Month: November 2019

A day that changed my life

The author in the Sinai in October 1973, before his unit was attacked by two Iraqi planes, which caused the unit’s ammunition supply to explode, killing some soldiers and wounding others. (photo from Yom Shamash)

I would like to say that an event that happened 46 years ago left no marks on me and that I am over it. But then, I would not be honest. In fact, the experience left an indelible mark on my life and changed me completely.

In 1971, I returned to Israel – the country of my birth and early childhood – from Brazil with a Zionist youth group, to Kibbutz Zikim. I remember very well the prevailing thinking in Israel then. Four years after the victory of 1967, Israelis were quite confident. Egypt, the most powerful enemy Israel had, was neutralized. We were strong. We had conquered the Sinai, Gaza, the West Bank and the Golan. All in six days. I had absorbed this attitude and felt secure in my little world.

And then the war of 1973 exploded.

I served in the Sinai before the war; I was in a Nahal Brigade unit in which part of my service was spent on a kibbutz. On Oct. 6, 1973, I was on the kibbutz. It was Shabbat, Yom Kippur. Because Israel was caught off guard, there was no time to set up the unit in an orderly manner. As soon as we arrived at our position behind a high dune in the Sinai desert, we started shooting. My tank had a long-range cannon; we could not see what we were hitting 30 kilometres away.

Because my job was to pull the cannon’s trigger with both hands, I could not block my ears with my fingers, as all my tank mates did. As a result, I have a significant and permanent hearing loss.

On Oct. 13, 1973, our unit was decimated by two Iraqi planes. There had been a lull in the fighting and we had been resting on the sand. Suddenly, the two planes swooped from the sky, dropped bombs and disappeared in a matter of seconds. Very quickly, our own ammunition started to explode. Pieces of shrapnel started flying. The only thing to do was to run away from this inferno. Some soldiers were wounded, some died, and all who survived were traumatized.

Looking back now from the vantage point of 2019, many of us wonder about the heavy loss of young lives. Israel lost about 2,700 soldiers in that war. What did they die for? Defending the Sinai? Those of us who served in the Sinai know well that there isn’t much there except sand, stretching for miles; there isn’t much there to defend. What I didn’t know in 1973 was that, for several months prior to the war, Israel’s then-prime minister Golda Meir had rejected numerous initiatives by Egypt’s then-president Anwar Sadat to negotiate a peace accord. Was it worth it holding on to the Sinai? Especially since, in the end, Israel wound up returning the Sinai anyway?

The same could be said about Lebanon – more than 1,200 Israelis lost their lives in Lebanon from 1982 to 2000. Was it worth it? We must ask this question of the parents of those soldiers who lost their lives. I wonder what they would say.

I am afraid that one day the West Bank and the Golan will return to their rightful owners, the Palestinians and the Syrians, and, years later, we will ask ourselves what the hell we were doing in these places, and in Gaza.

Two million Palestinians in Gaza and two-and-a-half million in the West Bank, who do not have the right to vote in Israel, will not disappear, and I see no reason why Israeli soldiers should be controlling the movements of Palestinians traveling within the West Bank and those wanting to leave or enter the Gaza Strip. If I told you that Israelis traveling from Tel Aviv to Haifa have to pass through Palestinian checkpoints, you would say this is absurd. And I would agree, but it is no less absurd than Palestinians going from Ramallah to Nablus having to pass through Israeli checkpoints.

And why are settlers in the West Bank consuming 10 times more water than the indigenous Palestinians? And why are Israeli soldiers protecting settlers – who should not be there in the first place – some of whom do not serve nor send their children to serve in the army?

There can be no peace in Israel until there is peace in Gaza and the West Bank. The occupation is a recipe for continuous wars and insecurity for all.

I recall clearly, at the end of the Yom Kippur War, returning my equipment at the army base. I pledged that I would never again wear a green uniform.

For a long time, I did not understand how and what changed inside me that October. No one talked about post-traumatic stress disorder; no one talked about personal feelings. But the recurring nightmares never stopped. The fear and anxiety stayed. Right after the war, I sought out a psychiatrist friend, who told me to leave Israel for awhile – I had planned to study in Jerusalem, but he said leave and decide later. I left. I came to Canada, started a new life, married, studied, had four kids, remarried, had a good career and am enjoying life with my wife, children and four grandchildren.

Since leaving Israel in 1974, I have been back twice for visits, in 1998 and 2008.

What happened on Oct. 13, 1973, changed me and shaped my views, my values, my activism, my appreciation for what is important in life. Perhaps one of the most important lessons I learned is that war is never the best option to resolve conflicts. Taking land from others is never a way toward peace. Military strength is not a guarantee of security.

I wish I could be optimistic about the future of Israel, but I am not. For me to have any optimism at all, at a minimum, the occupation would have to end.

Yom Shamash was born in Israel. At the age of 6, his family moved to Brazil. He returned to Israel as a member of the Hashomer Hatzair group and settled in Kibbutz Zikim, south of Ashkelon. In British Columbia, he worked as a public school teacher in Surrey and, since retirement, he has been working as a translator and babysitter.

The wisdom of an oxymoron

Shabbat, Nov. 23
Chayei Sarah, Genesis 23:1-25:18
Haftarah, I Kings 1:1-31

I am an American citizen living in Vancouver, B.C., and serving a Reform congregation for the past six years. This juxtaposition of two increasingly disparate identities has given me a unique perspective on this week’s parashah, Chayei Sarah, and its introduction of the term ger toshav, resident alien.

In Chayei Sarah, we read the rather peculiar line, “Ger v’toshav anochi imachem” – “I am a resident alien [foreigner] living for a time among you; sell me a gravesite among you, that I may bury my dead here.” (Genesis 23:4) This is what Abraham says as he petitions the owner of a field for the right to purchase land for a gravesite for his wife Sarah.

To both the student of Torah and the student of the English language, this phrase, ger v’toshav, resident alien, piques interest and draws attention. It is an example of one of those delightful and often poignant turns of a phrase in any language, an oxymoron – the bringing together of two seemingly incompatible and opposite terms, like sweet sorrow, recorded live, act naturally, good grief, passive aggressive and, though not kosher, but still illustrative, jumbo shrimp.

I have always enjoyed how this literary device can be used to construct biting commentary on the incongruity of frequently paired things. That commentary can have a powerful effect, causing a moment of silence to hover over a room as we contemplate the phrase’s meaning. We recognize this when we dwell on the underlining message of ger v’toshav, resident alien. The oxymoron challenges us to see compatibility – even harmony – in seemingly incompatible things.

So, what is a ger v’toshav, a resident alien? In our Torah portion, and in Jewish legal texts that have followed, a ger v’toshav was an individual of special status in the community, one who lived permanently among the citizens of a place but did not have the status of a citizen. A ger toshav enjoyed all the protections a society offered its citizens but was exempt by virtue of his (it was not gender inclusive back then) special status from many of the requirements of citizenship. A ger toshav was a protected visitor and honoured guest in a society. Central to this was the public obligation for the health and welfare of a ger toshav. This was the sacred responsibility of each citizen in that society and of the society as a whole.

Jewish law is emphatic about our responsibility to the stranger who lives within our midst. Thirty-six times in Torah we are commanded to “love the stranger.” Every year at Passover, this theme serves as the narrative thread of the seder. At the very centre of the Torah, in the Holiness Code, we read, “The strangers who reside with you shall be to you as your citizens; you shall love each one as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” (Leviticus 19:34)

In this week’s parashah, Abraham, the emissary of Judaism to the world, the individual whose merit and relationship with God, above all others, is the reason we were given the Torah, is presented not as a powerful, wealthy businessman or as a man who regularly talks with God. Instead, he is presented as a helpless stranger in a land that he now calls home, seeking aid and assistance from its citizenship.

The text is both graphic and poignant. His dead wife literally lays at his feet, he owns nothing in this land and he asks to purchase a place so he may bury her. He does not seek a handout; he is willing to pay a fair price for the land, but wants permission to do so. And the Hittites who owned the land sell him a burial plot, breaking with their tradition, breaking the law against allowing aliens, even resident aliens, from owning land. (See Manfred R. Lehmann, “Abraham’s Purchase of Machpelah and Hittite Law,” Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, February 1953.) They sell him the land because they see themselves in his shoes; they imagine their own dead lying at their feet and they make a new law – and they help.

We hear the echo of this story in our own times, at borders north and south, east and west of wherever we are. How do we treat the strangers who show up in our land? Are they to be feared, incarcerated and ostracized? Or are they to be allowed some comfort, as our forefather Abraham was in his hour of great sorrow and despair?

When we are reminded of the kindness shown to our ancestors, when we are reminded that it was also a kindness shown to us, because we too were once strangers in the land, then the solution Judaism demands of us is obvious no matter the challenges. We must care for those who cross freeways, deserts, oceans and mountain ranges to get here, just as (or better than) our nations cared for our parents and grandparents as they were running for their lives. We must reach out to the strangers in our midst, to the resident aliens who live and work here, but for whom economic, social, medical and educational systems have no place. Torah commands us to make a place.

As is our tradition, when Abraham buried Sarah, he placed a stone on her grave as a sign to all who would see it: a sign with its own double meaning, like an oxymoron. The stone signified that beneath this ground lay Sarah, the wife of Abraham, the mother of Isaac. But it also said that this ground, this portion, belonged to Abraham, a resident alien in the land of the Hittites, who purchased this land though he had no legal claim to it. The stone is a sign for all times, a symbol of the kindness and sense of responsibility shown by the Hittites to the ger toshav, the resident alien, the stranger in their land, and a symbol of the universality of human life.

We all mourn our dead. Every person’s life has meaning, even if he or she speaks a different language than ours, comes from a different country, is a member of a different tribe. When we fail to act to heed this mitzvah, our Torah is clearly misunderstood.

Rabbi Dan Moskovitz is senior rabbi at Temple Sholom and author of The Men’s Seder (MRJ Publishing). He is also chair of the Reform Rabbis of Canada. His writing and perspective on Judaism appear in major print and digital media internationally. This article originally appeared on reformjudaism.org.

טורונטו למטיילים

שכונת קנסינגטון מרקט. (Arild Vågen)

טיול בטורונטו הוא חוויה מיוחדת, והעיר מתאימה לכל סוג טיול. לטיול עם הילדים, וגם בלי, למי שרוצה טיול שלו וגם כטיול עירוני. העיר מומלצת לכל מי שמגיע לקנדה והסביבה. טורונטו היא העיר הגדולה ביותר בקנדה וגרים בה למעלה מארבע וחצי מיליון תושבים. במטרו טורונטו גרים כשישה וחצי מיליון איש. כשישית מכל מקומות העבודה בקנדה מתרכזים בטורונטו שהוכרזה מדינה שהכי טוב לגור בה על פי האקונומיסט.

טורונטו הוקמה בשנת אלף שבע מאות תשעים ולשלוש לחופי אגם אונטריו, ונקראה בשם יורק. ארבעים ואחת שנה לאחר מכן הוכרזה כעיר ומאז היא נקראת טורונטו, שפירושו הוא: מקום מפגש בשפת המקומיים. מהמאה התשע עשרה החלה הגירה לעיר בעיקר מבריטניה, אירלנד. ולאחר מלחמת העולם השנייה גם ממזרח אירופה. בשנות השבעים החלה הגירה לעיר ממדינות אסיה.

מכל מקום בעיר תוכלו לראות את המגדל תקשורת הגבוה הסי.אן שמתנשא לגובה של חמש מאות חמישים ושלושה מטרים. הוא נחשב כאטרקציה המרכזית של העיר. מומלץ מאוד לעלות לתצפית שמגדל ולהסתכל על הנופים המדהימים שנשקפים ממנו. אם אתם חובבי ספורט אקסטרים ואם אין לכם פחד גבהים, תוכלו ללכת לנקודת התצפית הנמוכה יותר שרצפתה שקופה, ומי שזה לא מספיק לו יוכל להשתתף בפעילות שבה הולכים בגובה של שלוש מאות חמישים ושישה מטרים על המעקה החיצוני שמחוץ לבניין, קשורים ברתמה. כמו כן למגדל עצמו מגיעים במעלית שקופה שאפשר לראות ממנה את כל העיר, יש בו מרכז קניות נעים, ולמי שרוצה יש גם מסעדה במקום.

כמו בערים נוספות בקנדה גם בטורונטו החורף הוא קר מאוד, וגם כאן הקימו עיר תחתית מיוחדת שתוכל לשרת התושבים בימי החורף. העיר משתרעת על פני עשרים ושבעה ק”מ, ויש בה מגוון חנויות, מרכזי בידור, יציאות לבניינים חשובים, מרכזי קניות ועוד.

אם אתם רוצים להרגיש קצת אירופה לכו אל טירת לומה, בה תוכלו לטייל בחדרים מפוארים, במסדרונות מסתוריים, ואפילו במנהרה עתיקה באורך שמונה מאות מטרים. אחר כך תוכלו לעשות פיקניק בגנים שמחוץ לטירה וליהנות מהשלווה במקום. הטירה נבנתה במשך שלוש שנים והיא אתר חובה לכל אחד.

אם אתם אוהבים הופעות לכו אל גן המוזיקה. ההופעות בו מתקיימות בדרך כלל בקיץ (בין החודשים יוני לספטמבר) ואם אתם נמצאים בחודשים האלה בטורונטו אל תפספסו אותן. הגנים הוקמו על ידי הצ’לן הצרפתי-סיני-אמריקאי יו-יו מה. ההופעות הן בחינם ומתקיימות מתחת לכיפת השמיים כמובן.

אם אתם אוהבים את הסיקסטיז לכו לטייל בשכונת קנסינגטון מרקט. מדובר בשכונה היפית, צבעונית, עם אווירה שמזכירה את מסן פרנסיסקו של שנות השישים. יש כאן את החנויות עם הבגדים הכי מיוחדים, אנשים שאפשר לראות רק בשכונה הזו, אוכל אורגני וואווירה מיוחדת.

אחרי שחוויתם את האווירה המיוחדת בשכונת קנסינגטון לכו אל השכונה הקרובה והלא פחות מיוחדת – צ’יינה טאון. יש בה מסעדות סיניות מעולות, חנויות עם מוצרים מהמזרח, חנויות רהיטים, סופרמרקטים ייחודים ועוד. עדיף להגיע לצ’יינה טאון באמצע השבוע.

מדי שנה בחודש ספטמבר נערך פסטיבל הקולנוע המפורסם של טורונטו. הוא נמשך עשרה ימים, פתוח גם לקהל הרחב ומגיעים אליו למעלה משלוש מאות אלף איש. בהם אנשים מתעשיית הקולנוע מרחבי העולם. הפסטיבל החל בשנת אלף תשע מאות שבעים ושש, והוא נחשב לאחד מפסטיבלי הקולנוע החשובים בעולם, לצד פסטיבל קאן והפסטיבל בברלין. הפסטיבל מסמל את תחילת המרוץ לקראת האוסקר. האירוע מדגיש את הקולנוע עצמאי ואיכותי, בנוסף לקולנוע מיינסטרימי הוליוודי.

Child survivors gather

Child survivors Rabbi Joseph Polak, right, and Robert Krell at the Havdalah service Nov. 2, part of the annual conference of the World Federation of Jewish Child Survivors of the Holocaust and Descendants. (photo from Robert Krell)

When Halina Levitt was 2 years old in a part of Poland that is now in Ukraine, her mother left her with a Polish farm family to hide through the Holocaust.

“My mother luckily survived and came back to retrieve me,” Levitt told the Independent. “Of course, at that point, I was 5 years old and she was a total stranger to me. I didn’t want to go with her.”

The family who saved her didn’t want to relinquish her, either, and, as the conflict between the birth mother and the Polish family escalated, neighbours gathered and tried to intervene on behalf of the family as the mother tried to reclaim her child.

“She was quite scared for her life until we boarded the bus and got away from there,” Levitt said.

Rose Raport, a retired doctor from New Jersey, was also left with another family.

“I was given away to a Polish farmer at age 4,” she said. But her parents never returned. “I spent six years and, by the end of my stay with the Polish family, I found out that I’m left alone. There were no parents, there was no sibling, no family and that’s it.” She was turned over to the Jewish community and continued her life in a Jewish orphanage.

Karen Komar, a Massachusetts woman, managed to remain with her family in their home in Hamburg, Germany, until 1941. Then, an intervention by a distant American relative – Arthur Bulova, head of the Bulova watch company – succeeded in getting the family a visa to the United States.

These were just three of the experiences of people who convened in Vancouver Nov. 1-4 for the 31st annual conference of the World Federation of Jewish Child Survivors of the Holocaust and Descendants.

About 400 people attended the gathering – about 110 survivors, joined by members of the second, third and fourth generations, as well as spouses. Each has a unique experience, yet all who spoke with the Independent said such meetings are an opportunity to share time with those most likely to comprehend what they have endured and the lives they have led.

The conference was co-chaired by Vancouverites Marie Doduck and Dr. Robert Krell, both child survivors of the Holocaust.

The conferences create a feeling of belonging, said Doduck.

“Our survivors feel safe, they talk about their lives, their grandchildren, their past, their future, their thoughts in a safe place,” she said. “And the children felt a safe place to speak about their feelings, that they may not be able to do with their parents or grandparents.”

Child survivors – almost all of whom were hidden children during the war because almost none of the children who were sent to concentration camps survived – were not recognized, by themselves or others, as Holocaust survivors or as a distinct group until the 1980s. Because they were so young during the war, or because they were not in the camps, their experiences were dismissed by adults. A 1988 book by Helen Epstein, Children of the Holocaust: Conversations with Sons and Daughters of Survivors began a reconsideration of the individual and collective experiences of the second generation, but also of those who survived as hidden children and who were not, until then, considered “survivors.”

“We still are the children inside of us,” said Doduck. “When I speak in schools, I speak of the child inside of me, not this mother, grandmother, now great-grandmother that they’re looking at, this old lady. This old lady is really Mariette the child, who is starting, after 70 years growing up … who had no childhood, who lived with bombs and death and starvation and disease. I knew that, if I was sick, I would die, and most of us have these kinds of stories.”

Categories can be fluid, Krell explained. As a hidden child who survived in Holland thanks to a Christian family, he is a child survivor. But he is also a second generation, because his parents survived the camps and came back to claim him. This was statistically extraordinary, as the Netherlands had one of the highest Jewish death rates by country in the Holocaust.

Krell feels a special kinship with Abe Foxman, longtime head of the Anti-Defamation League, with whom he organized one of the first child survivor conferences, in 1991. Foxman was hidden from ages 2 to 5, just like Krell. His parents also returned to claim him, an even more statistically anomalous outcome, given that he was in Poland, which had the most catastrophic statistics of annihilation. Krell tried to get Foxman to attend this month’s conference, but the distance was too great to travel.

Location is an important part of the conferences, said Krell, and accessibility is one of the reasons they move annually in Europe, all over North America and to Israel, depending on the year. This year, almost half the attendees were British Columbians.

More than three dozen workshops, panel discussions and plenaries offered a range of topics for attendees, with some exclusive to survivors or successive generations. An art installation and a musical concluding evening added to the weekend experience.

Guest presenters included Rabbi Joseph Polak, a child survivor of Bergen-Belsen and author of After the Holocaust the Bells Still Ring; Dr. Catherine Chatterley, founding director of the Canadian Institute for the Study of Antisemitism; Prof. Chris Friedrichs, professor emeritus of history at the University of British Columbia; and Vancouverite Robbie Waisman, a survivor of Buchenwald, who spoke together with Éloge Butera, a survivor of the genocide against the Tutsis in Rwanda, about human rights activism. Krell’s plenary address opened the conference on the Saturday morning with a keynote titled The Future of Our Past: Informing and Inspiring Next Generations.

A story of two of six million

Dr. Michael Hayden delivers the keynote address at the annual Kristallnacht commemorative program Nov. 7. (photo by Al Szajman)

In the 1930s, German Jews were required to register all precious metals in their possession, a prelude to having them confiscated. In Hamburg alone, the Nazis collected 20 tons of silver, much of it Judaica. Of this, they melted down 18 tons. Two tons was deemed by the Nazi curator Carl Schellenberg to be of artistic or other value in its existing form.

After the war, Schellenberg was kept on by the British because his scrupulous indexing of artifacts made him valuable. His love of the city of Hamburg meant he ensured that some of the most precious pieces of stolen art and artifacts made their way to that city’s museum.

That is where Dr. Michael Hayden, a Vancouver researcher in molecular medicine and human genetics, and one of the world’s leading researchers in Huntington disease, was able to trace one of the few remaining pieces of his grandparents’ once-extensive collection of Judaica.

A silver Kiddush cup, crafted in 1757 and embossed with a vivid three-dimensional depiction of the story of Jacob’s vision of a ladder to heaven, which belonged to his grandparents, Gertrud and Max Raphael Hahn, has been restituted to the family. It is now on loan, a small artifact in size but one of the most stunning pieces in a just-opened exhibition at the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre, titled Treasured Belongings: The Hahn Family & the Search for a Stolen Legacy.

photo - Max and Gertrud Hahn, the patriarch and matriarch of the German-Jewish Hahn family of Göttingen. Photo taken in Berlin, Germany, 1918. While their children, Rudolf and Hanni, emigrated to England, the couple did not survive the Holocaust
Max and Gertrud Hahn, the patriarch and matriarch of the German-Jewish Hahn family of Göttingen. Photo taken in Berlin, Germany, 1918. While their children, Rudolf and Hanni, emigrated to England, the couple did not survive the Holocaust. (photo from Hahn family)

Hayden delivered the keynote address at the annual Kristallnacht commemorative program Nov. 7, before the opening of the exhibition to the public. The exhibit runs to Nov. 27, 2020.

“It’s a story that it’s taken me a long time to confront,” Hayden told the Independent.

Hayden’s grandparents were transported to Riga, Latvia, in 1941, where they were murdered by Latvian collaborators of the Nazis. Max Hahn had been arrested for the first time on Kristallnacht, three years earlier, but, with Gertrud, had managed to secure the passage of many possessions to safe locations in the neutral countries of Sweden and Switzerland. More importantly, they had sent their two children, daughter Hanni and son Rudolf – Hayden’s father – to safety in London.

After the war, the orphaned pair retrieved the remnants of their family’s material possessions. Rudolf, who joined the British army in 1943 and adopted the less Germanic-sounding name Roger Hayden, moved to South Africa. There, more than a dozen boxes sat undiscussed in the family home. When Roger passed away, Michael Hayden shipped the boxes to his Vancouver home, where they sat, unopened, for another two decades.

When he finally confronted the parcels from his family’s past, he discovered a stamp collection, maps, artworks – and 9,000 original documents relating to his family’s history from the 1850s until 1941. These included heart-wrenching letters between Rudolf in England and his parents still in Germany.

While Michael Hayden was growing up, there were some items that his father had not kept stored away. One was a Paul Ritter violin that Rudolf had received on his bar mitzvah. Michael’s daughter, Anna, now a Vancouver hematology oncologist, played on it as a young person and Hayden hopes to one day hear grandchildren also play it. It is part of the exhibit. It is also a hint of how the family got its name. It was not a coincidence that, in anglicizing his name, Rudolf/Roger chose a variation on the surname of a legendary classical composer.

“There were piano recitals and all kinds of concerts in the Hahn family every Sunday,” said Hayden. “They used to have a little chamber orchestra, it was a totally different world. So, he chose the name Roger Hayden from Rudolf Hahn and I’m sure Hayden had some comfort for him because Haydn was so important in his life.”

photo - The silver gilt kiddush cup adorned with the story of Jacob (Germany, 1757), acquired by Max Hahn in the early 1900s and confiscated by the Nazis in 1939, is the only piece of Hahn’s looted Judaica collection that has been restituted to date
The silver gilt kiddush cup adorned with the story of Jacob (Germany, 1757), acquired by Max Hahn in the early 1900s and confiscated by the Nazis in 1939, is the only piece of Hahn’s looted Judaica collection that has been restituted to date. (photo © Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre)

Hayden credits the German government and museums for supporting restitution efforts. His family recently received a grant from the German federal government to hire a researcher to continue the search. Understandably, the challenges are great. The Hahn family’s collection of Judaica was considered one of the finest and most extensive in Germany, rivaling those of the Sassoon and Rothschild families. Because they had lent some objects to museums, and because of Max and Gertrud’s careful recordkeeping, the family has both photographs and detailed inventories of what the collection included before it was looted. Most families do not have such tangible proof.

Hayden emphasizes that any material value of restituted artifacts is irrelevant and the importance is because of personal significance, and that the process represents steps toward reconciliation and restoring dignity of Nazism’s victims.

“For me, personally, it’s been a process of coming to terms with the unimaginable horror and confronting it,” he said.

He has had very positive and some negative experiences during this work. He is impressed with the German government’s efforts to seek forgiveness for their country’s past, including memorializations like the 70,000 Stolpersteine, stumbling stones, that have been installed outside the last homes of victims of the Nazis, and the fact that the vast Holocaust memorial in Berlin is located between the embassies of major countries in the heart of the city.

“When I see Germany and I see what they’re doing, it’s been very instructive for me about confronting your history and confronting it unabashedly,” he said, making parallels with Canada’s reconciliation process with First Nations.

Germany’s response is especially admirable in comparison to other European countries that experienced collaboration and, rather than confronting their past, are actively denying it.

But, Hayden has had negative experiences, including the discovery that the school his father had attended in Hamburg had, as recently as a few years ago, what amounted to a museum to those students who had fought for the Nazis, with not a trace of the fate of the Jewish students who had attended. The Nazi display is now gone and a marker lists the names of Jewish students who were murdered. But he also discovered that the school’s long-held assurance that they had never participated in Nazi activities was fabricated, when photos emerged of the school festooned in Nazi flags and students and faculty making Heil Hitler salutes.

“At a personal level, for me, it’s trying to give up the stowaway of sorrow and pain on my shoulders that I’ve never confronted and to move forward,” Hayden said. “It’s not that I’m at forgiveness, but I recognize that forgiveness is not so much for those you are forgiving, but for the forgiver. You can give up your own toxic anger and move forward. For me, it’s also been a journey to acknowledge my own German ancestry and come to terms with it.”

photo - Dr. Michael Hayden, the grandson of Max and Gertrud Hahn, discovered in the 1980s that this Torah binder was in the possession of the City Museum in Göttingen. The piece of cloth was used to swaddle his great-grandfather Raphael Hahn for his brit milah (circumcision ceremony) in 1831. With the help of Göttingen’s mayor, Hayden organized for the Torah binder to be returned to his family
Dr. Michael Hayden, the grandson of Max and Gertrud Hahn, discovered in the 1980s that this Torah binder was in the possession of the City Museum in Göttingen. The piece of cloth was used to swaddle his great-grandfather Raphael Hahn for his brit milah (circumcision ceremony) in 1831. With the help of Göttingen’s mayor, Hayden organized for the Torah binder to be returned to his family. (photo © Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre)

He hopes that the exhibit, his family’s story and the larger facts of the Holocaust resonate in today’s world.

“We’ve got to be aware of ourselves as Jews of condemning other populations, we have to be aware of stereotyping, we have to be even more acutely aware from our own history about the struggles and making sure that we learn from that in the way that we conduct ourselves, so recognizing, as we look at children on television separated from their parents, that we too can be horrified by that and do whatever we can to make sure that we are not complicit or even silent in the face of all of this,” he said. “In certain circumstances, unless we really hold onto some deep principles of democratic culture and value of life, your neighbours can become your killers.”

As the search for additional family heirlooms continues, Hayden acknowledges the challenges. “I think it is a needle in a haystack to be honest, but it’s worth pursuing.”

Of the entire experience, he said: “It’s been an opportunity to give individuality and identity for two of six million people who were murdered, to rescue them from generalizations and understand who they were and understand their distinctiveness and to bring my grandparents out of obscurity and give them the warmth and respect they deserve.”

The Kristallnacht commemoration where Hayden spoke began with a candlelight procession of survivors. Cantor Yaacov Orzech chanted El Maleh Rachamim. Philip Levinson, president of the Vancouver Holocaust Education Centre (VHEC), introduced the event and Nina Krieger, the VHEC’s executive director, introduced the keynote speaker. Rabbi Jonathan Infeld offered reflections after Hayden’s address. Jody Wilson-Raybould, member of Parliament for Vancouver Granville, offered greetings, and Councilor Sarah Kirby-Yung read a proclamation from the City of Vancouver. The event was presented by the VHEC, in partnership with Congregation Beth Israel, the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver and the Robert and Marilyn Krell Endowment Fund of the VHEC.

Jewish war brides talk

At the University of British Columbia on Nov. 21, Prof. Robin Judd will speak on What’s Love Got to Do With It? Jewish War Brides and North American Soldier Husbands after the Second World War. (photo from Robin Judd)

Prof. Robin Judd noticed that a significant number of the earliest Holocaust memoirs written by women were penned by “war brides” who had married American, Canadian or British soldiers.

In the course of teaching about the Holocaust at Ohio State University, the coincidence struck her and, as happens in research, led her onto a new topic. She is nearing completion on a book about the experiences of Jewish women – and a few men – in Europe and North Africa who married Allied service personnel and moved to Canada, the United States or Britain. She will give a guest lecture on the subject at the University of British Columbia next week and the public is welcome to attend.

The lecture is titled What’s Love Got to Do With It? Jewish War Brides and North American Soldier Husbands after the Second World War, and Judd told the Independent that love certainly played a key role, but some of the other factors at play also interest her.

“What prompts individuals from radically different cultures, who may not necessarily speak the same language, what prompts them to create relationships with one another and long-lasting relationships, relationships that are going to result in marriage and then bring the civilians to Canada, Britain or the United States?” she asked.

Most of the soldiers that Judd is studying were Jewish themselves, though there are exceptions to the rule.

In some cases, the wives would arrive in the new country before or otherwise apart from their new husbands or fiancés. An entire infrastructure was in place to accommodate and integrate them.

“The war brides, particularly if you come to the United States or to Canada as a war bride, first you live with other war brides at least temporarily in a kind of war bride home or war bride camp and you travel on a war bride ship and there are particular Red Cross workers who teach English and show films and cooking classes,” she said.

If the fiancés or husbands were not yet decommissioned or were traveling with their units, the brides may have found themselves in the position of living with their new in-laws.

“These were not the spouses they were planning for their sons,” Judd comments. “And all of a sudden here you have this woman show up. You are processing stories that you are hearing about the war and all of a sudden here comes this person and you might not be able to communicate, you might not have a shared language, you might not know how to even ask questions about what this person had experienced.”

Feeling isolated and foreign, some of these women used the opportunity to express their experiences privately, to themselves, in writing.

“Some of the women that I’ve spoken to have told me that they used that time to write out their story, to put it to paper, because they needed to kind of get it out and there was no one with whom they could talk, literally,” she said. “But then, as they began to create networks, make new connections, maybe by that point their now-husbands have returned to Canada, Britain or the U.S., a number of them tell me that they then destroyed them.”

By an apparent coincidence, though, Judd concluded that it was disproportionately the women who had married soldiers who were among the first to publish English-language Holocaust memoir narratives for general readers in the 1970s and ’80s. She has a theory about this, but admits she could be wrong: these may have been some of the first women who were asked to speak about their early life and Holocaust experiences to Jewish women’s groups, federations and other community audiences, acclimating them to become among the first to put them on paper for general readers.

“But, again, I could be completely wrong,” she said.

Judd’s lecture is supported by a Holocaust education fund in UBC’s department of history to support undergraduate education on the Holocaust. The fund supports a biannual lecture, alternating years with the Rudolf Vrba Memorial Lecture, and is incorporated into an undergraduate course, History of the Holocaust, taught by Prof. Richard Menkis, who is also chair of the committee that manages the fund. The public is welcome to attend on Thursday, Nov. 21, 5-6:15 p.m., at Buchanan D217 at UBC.

Price is a point of view

Left to right, Patrick Bahrich, Sjahari Hollands and Christine Iannetta co-star, along with Rob Monk, in United Players’ production of The Price by Arthur Miller, which is at Jericho Arts Centre until Dec. 1. (photo by Nancy Caldwell)

United Players of Vancouver theatre company has a reputation for tackling challenging, thought-provoking material and, with its current production, The Price, by Arthur Miller, it lives up to that reputation.

Playing at Jericho Arts Centre until Dec. 1, The Price is a densely packed play, covering several themes: sibling rivalry, self-perception, filial and spousal duty, memory, modernity, the Depression, materialism, success, failure, and more. In a play where dialogue is the main action, actors Patrick Bahrich, Sjahari Hollands, Christine Iannetta and Rob Monk do an adept job at keeping the audience engaged.

First to enter the scene – a room full of heavy, dated furniture, piled high and seemingly haphazardly – is Victor Franz (Bahrich), a New York City policeman. He slowly and almost lovingly uncovers some of the many items and puts a record on a Victrola – a laugh track of sorts, apparently a popular type of recording, once upon a time.

Victor’s wife Esther (Iannetta) arrives, amid the laughter, which contrasts to the obvious tension between the two. Victor immediately accuses her of being drunk, and she defensively replies, “I had one!”

The furniture belonged to Victor’s family and is being stored on the upper floor of the building in which they lived. His brother Walter (Monk) is supposed to be coming to help him sell it to an appraiser (Hollands), as the building is soon to be demolished.

The Franzes’ marriage could be summarized by the phrase “unfulfilled expectations.” Director Adam Henderson – who is a member of the Jewish community – has chosen to stage the play as a period piece, so that viewers will ponder how the roles of men and women have changed, and how societal norms have evolved (or not), since 1968, when The Price premièred on Broadway. Miller’s opening direction is, “Today. New York.” However, the today of 2019 is very different from that of 50 years ago, as is evident on several occasions, especially in how the men talk to and about Esther, and how her character is written overall.

Eventually, the appraiser stomps and puffs his way up the stairs to home-cum-storage unit. Eighty-nine-year-old Gregory Solomon was expecting there to be only a few pieces to consider and is overwhelmed by the volume of furniture. He also ends up entangled in the volume of resentment and distrust between the brothers, who haven’t spoken to each other for ages. Walter shows up at the end of Act 1, just as Solomon is paying Victor the agreed-upon price for the lot, $1,100, one $100 bill at a time.

Sweeping in, expensively dressed and broadcasting on more than one level his success and confidence, Walter is the brother who managed to escape their controling father and follow his dreams, while self-effacing Victor dropped out of college to take care of their father, who lost almost everything in the Stock Market Crash of 1929. But, as the conversation and argument proceed, it becomes apparent that neither characterization is accurate. Nor is there a clear verdict on what really happened all those years ago, as they are unable to reconcile their recollections of the past or their beliefs about each other and themselves.

Solomon – who has his own regrets in life – tells Victor, “… the price of used furniture is nothing but a viewpoint and, if you wouldn’t understand the viewpoint, it’s impossible to understand the price.”

We do not understand everything we do in life, let alone everything that other people do. The price that we – and others – pay for our choices is as obscure. And time doesn’t allow us to go back and change things; time is an ever-present weight in The Price.

There is no happy ending here, despite the humour that runs throughout, and the fact that the play both starts and ends with the laughter record. Once the Franzes have all left, the deal done, Solomon puts on the record. He flops into one of the big armchairs and laughs and laughs.

The Price will leave you with much to think and talk about. For tickets, visit unitedplayers.com or purchase them at the door.

Rockets raining down

Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu talks about the rockets being fired from Gaza. (photo by IGPO via Ashernet)

Rockets were falling on southern and central Israel as the paper went to press this week. After the Israeli military killed Islamic Jihad commander Baha Abu al-Ata, Gaza once again erupted into full war footing.

The Iran-backed Palestinian Islamic Jihad called the assassination “a declaration of war against the Palestinian people” and declared, “Our response to this crime will have no limits.” Because they’re usually so restrained.

Schools were closed and Israelis, especially in the “envelope” area near the Gaza Strip but also in Tel Aviv, hunkered down in bomb shelters as Iron Dome deflected some but far from all of the rockets launched from the enclave.

The new, or renewed, conflict does not occur in a vacuum. Political leaders in Israel are in the midst of difficult negotiations to form a government after the second inconclusive election this year. Some critics claim the fighting is a scorched earth attempt by incumbent Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu to shake up the status quo and tip domestic politics in his favour. But, among those who reject this assessment is Netanyahu’s chief rival, Benny Gantz, who is now leading the efforts to cobble together a working alliance in the Knesset.

It all has a feel of déjà vu, of course, because this scenario, in different permutations, has played out repeatedly. As we posited in this space recently, some people say the status quo cannot hold. It can. It has for decades. But intermittent, terrible flare-ups like this are a part of and a price for that status quo, a high price paid by both Israelis and Palestinians. Until someone finds a path for both peoples to coexist more peacefully, this is life.

Xenophobia intolerable

Don Cherry and Ron Maclean on screen, in 2018. (photo by Ross Dunn/flickr.com)

For many Canadians, Don Cherry and his bombastic pronouncements about hockey, but, more importantly, about society and whatever pops into his head, have been like a tolerated, occasionally amusing uncle at the family table. An opinionated crank who seems like a throwback to an earlier, less refined time, Cherry has been coming into our living rooms for decades, part and parcel with our national pastime.

But there’s a limit.

Cherry was finally told to leave the family table Monday after a rant about “you people” – new Canadians, immigrants or, as people of his inclination might characterize them, “foreigners.”

“You people … you love our way of life, you love our milk and honey, at least you can pay a couple bucks for a poppy or something like that,” Cherry said on Hockey Night in Canada last Saturday, two days before Remembrance Day. His implication was that new Canadians do not wear poppies or perhaps do so in lesser numbers than Canada-born Canadians. The Canadian Broadcast Standards Council was inundated and paralyzed on the weekend by complaints from viewers. On Remembrance Day, Sportsnet, which broadcasts the program, pulled the plug.

Cherry was unrepentant: “I know what I said and I meant it. Everybody in Canada should wear a poppy to honour our fallen soldiers.”

But that wasn’t the context of what he said. His implication was clear: immigrants take the benefits of life in Canada but do not respect the sacrifices that built the country or those who made them. That’s a far different – and more xenophobic – thing than saying everyone should wear a poppy.

Already, of course, social media grumps and trolls are declaring this the latest case of “political correctness” run amok, akin to taking “all thy sons command” out of the national anthem and all the other modernizations that threaten the hegemony of the geezer class.

Times change. People adapt or they don’t. But there are consequences in either case.

“To keep my job, I cannot be turned into a tamed robot,” said Cherry.

So be it.

Harpers at Lake Hula opening

Laureen and Stephen Harper, centre left, and Daniel Atar, KKL-JNF world chair, centre, were among those who cut the ribbon at the Nov. 6 official opening of the Stephen J. Harper Hula Valley Bird Sanctuary Visitor and Education Centre. (photo by Michael Huri)

Former Canadian prime minister Stephen Harper was in Israel earlier this month for a four-day visit with a delegation from the Jewish National Fund of Canada, where he took part in the dedication of the new visitors centre at JNF Lake Hula Park in northern Israel, which is named in his honour.

Budgeted at $25 million Cdn, one-fifth of which was raised by the JNF of Canada, the Stephen J. Harper Hula Valley Bird Sanctuary Visitor and Education Centre south of Qiryat Shmona is seen as “the flagship project of Keren-Kayemet L’Yisrael (KKL),” the JNF’s Israel-based sister organization. Harper contributed to the cost of the project, and the auditorium is named for his wife, Laureen, in recognition of her service to Canada, friendship to Israel and dedication to the preservation of nature and wildlife.

Stephen Harper was honoured at the JNF of Canada’s 2013 Negev Dinner in Toronto. At the time, then-JNF chief executive officer Josh Cooper said: “Given his well-documented love of animals, we felt this would be an appropriate project to present to him.”

Now completed, six years after fundraising began, the facility promises to transform the experience of ornithologists and bird watchers who come to the Hula Valley. There, they can watch the twice-a-year seasonal migration of 500 million birds from more than 500 species, from Europe and Central Asia to Africa, and back.

The Hula Valley, located in the shadow of Mount Hermon, is considered the crown jewel of Israeli conservation efforts. Known in the Bible as Merom, up until the 1950s, it was full of swampland that was notorious for breeding malaria-carrying anopheles mosquitoes. In the 1950s, the wetlands were drained, with the hope that fertile farmland would result; instead, environmental devastation and the extinction of some indigenous species followed. Farming in the area was never successful and JNF ultimately decided to reflood part of the former lake.

Known in Hebrew as Agamon Hula (Little Lake Hula), the flat valley is filled with an array of birds, including cranes, pelicans and eagles. Visitors can observe the birds and also cycle around the site.

***

At the gala dinner Nov. 5 in honour of Harper, which took place at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in Jerusalem, Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu spoke about the danger Iran’s nuclear ambitions poses for Israel, the Middle East and the West.

“Iran expands its aggression everywhere. It seeks to envelop Israel. It seeks to threaten Israel. It seeks to destroy Israel. We fight back,” Netanyahu said. “I also want to say, given Iran’s efforts to expand its nuclear weapons program, expand its enrichment of uranium for making atomic bombs, I repeat here once again – we will never let Iran develop nuclear weapons. This is not only for our security and our future; it’s for the future of the Middle East and the world.”

Netanyahu was particularly concerned about Tehran’s plans to start injecting UF6 (uranium hexafluoride) gas into the centrifuges to enrich uranium to five percent at the heavily fortified underground Fordow Fuel Enrichment Plant, located inside a mountain 32 kilometres northeast of the Shi’ite holy city of Qom.

Earlier in the day, Iran’s nuclear chief Ali Akbar Salehi promised that his country would violate the element of the 2015 nuclear deal known as the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, which Tehran had worked out with the P5+1 (China, France, Germany, Russia, the United Kingdom and the United States). The United States left the deal last year and has imposed sanctions on Iran in an attempt to force it to renegotiate the document. Tehran, in turn, has begun violating the deal in an attempt to pressure the United States to recall the sanctions.

Under the 2015 agreement between Iran and world powers, Iran agreed to turn Fordow into a “nuclear, physics and technology centre,” where 1,044 centrifuges would be used for purposes other than enrichment, such as producing stable isotopes, which have a variety of civil uses. The deal bans nuclear material from Fordow and, by injecting UF6 into centrifuges, the facility will become an active nuclear site rather than a research plant as permitted under the pact.

***

Since leaving Parliament after the Conservative party was defeated in the 2015 federal election by the Liberals, Harper has become president of the Awz venture capital fund advisory committee. The fund, founded by managing partner Yaron Ashkenazi, specializes in investments in Israeli security and intelligence startups, and manages $100 million in assets. The fund has invested in 12 companies to date, according to the Israeli financial website Globes.

Harper, an enthusiastic supporter of Israel, has visited many times. On Jan. 20, 2014, he addressed the Knesset plenum, saying: “It is, thus, a Canadian tradition to stand for what is principled and just, regardless of whether it is convenient or popular. But, I would argue, support today for the Jewish state of Israel is more than a moral imperative, it is also of strategic importance, also a matter of our own, long-term interests…. For too many nations, it is still easier to scapegoat Israel than to emulate your success.”

About the education centre, he said in a statement, “This park is one of the greatest restoration stories, just like this country is to the Jewish people. It is a magnificent honour to have this centre named after my name, and I am grateful for this beautiful occasion.”

Gil Zohar is a writer and tour guide in Jerusalem, Israel.