promise declaring: “We are Birthright-eligible Jews between the ages of 18 and 26. We pledge that we will not go on a Birthright trip because it is fundamentally unjust that we are given a free trip to Israel, while Palestinian refugees are barred from returning to their homes.”

There is a host of problems with JVP’s approach. Almost everyone acknowledges that a final agreement between Israelis and Palestinians will include some accommodation for Palestinian refugees. But even top Palestinian officials have acknowledged this is likely to be some sort of compensation or exchange, not a literal and complete right of return that would effectively eliminate Israel’s Jewish majority. By demanding precisely that – a complete and literal right of return for Palestinians, ignoring all the nuance, history, practicalities and implications of such a move – JVP is calling for an end to Israel, despite talk about wanting Israelis and Palestinians to reach a mutually agreed upon solution.

Moreover, if “a lasting peace for Palestinians and Jewish Israelis based on equality, human rights and freedom” is JVP’s genuine objective, they are going about it all wrong. The inevitable outcome of the right of return that is endorsed by JVP would be a Palestinian-majority region between the Jordan and the Mediterranean.

There is plenty to criticize in Israel’s approach to Palestinians, particularly by the current government. But, by polarizing the discussion, encouraging Palestinians to expect complete victory without compromise, groups like JVP make things worse, not better.

When both sides compromise and acknowledge that the other has rights, the potential for peaceful coexistence will emerge. Campaigns that deny the Jewish people’s right to sovereignty in their indigenous homeland do not advance a resolution to Palestinian statelessness; they prolong it.

In the meantime, as Jewish university students return to classes this month, we encourage them to travel to Israel, whether on Birthright or another program, and take the opportunity to open their eyes to the world, to look at it critically and refuse entreaties to bury their heads in the sand.

Trying to be gracious of spirit

My family recently came back from a trip to Alberta. My husband (a professor) helped run a conference at the University of Calgary. We took our twins and went on vacation, too. I won’t lie. I felt intimidated about managing a strange city on my own with two active 6-year-olds, but I planned like crazy. Due to some lucky breaks, it went well.

More than once, I was reassured by a comforting sense of community. The first day, we took the fancy mini-van (an unexpected rental car upgrade) and it began to ding. A tire was low. I worried. I warned my kids that we might have to stop – if I could find a gas station – and check the air on the tire. Before I’d managed that, we’d arrived at Heritage Park.

We were surprised to find the Montefiore Institute (original 1916 prairie synagogue) had been moved there. The living-history interpreter sang Yiddish folk songs to us. She’d been raised in Winnipeg, where I now live. However, the most comforting thing? The man next to me as we watched our children on the kiddy rides. He said the new car sensors were overly sensitive and that if I checked the tires, I might find nothing wrong. (We did. He was right.)

On the way out, I mistakenly turned down an (empty) one-way street. A woman yelled, “Wrong way! Wrong way!” and frightened us terribly. I apologized to her. I figured out the problem and turned around. She, too, was looking out for me.

Next day, we were at the zoo – enjoying the eclipse and how it made crescent-shaped shadows on the pavement – with my friend and her baby. We commiserated about how scary it is to be raising kids. We want to help them be strong in what is suddenly a more threatening environment for minorities. She also waited, smiling, while my kids and I recited a brachah (blessing) I’d found online over the wonder of seeing the eclipse. My friend is Muslim. Her parents were born in Jerusalem.

In Drumheller, at the Royal Tyrrell Museum, my kids had a blast until exhaustion hit. It was very hot. We dragged them out in mid-tantrum. In the parking lot, my husband handed the expensive tickets to another family to use. We ended up at a restaurant. Everything was better after eating in air conditioning. On the way out, I apologized to the senior citizens near us if we had disrupted their meal. They smiled graciously. One mentioned that everyone had been a kid once.

On our day trip to Banff, we wandered into a theatre. We were the only people attending a magnificent children’s show, filled with dancing animals and an amazing set done by artist Jason Carter. The performers said, “Be our guest!” It turned out we saw an $80 show for free.

Why am I telling you this? In recent issues of the Jewish Post & News, some have commented on a child who happened to go up on the bimah (pulpit) of a congregation during services. Some bemoaned how children are poorly behaved in “adult” restaurants and theatres, as well.

While I would be the first to ask children to try to behave and to suggest that synagogues develop good Jewish programming options for them, the thing is, a synagogue isn’t a theatre or a restaurant. A shul is a house of learning, community and prayer. Who should learn to pray in a loving community? Kids.

During my trip, I encountered embarrassing learning moments (“Wrong way!”) and moments of gracious compassion. (“We were all kids.”) I also consistently had my kids in public, in theatres and restaurants, where I worked awfully hard to make sure they behaved – and those around me were big enough to understand the challenges of the task.

I wasn’t sure what to write for this column. Late last night, I lay awake, near an open window. Noise kept me up. Adults were laughing and shouting on a nearby patio of an upscale restaurant as they drank. In warm weather, this happens several times a week. I was tempted to march out in my pajamas to tell them to be quiet so I could sleep but, instead, I tried to be more understanding. I didn’t call the cops.

To those who would say that this child disrupted them during services, I suggest to perhaps be a little more generous of spirit. Synagogue is about community. That means it’s not just about “me” and what I should get out of the experience. It’s about what we can offer each other – as we learn, pray and support each other. Sometimes, it’s challenging, embarrassing, hard or sad and, you know, that’s life. It’s not a fancy dinner with cocktails, or an expensive concert.

Rosh Hashanah is upon us. It’s time to evaluate how we can aim higher and do better next year. There are plenty of things for which I can atone, things I haven’t done well and want to do better. Meanwhile, I just heard from old friends (who went to Cornell University as undergrads with me) who live in Houston. They are OK. Their house is OK. But, in their brief email, they relayed such horrible stories about flooding and drowning all around them. They mentioned that they were trying to help those nearby who were less fortunate.

We’re so very lucky, I thought. That random community of helpers is so important, whether in Houston or Calgary or Winnipeg. It helped me through a big first vacation on my own in an unfamiliar city with kids. Those people lifted me up and helped me do it, despite the challenges. My friends survived a major hurricane, and they were going to help gut a friend’s flooded house. Upon reflection, I’d say, we can all be that “better person” and help out.

Next time a kid acts out? Smile. Meet the family. Ask if you can chase her down the aisle to give the parents a five-minute break. Heaven knows they need it.

Wishing you a sweet, happy, productive, meaningful 5778.

Joanne Seiff, a regular columnist for Winnipeg’s Jewish Post and News, is the author of a new book, From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016. This collection of essays is available for digital download, or as a paperback from Amazon. See more about her on joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

What does future hold?

Jewish community member mia amir is the dramaturg of Wypsa, which is at the Fringe Festival until Sept. 16.

While the plot of Wyspa may bring to mind William Golding’s Lord of the Flies, the book was not a direct inspiration for this work, co-writer and director Julia Siedlanowska told the Independent.

The creation of the play, which opened at the Vancouver Fringe Festival Sept. 7, began with the reading and discussion of an original story written by Siedlanowska and Kanon Hewitt.

“Our team includes five collaborators between the ages of 11 and 16,” said Siedlanowska. “They have all been involved directly in the creation of this piece through world-building, research, writing text, improvisation, creating soundscapes, costumes and props. They are all also performing in the piece.”

Siedlanowska and Kanon’s story “tells the tale of a walled-in community that has sustained itself through oil extraction for centuries,” Siedlanowska explained. “When fires start raging within the walls, the mothers of the community make the decision to send their children away through the only opening to the outside world – an opening to the ocean.

“After days of drifting, they finally arrive on an island. Here, they must decide whether they will live by the rigid rules of their old society or create their own.

“We separated the experience into three worlds,” she continued. “The home world, the world of the boat and the world of the island. From there, we collectively decided the specific circumstances of each of these, including what rules apply in the home world and the island world. The youth created their own characters and decided on each of their relationships to each other. Text and movement were all generated by the collaborators, with myself and Kanon making decisions about the show structure with the help of our dramaturg mia amir. There are some improvisational aspects – much of the show takes place within an improvised structure with scenes changing depending on the audience.”

The end result came from research of instances in which children were removed from their homes during the Second World War, said Siedlanowska, “including Japan after the Tokyo bombings and the Kindertransport of Jewish children in Europe, as well as the Sixties Scoop in Canada.

“One piece of literature that I did directly mention in the initial phases of brainstorming was the story of King Matt the First, written by Polish-Jewish playwright Janusz Korczak. Korczak ran an orphanage in Second World War Poland. He was a pedagogue, writer and children’s rights activist. The orphanage was called Our House, and the children living there published their own newspaper and held their own court when conflicts arose among them. King Matt the First was about a child who becomes king, and what might happen if children were rulers.”

However, the idea of the story first arose, she said, “from questions around the rise in domestic violence in Alberta as a result of the economic downturn and job loss in the oil and gas industry. This violence is predominantly towards women.

“This then led to questions around how raising youth within rigid gender identities might enforce these patterns of violence. Instead of writing what we think youth might have to say about these themes, we decided to ask directly. In relation to climate change, we also wanted to ask the question, how do we – as an adult audience – react to dialogue around the climate crisis when those who will inherit the planet stand directly in front of us?”

Wyspa is being presented as part of Generation Hot, a mentorship initiative of the Only Animal and the Fringe Festival, which presents the work of seven writer-directors between the ages of 17 and 24. This year’s program is called Waterborne. “Each participant has found a personal response to a chosen site on Granville Island and the theme of water,” explains the press release. “Two programs of these short works will run in rep during the 2017 Vancouver Fringe Festival…. Wyspa is paired with Citlali: A Fantastic Tale About Water by a Mexican Poet by Brenda Muñoz.”

Wyspa runs Sept. 8, 10, 13-14 and 16, 8 p.m., at Ron Basford Park on Granville Island. For tickets ($12) and the full Fringe schedule, visit vancouverfringe.com.

Volunteer to tutor students

Chabad Richmond is looking for seniors to teach English to Israelis. (photo from chabadrichmond.com)

Want to make a difference in the lives of Israeli teens? Consider Israel Connect, a volunteer program where Vancouver retirees engage via Zoom (it’s like Skype) with Israeli high school students who want to sharpen their English conversation and reading skills. The program, which starts after the High Holidays, is sponsored by Chabad Richmond.

“We are looking for retirees, seniors or adults with time available for volunteering. Volunteers do not have to be teachers, and the curriculum will be provided,” said Vancouver coordinator Shelley Civkin. “We’re looking for Jewish adults who are fluent English speakers, have basic computer skills and own a computer with a camera.” Volunteers can tutor from home – it will entail a half hour per week – and technical support will be available if needed. Volunteers will be trained in how to download and use Zoom.

“This is a meaningful way for community members to support Israel in a practical way,” said Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman of Chabad Richmond. “You’ll be doing a mitzvah, while investing in Israel and its young people.”

Time preferences of volunteers will be coordinated beforehand, but sessions will likely take place in the morning between 8 and 10 a.m. The Chabad Richmond Israel Connect program is asking for a one-year commitment from volunteers.

“English proficiency is crucial to Israeli students, since it accounts for a third of their entrance exam marks for university,” said Baitelman. “Partnering with the Israeli Ministry of Education, the Israel Connect program targets teens from the most disadvantaged neighbourhoods in Israel. The tutoring sessions are vital to students’ upward mobility in terms of education and jobs, which is why this program is so important.”

“Past volunteers really enjoyed helping their Israeli students, and made great connections with them. The students’ marks on their English exams prove that this kind of one-on-one tutoring makes a significant difference in their lives,” said Civkin.

For more information, contact Civkin at 604-732-6330 or civie1956@gmail.com.

Fighting for peace, or to win?

We need to redefine our “opponents.” In the news, it’s whites against blacks, Palestinians against Israelis. But we don’t have to accept these categories. In Pittsburgh, you can find black and white, Jewish and Arab Steelers fans united against the New England Patriots. (photo by Bernard Gagnon)

The past several weeks have been difficult, but also very easy. Difficult, because it feels like civilization could be spiraling into an irreversible Armageddon of hate, violence and destruction. Easy, because I feel like I know where I stand. I have moral clarity. The neo-Nazis marching down the streets yelling anti-black, antisemitic chants reminiscent of 1930s Nazi Germany are wrong. The people who counter-protest for equality, shouting that hate will not prevail – they’re right. They’re the good guys. The “bad guys” think they’re superior; they think it’s OK to disparage others because of their race or the colour of their skin. “We” believe in the dignity of every human being. Simple.

Until recently, when I had one of those moments of disconcerting humility. I saw a Facebook post of Trump Tower surrounded by big, white garbage bins. The caption read something like, “As usual, Trump surrounded by white trash.”

I am mortified to say that my initial reaction was to chuckle. The joke tickled the funny bone of my youth, growing up in small town New Jersey, where the “white trash” used to make fun of us and “we” would look down on them. But I felt horrible for my reaction, and was forced to ask myself, am I really so much different than those I am quick to blame?

I was similarly disturbed when I saw a video of counter-protesters in Charlottesville screaming at the white supremacists marching. They chanted, “You lost, we won. Go home!” Their argument being – our military defeat ended your right to be in public? Is that what we think? If so, when we “lost” and Donald Trump “won,” should we have conceded, packed it up and stayed home?

Of course not. Defeat makes us dig in our heels and fight back harder. When “we” do it, it’s right, but when “they” do it, they’re a bunch of cry-babies.

This summer, I had the tremendous privilege of participating in a four-day retreat with Pathways, a program sponsored by the American embassy that brings together Arab and Jewish English teachers in Israel to teach them “negotiating skills.” The program was powerful, intense, optimistic, and hopelessly depressing.

I was somewhat familiar with Pathways prior to the retreat because they’d done a workshop at my school with our 10th graders. Our students met with Arab kids from Nazareth, engaging in exercises that stretched their ability to think outside the box, and beyond themselves. They learned how to listen, cooperate and confront challenges with a variety of new and different tools.

One tiny example is when the students were paired to arm-wrestle. The challenge was for each kid to “bring the other’s hand to the table as many times as you can.” Intuitively, the kids begin to wrestle, but one clever boy said to his partner, wait, if we work together, letting each other win, we can both do much better than if we actually fight. The point being – you don’t have to lose in order for me to win. In fact, when we help each other, we both win more.

So, when, at our teachers’ retreat, we were divided in pairs and given the task to play a two-dimensional Connect Four game, I was prepared. Each of us was given a different set of instructions that we were not permitted to share with our opponent. This meant, of course, that we were playing by different rules. The challenge to both of us was to get “as many points as you can.”

My secret paper instructed me to get as many XOXO combinations as possible. I quickly figured out from his strategy that he was going for XXXX. Great. If we could have spoken and I could have explained to him the idea, we would have designed the board to maximize our mutual success. There was nothing that required us to get more points than the other person, only to maximize our own. However, we were not allowed to discuss, and my opponent was out to win. He didn’t understand that I had different rules. He thought he was clobbering me.

In our first round, I was happy to let him take his wins and I took mine. It looked to me like we were neck and neck. But, somewhere in the middle of the second round, his smug attitude was getting to me and I wanted not just to win, but to take him down. I started to block him, and I was scoring big, and he had no idea. It was fun.

When we got to the end and they revealed all the instructions and asked us to tally our points, we were both in for a surprise. It turned out that not only did we have a different set of rules, but I received more points per row than he did. The game was totally and illogically stacked in my favour. It would have been nearly impossible for him to win, even if he had all the information from the start.

It was an interesting exercise, but my partner didn’t really get it, not even after it was over. He protested that it was unfair – that I had all the advantages. And, while it was a game, I felt uncomfortable with this Arab person not understanding why I, the Israeli, had all the advantages and he never stood a chance. A little too close to home. And it was a bit depressing that my partner couldn’t understand that the whole point of the exercise was that it didn’t matter who had more points. It was never about winning and losing.

Sadly, it reminded me of another moment at the retreat, when I was seated by a different Arab man. He told me he lives in Abu Tor, a mixed Arab and Jewish neighbourhood on the border of East Jerusalem. Without thinking, I blurted out, “Hey! My best friend just moved to Abu Tor!” As the words came out of my mouth, I realized that many Arabs are not so happy that Jews are moving to Abu Tor. Indeed, he replied, “Yes, well, I’m sure her area is much nicer than mine because many more resources are invested in the Jewish section than where I live.”

I could have countered with the fact that most Jerusalem Arabs reject citizenship, or that they teach their children to hate us, but the truth is that I just wanted to cry. Because, basically, he was right. Why should he live in the same municipality as my friend and get inferior services? At the same time, why do I have to fear getting stabbed or blown up when I walk down the street? These two questions do not justify each other, they exacerbate each other.

With the “game” stacked unfairly on both sides, how are we supposed to learn to cooperate? We both wanted to; that’s why we were there. But we had to work extra hard to change the rules. And, if we couldn’t figure it out at a retreat where we were all there because we wanted to learn to live together, then what hope did we have out there, where everything is about who is right and who should go away.

From where do we get this need to win? When my kids were 6, 4 and 2, they had an amusing game. When we’d go from the house to the car or from the car to the house, the two older kids would race. They’d run howling and laughing, until they reached their destination, whereupon one would scream, “I win!” and the other would burst out crying. Then the little guy would come hauling up the back announcing proudly, “I lose! I’m the rotten egg!”

When do we go from the stage of enjoying the game and laughing simply because others are laughing, to needing to win and watch our opponents cry?

I’ve always hated competitive games. I happen to be pretty good at many of them and I come from a very competitive family, so I can easily get swept up in the challenge of winning. But I hate when I beat another person and it makes them sad. With my kids, it was often hard to balance the honesty and integrity of playing my best with the desire to see their pride when they win. Fortunately, today my kids can beat me at almost anything, but watching them try to clobber each other is painful.

Still, thanks to Pathways, I discovered an unexpected positive side to this not-always-pleasant phenomenon. When the Arab students came to our school, the kids from both schools were very nervous. What would they talk about? What would they do together? How would they get along with people who they had grown up to believe were their “enemy”?

In one of the first activities of the morning, they divided the kids into groups by table. Every table was mixed, with both Jews and Arabs. To start, they had to make a paper chain of things that everyone at the table had in common. They would write one thing on each piece of paper and attach them together, while everyone had one hand tied behind their back. The kids were laughing, joking, learning about each other and cooperating. By the end, each table felt a strong sense of solidarity. “Table 6 rules!” And “Table 3, we’re taking you down!” could be heard across the room. In less than an hour, having a longer chain than Table 3 had become much more important than who controlled the Temple Mount. It was beautiful. And scary – are we fighting about obstacles to peace, or are we locked in a cycle of violence because we can’t bear to lose?

So, how do we “win”? In Israel, we’ve tried with military might – if they see how much stronger we are, they might just admit defeat and back off. They’ve tried with terror – if we don’t feel safe walking our own streets, maybe we’ll give in, pack up and leave. But these strategies don’t seem to be working. Humans are not wired to accept defeat.

The problem is, as we learned in Charlottesville and as we see here in Israel every day, we can’t win by causing our opponents to lose. To win, we need to rethink the rules and reconsider our objectives.

We also need to redefine our “opponents.” In the news, it’s whites against blacks, Palestinians against Israelis. But we don’t have to accept these categories. In Pittsburgh, you can find black and white, Jewish and Arab Steelers fans united against the New England Patriots. And, at the supermarket, it’s everyone against the jerk in the express line with more than 10 items, who we all want to clobber, regardless of race or religion. And, sometimes, admit it, we’re the jerk in that line.

God knows that none of His children are perfect, but He loves us all just the same. If God is anything like me (and I was created in His image), what could possibly please Him more than if His children could create a new game – a game in which everybody wins?

So, as we enter the last part of Elul, a month of self-reflection, let’s try to shake up the rules – to question what we know and what we think we want. Let’s convert some of our anger into curiosity. Let’s turn a few of our screaming chants into invitations. Not because we’re wrong to be angry or to protest, but because, if we can find each other’s humanity, perhaps we can change the game entirely.

Emily Singer is a teacher, social worker and freelance writer. Singer and her husband, Ross, were rebbetzin and rabbi of Vancouver’s Shaarey Tefilah congregation until 2004. The Singers spent two years in Jerusalem and then moved to Baltimore, Md., where Ross was rabbi at Congregation Beth Tfiloh and Emily taught Judaic studies at Beth Tfiloh High School, until they moved to Israel in 2010. They have four children.

Atheism has a long history

The title of a book review in Biblical Archaeology Review caught my eye, “Ancient atheism.” I read, “A common assumption is that atheism – a lack of belief in gods and the supernatural – is a recent phenomenon, brought on by the advent of science during the Enlightenment.” I ordered the book immediately: Battling the Gods: Atheism in the Ancient World by Tim Whitmarsh (Alfred A. Knopf, 2015).

Bumbling, staggering, veering and lurching: these are the words that come to mind when I think of my path towards a Jewish identity. As the product of a secular household, my only contact with Judaism was my brother’s bar mitzvah and a yearly Passover seder at a family friend’s home. I was born in 1939, the beginning of the Second World War, yet the word “Holocaust” was never mentioned during my childhood or adolescence. The topic of God was not broached. The exception to the rule was that my brother and I were sent for seven summers to a Jewish camp in the Adirondacks, in New York state. There, we became familiar with Friday night services, which included singing Jewish songs and a few prayers in Hebrew.

Fast forward to 1970, after 12 years of marriage, the birth of four sons and a sincere attempt at keeping a kosher home (it lasted three years), creating Passover seders and Chanukah parties and the decision to prepare our sons for bar mitzvahs, my husband and I divorced.

I enrolled immediately in courses at Concordia University. English and French literature introduced me to the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament. This led to a bachelor’s in French literature, which was followed by many courses in a master’s program called The History and Philosophy of Religion.

My search was on. I was determined to find out what religiosity and devotion to God entailed. I studied Judaism (modern and medieval), Jewish mysticism, Christianity, Buddhism and Hinduism. I wrote scholarly papers on these subjects. Later, I would take up the study of Modern Hebrew at McGill University. Upon moving to Vancouver, I studied Biblical Hebrew for three years and enrolled in the Judaic studies program at the University of British Columbia. Jewish law, Jewish ethics, Proto-Hebrew, I loved it all; but I was no closer to feeling comfortable during the High Holiday services at any synagogue.

I tried Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist and Jewish Renewal congregations. I could not make that leap of faith required to pray to God. The secular humanist group had replaced Hebrew with Yiddish. I wanted my Hebrew! The result is that, every year, during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I felt uneasy, out-of-step and different.

I continued studying Modern Hebrew. I became editor of Jewish Seniors Alliance’s magazine, Senior Line. Studying, writing, volunteering and participating in the Jewish community were rewarding and gratifying activities, yet I felt like a second-class Jew. Was there something wrong with me?

Then along came Battling the Gods: Atheism in the Ancient World. As the May/June 2017 Biblical Archaeology Review notes, “In clear prose, Whitmarsh explores the history of atheism from its beginnings in ancient Greece in the eighth century BCE through the fourth century CE, when Christianity was adopted as the state religion of the Roman Empire. Whitmarsh says up-front that he is not interested in proselytizing atheism – but rather in studying its first thousand years. He argues that the history of atheism is an issue of human rights because denying the history of a tradition helps to delegitimize it and paint it as ‘faddish.’”

In reading this book, I came to understand, as Stephen Greenblatt is quoted on the back cover as saying, that “atheism is as old as belief. Skepticism did not slowly emerge from a fog of piety and credulity. It was there, fully formed and spoiling for a fight, in the bracing, combative air of ancient Athens.” And I agree with Susan Jacoby’s comments – also cited on the back cover – that it “is a pure delight to be introduced to people who questioned the supernatural long before modern science provided physical evidence to support the greatest insights of human reason.”

I devoured Battling the Gods, relishing the research and the historical insights. Homer’s epic poems of human striving, journeying and passion were ancient Greece’s only “sacred texts,” but no ancient Greek thought twice about questioning or mocking his stories of the gods. Whitmarsh states that “this book thus represents a kind of archaeology of religious skepticism.…This loss of consciousness of that classical heritage [the long history of atheism] is what has allowed the ‘modernist mythology’ to take root. It is only through profound ignorance of classical tradition that anyone ever believed that 18th-century Europeans were the first to battle the gods.”

Whitmarsh writes, “The Christianization of the Roman Empire put an end to serious philosophical atheism for over a millennium. The word itself, indeed, acquired an additional meaning, which was wholly negative: rather than the rational critique of theism as a whole, it came to mean simply the absence of belief in the Christian god.”

With Whitmarsh’s sentence, “The conclusion seems inevitable that the violent ‘othering’ as atheists of those who hold different religious views was overwhelmingly a Judeo-Christian creation,” my self-respect was restored. I now understand that I come from a longstanding tradition of atheists. My beliefs have history and credulity behind them. I will continue to study Hebrew, write, volunteer and participate in the Jewish community. In accepting my skepticism, I join the minds and hearts of the ancient Greek and Roman skeptics and atheists who came before me.

Dolores Luber, a retired psychotherapist and psychology teacher, is editor of Jewish Seniors Alliance’s Senior Line magazine and website (jsalliance.org). She blogs for yossilinks.com and writes movie reviews for the Isaac Waldman Jewish Public Library website.

שישה סרטים ישראלים בפסטיבל של טורונטו

“מונטנה” סרט הביכורים של הבימאית והתסריטאית לימור שמילה (שהייתה עד כה מלהקת מוכרת של סרטים). (צילום: tiff.net/tiff/montana)

ישראל נמצאת במקום מכובד בעולם מבחינת היצירה הקולנועית. זאת לאור העובדה שלא פחות משישה סרטים ישראלים ישתתפו השנה בפסטיבל הסרטים הבינלאומי של טורונטו, שחשב לשני בחשיבותו בעולם הקולנוע אחרי פסטיבל קאן. כידוע מדי שנה כוכבים ויוצרים רבים בתחום הקולנוע מגיעים לאירועי פסטיבל הסרטים של טורונטו.

להלן מידע בדבר שלושה מבין הסרטים הישראלים שיוקרנו בפסטיבל היוקרתי. במסגרת דיסקברי המשבצת המוקדשת ליוצרי העתיד של הקולנוע העולמי, שמומלץ לעקוב אחרי עבודתם, יוקרנו שני סרטים ישראלים. הראשון “מונטנה” סרט הביכורים של הבימאית והתסריטאית לימור שמילה (שהייתה עד כה מלהקת מוכרת של סרטים), שעוקבת אחרי צעירה החוזרת לבית ילדותה בעכו ממנו ברחה לאחר היעדרות ארוכה, לאור מות סבה. הצעירה מתאהבת במורה שהיא גם אמא, אותה היא פוגשת בזמן תקופת האבל ומתנהל קשר רומנטי אינטימי בין השתיים. כך גם מתגלה הסוד הקשה שגרם לצעירה לעזוב את עכו. “מונטנה” הוקרן כבר בפסטיבל הסרטים של חיפה. בסרט משתתפים בין היתר: נעה בירון, נטע שפיגלמן, חוה אורטמן ואבי מלכה. השני הוא “פיגומים” (קופרודוקציה ישראלית-פולנית) סרט הביכורים של הבימאי והתסריטאי מתן יאיר, שעוסק בקשר בין אב קשה ודומיננטי לבנו, תוך שהוא מצפה שהבן יחליף אותו בעבודתו על הפיגומים. הנער רואה חיים אחרים וטובים יותר לאחר שמגיע לבית הספר בו הוא לומד (בכיתה של תלמידים בעייתיים), מורה לספרות רגיש במיוחד לתלמידיו. “פיגומים” הוקרן כבר בהצלחה במסגרת הלא רשמית של פסטיבל קאן, וכן זכה בפרס התחרות הישראלית של פסטיבל הסרטים של ירושלים. בסרט משתתפים בין היתר: עמי סמולרצ’יק ואשר לקס.

במסגרת תצוגה מיוחדת יוקרן הסרט המדובר “פוקסטרוט” (קופרודוקציה ישראלית-גרמנית) של הבימאי והתסריטאי שמואל מעוז. הסרט עוסק בסיפורה של משפחה שנמצאת בקשר רחוק עם בנם החייל. האב בטעות גרם למותו של בנו למרות שלא התכוון לכך. הסרט יתחרה בפרס אריה הזהב של פסטיבל הקולנוע של ונציה. משתתפים בו בין היתר: ליאור אשכנזי, שרה אדלר ויונתן שיראי. מטבעה שרת החינוך, התרבות והספורט של ישראל, מירי רגב, ניצלה את ההזדמנות לבקר את הסרט במקום לתמוך ביוצריו, דבר המתבקש מתפקידה. רגב אמרה בין היתר את הדברים הבאים: “זוהי בושה וחרפה שהסרט “פוקסטרוט” של שמוליק מעוז ישתתף בפסטיבלי קולנוע נחשבים כפסטיבל טורונטו ופסטיבל ונציה. הדעת אינה סובלת, שסרטים המבאישים את שמו הטוב של צה”ל, הם אלו שנתמכים על ידי קרן הקולנוע הישראלי, הנתמכת על ידי המדינה, והם אלה שנבחרים להיות חלון הראווה של הקולנוע הישראלי בחו”ל”. בהקשר זה טענה רגב כי הסרט פוגע בשמו הטוב של צה”ל, בין היתר בשל סצנה הכלולה בו, כאשר קבוצת חיילים הנמצאת במחסום מפגינה אלימות קשה כלפי פלסטינים.

פסטיבל הסרטים של טורונטו נערך מדי שנה מאז 1976, במהלך חודש ספטמבר והוא נחשב לגדול בעולם. האירוע נמשך עשרה ימים ובמהלכו מוקרנים קרוב לארבע מאות סרטים. השנה יפתח הפסטיבל הארבעים ושתיים במספר ביום חמישי השבוע (השבעה בחודש) ויימשך עד ה-17 בחודש. על נותני החסות של האירוע נמנים: ויזה, רויאל בנק אוף קנדה, אייר פראנס, סינפלקס, סאן לייף פננשיאל, חברת התעופה דלתא, נשיונל בנק, פיצ’ה נובה, היץ’.אס.בי.סי, בריקס, אקורה רכב, מק קפה ובל. אירועי הפסטיבל בטורונטו מביאים להכנסה של כמאה ותשעים מיליון דולר לעסקים שונים בעיר ובקנדה בכלל. בין אורחי האירוע השנה: הלן מירן, אנג’לינה ג’ולי, גאל גרסיה ברנאל וחאווייר ברדם.