freelancer – Page 6

Art chosen for new museum

From a specific vantage point, the dispersed lines of Nicolas Baier’s Candelabra – winner of the Montreal Holocaust Museum’s public art competition for its new building – create the shape of a sphere. (photo from MHM)

The Montreal Holocaust Museum (MHM) has selected Montreal-based artist Nicolas Baier as the winner of its public art competition for its new museum opening in 2027.

Baier’s artwork, Candelabra, will be installed on the museum’s rooftop terraces. The sculpture is a luminous, constellation-like network of polished stainless-steel lines and points of light set against the Montreal sky. The work is reminiscent of countless survivor stories about imprisonment in ghettos and concentration camps, where the only form of escape was looking to the night sky. Inspired by the human impulse to connect stars into meaningful patterns, the piece reflects bonds built between individuals, communities and generations.

Rather than reproducing traditional constellations, Baier has created a new network based on astronomical data from the sky above Montreal. From a specific vantage point on the terrace, the dispersed lines create the shape of a sphere, evoking our shared planet and humanity.

photo - Nicolas Baier’s Candelabra — Nicolas Baier’s Candelabra. *(photo from MHM)*

In a museum dedicated to Holocaust remembrance, Candelabra speaks to the fragility and resilience of human connection. The Holocaust was marked by the systematic destruction of Jewish life, the devastation of whole communities and the severing of social bonds. At a time when antisemitism and other forms of hate are on the rise, the sculpture serves as a reminder that societies are shaped by the networks we build and protect, and that, even in darkness, light endures.

The competition was held in accordance with Quebec’s Politique d’intégration des arts à l’architecture et à l’environnement des bâtiments et des sites gouvernementaux et publics, which mandates that approximately one percent of the construction budget of public buildings be dedicated to the commissioning of a work of art.

The selection committee was composed of Marie-Blanche Fourcade (head of collections and exhibitions at the MHM); Adrian Sheppard (user representative); Renée Daoust (architect); Suzelle Levasseur (visual arts specialist); Stéphanie L’Heureux (ministry representative); Martha Townsend (visual arts specialist); and Helen Malkin (observer, chair and consultant for the new MHM).

“Nicolas Baier’s proposal moved us because it expresses the importance of human connection,” said Rachel Gropper, Holocaust survivor and co-president of the museum. “In a place devoted to memory and education, this work reminds us that each individual life matters, and that together we have the responsibility to uphold compassion and hope.”

To contribute to the MHM’s building campaign, Give Voice, go to museeholocauste.ca/en/give-voice.

– Courtesy Montreal Holocaust Museum

Reminder of hope, resilience

Kindergarten children preparing matzah, 1925. (photo by Joseph Schweigh, KKL-JNF Photo Archive)

In uncertain times like these, as the war with Iran continues, attention often turns to the traditions and customs that have carried generations through both hardship and renewal. Against this backdrop, Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael–Jewish National Fund (KKL-JNF) has shared some rare images from its photo archive documenting Passover across the years. The images, dating from before the declaration of the state of Israel, reflect enduring elements of Jewish life, including tradition, education and communal practice.

photo - A festive parade of Jewish soldiers during Passover in Jerusalem, 1948 — A festive parade of Jewish soldiers during Passover in Jerusalem, 1948. *(photo by Rudolf Jonas, KKL-JNF Photo Archive, KKL-JNF Photo Archive)*

Among them are a photograph from the 1920s showing kindergarten children preparing matzah dough; documentation from a festive Passover parade for Israeli soldiers in 1948, the year of Israel’s independence; and families in Jerusalem’s Mea She’arim neighbourhood participating in the burning of chametz in 1983, a year marked by the effects of the Lebanon War. Though decades apart, the scenes show how holiday practices supported community connection and hope during periods of instability.

photo - A wall newspaper produced in the 1950s and 1960s by Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael–Jewish National Fund’s education department, which was displayed in Jewish schools in England — A wall newspaper produced in the 1950s and 1960s by Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael–Jewish National Fund’s education department, which was displayed in Jewish schools in England. *(photo from KKL-JNF Banner collection displayed in the Central Zionist Archives in Jerusalem)*

The archival materials also include a wall newspaper produced in the 1950s and 1960s by KKL-JNF’s education department, which was displayed in Jewish schools in England. The poster places the Exodus from Egypt alongside images of agricultural work, tree planting and communal life in the land of Israel, illustrating how Passover was given renewed meaning in the Zionist era as a bridge between a biblical narrative and a modern vision of national renewal.

photo - The burning of chametz in the Mea She’arim neighbourhood in Jerusalem, 1983 — The burning of chametz in the Mea She’arim neighbourhood in Jerusalem, 1983. *(photo from KKL-JNF Photo Archive)*

“These photographs show how people held onto tradition, community and hope during uncertain periods,” noted Efrat Sinai, director of archives at KKL-JNF. “Viewed today, they highlight both historical experience and the sources of resilience that continue to shape Jewish life. Passover appears here as a living educational framework, a connection between Jewish communities in Israel and abroad, and a reflection of the strength of these communities across generations.”

KKL-JNF’s photo archive, which contains tens of thousands of historical photographs, serves as a living chronicle of life in the land of Israel and beyond. Together, these materials are a reminder that the story of Israel has never been defined by hardship alone, but also by its ability to hold onto hope, tradition and the promise of brighter days ahead.

– Courtesy Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael-Jewish National Fund

The national food of Israel?

RuhamaFoods’ Oven-baked Schnitzel, made by yours truly, the Accidental Balabusta. (photo by Shelley Civkin)

There has recently been some heated debate (in my living room) over what can accurately be called the national food of Israel. Family would claim it’s falafel. Outsiders would say hummus. Personally, I believe it’s chicken schnitzel. Or, as the Israelis call it: kreezpy schnitzel (heavy on the elongated “ee” sound and the “z”). Whatever you call it or however you pronounce it, it’s undeniably a culinary staple everywhere you go in Israel. Often accompanied by silky mashed potatoes and a fresh salad, there’s nothing quite like it.

Much as I love schnitzel, I detest the thought of frying food in two inches of oil. So, when I discovered a recipe for oven-baked schnitzel – on Instagram, of course – I jumped on it. There’s a popular Israeli-American content creator by the name of Ruhama Shitrit, who shares authentic Middle Eastern recipes on various social media platforms, through her brand, RuhamasFood. Her recipes are a mix of traditional and modern Mediterranean food, with marked Iraqi and Moroccan influences. Easy-to-follow and pretty much foolproof, you can’t go wrong with anything from Ruhama. Trying out her recipes, however, there was a non-schnitzel-specific learning curve for me, since I was unfamiliar with spices like ras el hanout and sumac. But I caught on pretty quickly.

Long story short (maybe not so short), I mentioned to my husband that I was thinking of making chicken schnitzel and he practically wet himself, he was so excited. And, even though I overcooked it slightly, the schnitzel was a solid eight out of 10. (I’m still getting used to my new oven, having discovered that it underheats by 10 to 15 degrees, so I always bump up the temp a bit.)

Formerly known to my friends and family as “the water-burner,” I have, to everyone’s astonishment, turned into Donna Reed. All I’m missing is the poodle skirt and kitten heels. Oh, and pearls. Now, with my dream kitchen, I love to cook and bake. Every. Single. Day. Harvey keeps saying, “Where did you hide my wife?” Not that he’s unhappy with Shelley version 2.0. His excitement when I produce a beautiful meal or “the world’s best cookies” keeps me pumped up and eager to keep on preheating that oven.

OK, OK, wait no longer. Coming to you live and direct from the Accidental Balabusta, is the one and only Oven-baked Schnitzel by Ruhama.

OVEN-BAKED SCHNITZEL

2 lbs of thin chicken breast cutlets
2 eggs
1 tsp sea salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp cumin
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
1 tbsp honey
juice from 1/2 lemon
2 minced garlic cloves
2 tbsp olive oil

for breadcrumb mixture:
1/2 cup Panko breadcrumbs
1 cup breadcrumbs
1/4 cup sesame seeds

for the baking pan:
6 tbsp olive oil
olive oil or avocado oil spray

1. Preheat the oven to 420˚F.

2. Using a mallet, pound out the chicken breast cutlets to about quarter-inch thickness (between two pieces of plastic wrap).

3. In a large bowl, put the eggs and all the spices and whisk them well.

4. Add the chicken cutlets and mix them really well so all the pieces are covered.

5. Coat each chicken cutlet with the breadcrumb mixture on both sides.

6. On a parchment paper-lined baking sheet, drizzle three tablespoons of olive oil.

7. Place the chicken cutlets on the baking sheet in one layer.

8. Drizzle three tablespoons of olive oil on top of the chicken cutlets.

9. Bake for 15 minutes, then flip them over and bake for 10 more minutes.

10. Spray the top of the cutlets with olive oil or avocado oil and transfer them to a convection broil at 450˚F for seven to eight minutes to get a nice golden colour.

I didn’t do this last step because I accidentally over-heated my oven to start with, so my schnitzels were already crispy (and overcooked) – but still plenty delicious, according to Harvey, the arbiter of all-things food-related. I know I can do better next time, now that I’m on a first-name basis with my finicky new oven. Life is trial and error, after all.

Plate the schnitzel with some lemon wedges and a side of mashed potatoes, rice, couscous or pasta, and you’ve got yourself a winner. Like they say, “Winner, winner, schnitzel dinner.”

I’m not a particularly intuitive cook, so I need the guidance of a seasoned cook to help me pair different spices with chicken, beef or fish. Left to my own devices, everything would be seasoned with salt, pepper and lemon juice, maybe a pinch of paprika. Until a couple of years ago, I’d never even used cumin, coriander or smoked paprika. But retirement, a big kitchen and lots of time on my hands has turned me into an inquisitive and relatively decent cook and baker (relatively being the operative word). I even bake challah buns when I have a few extra hours on my hands.

This is a revelation that Harvey is still attempting to wrap his head around. All he has to do is say the word cookie, and I’ve donned my apron and turned on the oven! I’m the culinary equivalent of Pavlov’s dog. I’ve been on a roll for the last couple of months, so my freezer is jammed to the hilt with cookies, muffins and soups. I’m like a Jewish survivalist. A family of four could live off my freezer for weeks, easy. No guns allowed.

My next culinary adventure might just be lamb kofta kebabs or maybe sheet pan kebab laffa. It’s like someone cast a spell on me and turned me into a fearless kitchen warrior. Six months ago, I’d never even heard the words laffa or kofta. Now, I’m throwing them around like I was born in the Middle East! Until recently, I thought laffa was something you scrub yourself with in the shower, and Benylin was something you take for a kofta. But, thanks to YouTube, Instagram and Pinterest, I have expanded my culinary vocabulary – and skills. The flip side is that I seriously must look into a 12-step program for social media addiction. You know you’re in trouble when you carry your smartphone or tablet into the bathroom with you, so that you don’t miss anything while, you know. Classic case of FOMO.

That being said, where would I be without these resources? I’d probably be eating Kraft Dinner and tuna noodle casserole. Alone. In the dark. While I’m definitely a slave to my e-devices, I do have to acknowledge their major role in my Accidental Balabusta journey. And, for that I am grateful. So is Harvey. Until next time. B’teavon.

Shelley Civkin, aka the Accidental Balabusta, is a happily retired librarian and communications officer. For 17 years, she wrote a weekly book review column for the Richmond Review. She’s currently a freelance writer and volunteer.

Story of Israel’s north

Kiryat Shmona musician Ben Golan will perform at the Yom Ha’atzmaut celebrations in Vancouver April 21. (photo from Ben Golan)

“Music for me is a way to say: we are still here, still alive, still building a future. It gives people a place to feel, and also the strength to keep going,” said Ben Golan, who will headline our local celebration of Israel’s 78th Independence Day, on April 21.

Golan is a musician and producer from Kiryat Shmona, a city in our community’s partnership region, the Upper Galilee, in Israel. He is the founder of the initiative Patifon.

“For 17 years,” he said, “I’ve been producing music and running a recording studio in the city. Over time, I realized that my work isn’t just about producing songs. It’s about building something that can sustain a real musical community in the north, giving a stage to local creators and creating a movement that feels connected to this place.”

Patifon, which means record player or turntable in Hebrew, serves as a hub for local artists.

“It all started simply, with jam sessions in the studio,” explained Golan. “People began coming to play, sing, meet and connect. Slowly, it grew, until the gatherings were too big for the studio to handle. There wasn’t enough space, but there was a hunger for music. Then, thanks to the youth centre and the amazing Elad Kozikaro, who gave us a budget and the perfect space, we got a shelter, which, in times like these, is a valuable commodity in the north. We moved in, completely renovated it and turned it into the most beautiful music lounge; a place where you can come and feel at home, even if it’s your first time there.”

The lounge morphed into Patifon.

“We started filming live sessions of artists and bands there, with proper sound and respect for the music,” Golan said. “All the sessions were uploaded to YouTube under Patifon and, over time, it started to catch on and reach more and more people. Suddenly, what began as a small local gathering became a stage watched by people outside the north.

“As the audience grew and we realized this needed more breathing room, we opened a community pub. Students from Tel-Hai College volunteer there as part of a scholarship program and help keep the place alive and running.”

For Golan, Kiryat Shmona is not just where he was born and grew up. He calls the city and the Upper Galilee his “inner language.”

“In this city, I learned what the rhythm of a community really is: people who know each other, who will always help you when you need something. There’s a different kind of air here,” he said.

“I have a stream right by my house. It seeped into my music without me even intending it to – a mix of rough and tender, of truth and esthetics, of wanting to shout and needing a moment of quiet to breathe,” he explained. “The nature here, the open space and the distance from the centre taught me how to really listen – not to the noise, but to what lies underneath it.

“Continuing to create in the north, especially after Oct. 7, is not a romantic choice for me – it’s a stance,” he said. “The region went through a real upheaval: fear, evacuation, uncertainty and, also, a kind of pain that people who don’t live here sometimes don’t fully understand. Out of all of that, creativity becomes a tool for connection and healing.”

Golan chose to stay in Kiryat Shmona out of a sense of mission.

“I believe the periphery holds immense talent, real hunger and stories you can’t fake – it just needs infrastructure, a home and support,” he said. “I want the young people and artists here to feel that they don’t have to leave in order to become something. On the contrary – that this place itself can become a source of inspiration, an opportunity and a creative centre that generates culture rather than just consumes it.”

Coming to Vancouver for Yom Ha’atzmaut, Golan said he brings messages of resilience and hope – and he takes those words seriously.

“Independence, for me, is also the ability to choose to create despite the difficulty, to choose community, to choose light,” he said. “I want to bring the story of the north: people who continue to build, to organize events, to create music and to hold each other up even when reality is complicated. In my music, there is room for both joy and pain, because both are part of our lives – especially in this time.”

On April 21, Vancouver band HaOptziot will also take the stage at the community celebrations, playing covers of various Israeli hits.

For tickets ($36/adult, $12/youth, $75/family pack) to the Yom Ha’atzmaut celebrations, go to jewishvancouver.com/yh2026.

Sheltering in train stations

Another day, another missile alert: Israelis sheltering at the Herbert Samuel Hotel miklat. The writer and his wife take refuge there, but their dog, Max, won’t leave home. (photo by Gil Zohar)

Those who think history doesn’t repeat itself may wish to WhatsApp my 97-year-old mother, Joyce, to discuss how millions of Londoners like herself sheltered in the British capital’s Tube stations during the Blitz and later in the Second World War. The Luftwaffe bombings traumatized her and her two younger sisters, Anita and Renee. Today, the same “rain” of terror is falling across Tel Aviv, Haifa and Jerusalem.

In Tel Aviv and in the neighbouring cities of Ramat Gan and Bnei Brak, nine underground stops on the Red Line of the Light Rail are open 24/7 as public bomb shelters, including on Shabbat, when there is no transportation service. Some denizens of Greater Tel Aviv have taken to sleeping on the station platforms overnight rather than returning home after each all-clear alert.

At the time of writing, the Red Line is not operating. Commuters from Jerusalem to central Israel have been temporarily required to change trains at Ben Gurion Airport before continuing to Tel Aviv.

Not surprisingly in a country where kvetching is the national sport, some people have complained that not all the underground stations have been opened to serve as protected spaces. The Ministry of Transportation has published a list of stations deemed safe, which the frantic hordes may freely enter when the missile alert screams.

The Carlebach station – named after Esriel Gotthelf Carlebach (1908-1956), the Leipzig, Germany-born pioneering journalist, founding editor of the daily Maariv, and cousin of Berlin-born troubadour Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach – has not been opened, as it is not considered suitable as a secure shelter for engineering reasons.

In the eternal capital of the Jewish people, Yerushalmis are also taking cover underground. While all the stops on Jerusalem’s single tram line are on the surface, the Navon Train Station – which is 90 metres below street level and was designed to function as a nuclear bomb shelter – is now serving its secondary purpose apart from transportation.

Home Front Command (HFC) and Ministry of Defence officials have praised the Israeli public for its resilience in quickly reaching a safe place to shelter when the siren goes off.

Israel updated its national building code in 1992 following the Gulf War the previous year, when Saddam Hussein rained Scud missiles down on Tel Aviv and Haifa from Iraq. Previously, zoning laws had required condominium apartment buildings to incorporate a basement bomb shelter, but the threat of heavier-than-air poison gas attacks made those shelters potential death traps. Thus, gas masks were distributed, and every apartment in new residential buildings is now required to have a reinforced and sealed security room, called a mamad in Hebrew. Typically, these are a bedroom protected with extra thick concrete and equipped with a steel door and heavy shutters. A wet towel placed by the door makes for a reasonably airtight seal. Some newer buildings have been designed so that the area around the elevator shaft and stairs serves as a protected miklat (shelter) for the entire floor. It’s a uniquely Israeli way of getting to know one’s neighbours.

The number of fatalities has been miraculously low in the night-and-day barrages from Iran and Lebanon since the current war started on Feb. 28. At press time, 28 people – including two soldiers – had been killed in the hundreds of missile and drone attacks targeting civilian regions in the Jewish state. More than 400 ballistic missiles had been launched. No information has been released on the number of drones fired.

Nine Israelis were killed and more than 40 injured in Beit Shemesh on March 1 when an Iranian missile hit a residential neighbourhood, destroying a synagogue and collapsing the adjoining bomb shelter. The shelter was in a pre-1991 building that had been retrofitted.

A Thai agricultural worker in central Israel and four Palestinian women in a beauty salon in the village of Beit Awwa, southwest of Hebron, were killed on March 18 by debris from an Iranian missile. Barrages employing cluster munitions have hit multiple locations – including near my home in downtown Jerusalem. More than 100 residents in Dimona and Arad were wounded in missile strikes on those two southern cities March 21; most were not in bomb shelters, according to an HFC investigation.

Train service has been interrupted at Tel Aviv’s Savidor station and in Holon, where, as well, several buses were damaged. Military censorship prohibits publishing the addresses of hits.

photo - Max prefers to stay home when the sirens sound — Max prefers to stay home when the sirens sound. *(photo by Gil Zohar)*

On March 15, Israel Railways reopened the train stations in Hod HaSharon-Sokolov, Bnei Brak, Rishon LeZion HaRishonim and Dimona, which had been shut down when the war began. Full service resumed on the lines from Herzliya to Ofakim, and Herzliya to Jerusalem. While the latter stops at Ben Gurion Airport, service at the international air hub remains greatly reduced. Some travelers are choosing to take a bus to Amman, Jordan, or Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt, to fly abroad. The situation remains fluid.

For my wife and me, four overseas guests at our Pesach seder have had to say “Next Year in Jerusalem” because their flights have been canceled. We live in a charming stone building in the city centre, which was built in 1886 and has neither a miklat nor a mamad. When the siren sounds, we head to the Herbert Samuel Hotel across the street. There, the synagogue two floors below ground level doubles as the reinforced space. Last Friday, as the Sabbath approached and the air raid alert rang, a guest was playing the violin, serenading those present with the strains of “Shalom Aleichem.”

And what of our dog Max? The poor mutt refuses to leave his comfort zone – our unprotected apartment. With every second meaning the potential difference between life and death, we leave him to lie on the sofa and howl at the sirens.

Gil Zohar is a journalist and tour guide who lives in Jerusalem.

Teach critical thinking

We are failing in a battle we cannot afford to lose. Canadians and the world are trying, unsuccessfully, to control the spread of misinformation and disinformation at the source, policing online platforms, flagging content and regulating perpetrators.

This “supply-side” approach is fundamentally flawed. Information today moves too fast, too freely and too globally to ever be contained. Controlling what is produced is a losing battle. Our main hope is to vaccinate consumers of information against the pandemic of lies.

In recent issues, the Independent has reported on steps being taken by the provincial and federal governments to police boundaries (for example, provincial legislation that would create “bubble zones” around religious institutions) and strengthening hate crime laws (the federal government’s Bill C-9). These are deeply necessary and well-intentioned steps.

They are also like plugging a collapsing dike.

In the immediate term, we need to police speech that is hateful and potentially violent. In the longer term, we need to educate citizens to differentiate between truth and lies so they are less susceptible to bigoted ideas and misinformation.

B’nai Brith Canada has launched a national digital literacy campaign that is timely and necessary. (Click here for story.) Even this initiative, though, should go further. Digital literacy alone is not enough. Canadians – and people everywhere – require a much broader foundation in critical thinking and media consumption. They need to know not just how to use digital tools, but how to question and critique all manner of information: how to evaluate sources, how to distinguish fact from fiction, commentary from reporting, propaganda from legitimate information.

If individuals are equipped to interrogate what they see – if they instinctively ask, “Who created this? Why? What evidence supports it? What motivations might the creator have beyond informing me?” – then misinformation loses some of its power. It stops spreading, not because it has been removed, but because it has been assessed and rejected by its targets.

Importantly, this is not just about young people, though teaching students these skills early is essential. Misinformation does not discriminate by age, and neither should our response. In many cases, older generations, who did not grow up in a digital environment, are even more susceptible.

The world is experiencing a tsunami of information. Everything – everything – depends on the ability of each of us to navigate these surging waters. If people cannot tell what is real, they cannot make informed decisions or vote responsibly. If they cannot distinguish truth from manipulation, democracy itself erodes.

This is especially relevant right now to Jewish Canadians, who are deeply concerned by surging antisemitism and antizionism. We are wringing our hands over how to successfully confront this crisis. If we can train people to identify misinformation, propaganda and assorted falsehoods and conspiracies, the Jew-hatred problem may not entirely resolve itself. Those steps would, however, almost certainly be the most effective and enduring contemporary response to an ancient and enduring bigotry.

A society that can think critically is a society that is less easily misled. And, in today’s world, that may be the most important skill of all.

Learning to bridge divides

A friend from my grad school, Jill, has a distinguished academic career. She’s now the chair of her university’s religious studies department. She’s co-authored a book on dialogue in education and works with an organization called Essential Partners, which “helps people build relationships across differences to address their communities’ most pressing challenges.” This work shows great promise in helping people listen and learn from one another.

This dialogue-oriented academic approach draws on the Socratic seminar, an ancient learning technique I was taught as a young teacher. It gets students to interact, do analysis and to listen carefully to one another.

I was thrilled that this technique was used in one of my twins’ public school English classes. His regular teacher was on leave and an experienced, retired teacher took over the classes as a long-term sub. As a former English teacher, I watched my Grade 9 student dig into the material. He did prep work to learn how to participate, including writing journal entries and eventually producing a literary analysis essay. The cherry on top was that this whole unit focused on Elie Wiesel’s book Night. The students finally accessed some Holocaust education (mandated by the province but not previously implemented) as part of this rigorous unit.

Then my kid reported that classmates said the sub was “trying to Jewify” them. Later, classmates said he only got high marks because he was Jewish and a teacher’s pet. In a polarized political climate, this teacher did everything right to facilitate safe dialogue and teach important texts. Even so, antisemitism popped up – showing how necessary dialogue like this is for our society at this moment.

Our household likes to discuss and debate. We don’t shy away from difficult topics. I think we succeed at this type of conversation at the dinner table, though we could all benefit from improvement in our listening habits.

When I became a parent, I stepped back from the academic work I used to love. I became a caretaker when we had twins, due to health challenges. I also mostly stopped teaching, due to all the moves necessary for my husband’s work.

To “get back” some of this work, I’ve explored different opportunities in the last year. I spoke on “finding hope,” as part of an ethics, politics and humanity panel at an interfaith conference. I committed to teaching two workshops at Limmud. In another foray, I took advantage of a podcast’s call for entries and applied. This local academic podcast focuses on “peopling the past.” They requested submissions to examine the relevance of the ancient world in understanding contemporary issues.

I wanted to explore how the Babylonian Talmud, in tractates Zevachim and Menachot, examines boundaries, definitions and understandings of “appropriate sacrifice.” I saw fascinating parallels between this ancient discussion and how textbook definitions of words like “apartheid,” “genocide” and “colonization” are being manipulated today. I thought it could make a great case study of how the Talmud recorded hundreds of years of comparison and dialogue between rabbis (scholars) and how that model might be applied to analytic discussion today.

The rabbis disagreed about definitions and details. It was a high stakes conversation for them. Ritual sacrifice in the Temple was a thing of the past, but they felt it essential to understand and record the right way to do this, so the Jewish people would know how to manage if the Temple were rebuilt. Further, if the Temple is never rebuilt, what could we learn from the “right” and holy way to do sacrifice?

Months passed. The deadline for hearing back from the podcast organizers passed. I inquired politely but heard nothing. Then, I did something I should have done in the first place. I researched more about the nearby academic organizing this. I learned this academic was heavily invested in Palestinian activism. Once I read this, I figured I would never even hear back about my proposal. Yet, to my surprise, I got a polite form letter, which (of course) turned down my submission.

My pitch might not have been competitive. I’ve got two master’s degrees but no PhD or university affiliation. The topic maybe was too controversial. Perhaps my write-up was too plainspoken. After sleeping on it, I realized none of that mattered. In fact, I was relieved. After all, considering my family’s challenges in listening more and talking less at the Shabbat table, I wondered if I could have pulled off a podcast conversation with a person so firmly entrenched in an opposing and confrontational viewpoint.

Studying Daf Yomi (a page of Talmud a day) since January 2020 helps me shed light on these career-building experiences. Every day, I read rabbis’ debates, over centuries, that model dialogue and analytic questioning. There are aspects of the Socratic seminar in these texts and the ways in which scholars build relationships and bridge differences to solve their communities’ challenges. Repeatedly, I see this difficult, but meaningful, process play out between rabbis who lived almost 2,000 years ago, in a text compiled a little over 1,500 years ago.

A reflective teacher evaluates what was or wasn’t successful in an assignment or lesson plan. This recent rejection allowed me that reflection. I’d take off points if I assessed myself. First, I failed to do enough research to realize that this podcast, while geographically convenient, wasn’t a good fit for ideological reasons. Second, it helped me examine ways I can grow as a listener and work to create meaningful spaces for respectful, safe dialogue across deep divides. Studying Talmud for a few minutes a day, across six years, gives me even more respect for the role of civilized, rigorous discussion and safe spaces to disagree. Some people aren’t ready to grow this way. They cannot leave space for that intellectual growth. When challenged, they respond with rejection or name calling, as my kid experienced.

Finally, I realized why sometimes academics spend a lot of grant money and time on choosing the “right” professor to travel to their institution. It’s sometimes too uncomfortable to sit in the room with someone who is not an easy match. Still, we might learn more from the dialogue with those more challenging discussion partners. Learning to bridge divides and live together is sometimes the most meaningful work, after all.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for the Winnipeg Free Press and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Supporting Iranian community

Harley Kushmier and his mother, Samantha Kushmier, at the March 8 Car Rally for Iranian Voices. (photo from the Kushmiers)

Members of the Kelowna Jewish community participated in the Car Rally for Iranian Voices on March 8.

photo - Harley Kushmier at the March 1 weekly rally in Kelowna in support of those protesting the Iranian regime — Harley Kushmier at the March 1 weekly rally in Kelowna in support of those protesting the Iranian regime. *(photo from the Kushmiers)*

Every Sunday in downtown Kelowna a protest is held in support of loved ones lost in the Shir-o-Khorshid (Lion and Sun) Revolution – the ongoing anti-regime protests in Iran – and of those who remain detained in Iran, subjected to unspeakable hardship. The protests ask that Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi be recognized as transitional leader of the country.

Rally organizers thanked Israel for its support and help, and asked the local Jewish community to attend the car rally. Organizers also reached out to the local Ukrainian community to join.

Samantha Kushmier and son Harley Kushmier are part of the Okanagan Jewish community.

Art dismantles systems

“I Betrayed Him and the Fate of Becoming Him” by Yongzhen Li is part of Li’s solo exhibit – Structures of the Unsaid – at the Zack Gallery. (photo from Yongzhen Li)

On March 5, the Zack Gallery opened its first solo exhibition by a non-Jewish artist in years. Called Structures of the Unsaid, it presents the work of Yongzhen Li, a recent immigrant from China. By coincidence, it is also Li’s first solo show, and the show’s name reflects the artist’s feelings about his native China’s patriarchal culture and collectivist society.

“The art committee and I asked Li to be part of the Zack Gallery exhibitions over a year ago,” said Sarah Dobbs, the gallery’s curator.

“His talent, the way he handles the surface of the paper and the themes that we felt resonate with the Jewish community were the primary reasons for selecting him for a solo show,” she said. “The way he works – using ink, rice paper and mugwort water, which stains the surface before the image appears – reflects his deep skills as an artist. This was the primary pull for us to exhibit him. In addition, the water residue acts as a form of embodied memory, recalling the imperative to remember – the surface carries what cannot be seen.

“His practice emerges from absence, where the creation of each piece is a gesture of repair within fracture, like a quiet form of tikkun, a concept found in the Zohar,” she explained. “Painting is how he wrestles, remembers and remakes meaning. So, the conceptual nature of his work, combined with his skills, was a no-brainer. The committee and I just immediately voted him yes!”

Li and his wife, Jiamin, came to Canada in 2024, settling in Oshawa, Ont.

“I like the food here – so many Asian groceries,” he said with a smile. “But language is hard for me. It’s always been so, even before we came here. Language has always felt too thin. The words seem to flatten what I feel, while images allow it to remain alive.” That’s why he asked his wife to act as his interpreter during his interview with the Independent.

Li’s road to the arts was not simple.

“My father is a petroleum worker,” he said. “And so was his father before him. It is traditional in China that a son follows his father’s work. It is a good job, with a decent pay, and it was already arranged for me after I graduated, but I didn’t want to do it. I always felt like an outsider in my family. I didn’t want to know my future for the next 50 years. I knew it wouldn’t make me happy. I wanted to do art. I wanted to be free in my choices.”

That was his first rebellion, his first step against the established routine, but not his last.

“I was about 13 at the time…. By Chinese tradition, children of artists who follow their fathers into art start their artistic training at 6. I was already too old, but I needed to do it. Otherwise, I felt that I had nothing of my own. Fortunately, I had a good art teacher at school,” said Li, adding with a grin: “And I became popular with my classmates.”

photo - “Underground World” by Yongzhen Li, whose solo exhibit at Zack Gallery runs to April 13 — “Underground World” by Yongzhen Li, whose solo exhibit at Zack Gallery runs to April 13. *(image from Yongzhen Li)*

His next step upon graduation was the Academy of Fine Art in Xi’an, one of the largest cities in China, with an ancient history and a long artistic tradition. The famous Terracotta Army, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is located just outside the city. The Xi’an academy is considered one of the best art schools in China, but Li didn’t like his time there.

“There was no creative freedom,” he said. “The professors were rigid, wanted me to copy them, to follow their instructions without thinking. It didn’t work for me.”

Once more, Li went against the established mode. He quit the academy and found a job to support himself and his wife. He worked with social media while teaching himself to be an artist.

“People thought I was crazy to quit,” he said. “My parents wouldn’t help financially – they didn’t approve of my actions. Besides, they were getting a divorce. And I was already married – we met at the academy. Jiamin was also a student there.”

When COVID struck, the young couple experienced the restrictions that were placed on people worldwide.

“We became all isolated, had to stay at home,” Li recalled. “But we watched lots on the internet, especially YouTube videos. In China, the world internet is not available – it is illegal there to access YouTube or Google or Facebook. Chinese people have their own limited internet version, allowed by the government, but many young people ignore those restrictions and download apps to watch the real internet. We did too and we learned a lot. We could finally see for ourselves how the world worked. We decided to emigrate to Canada.”

Canada was a revelation to Li. “I’m free here,” he said.

To make ends meet, Li works for a delivery company, but, in his spare time, he continues to paint and learn, and his art evolves. When he lived in China, his themes tended to be narrow, tied to certain events or ideas, but his latest imagery explores more complex issues of identity, memory and resistance.

“Art has become my emotional refuge as well as a method of self-liberation,” he said.

It also allows him to process his inner tension and vulnerability, as he struggles for personal and creative autonomy. His large painting “Underground World,” finished in the past month, is symbolic of his current trend of using traditional Chinese motifs and media to address contemporary and universal topics.

The painting looks like a collage, denoting the artist’s inner journey; many aspects intertwine and contradict one another. Family history versus personal fragility. Government direction versus private uncertainty.

“I am not searching for villains. I am dismantling systems,” Li says in his artist statement. “I refer to structures that appear normal: family control, humiliation disguised as education, and forms of care that carry hidden violence. Tragedy most often happens not through cruelty, but through what is socially justified, well-intentioned and unquestioned.”

As for his life in Canada, Li said, “I’m thinking of taking some art classes here. There is so much choice, so much freedom for an artist.”

Structures of the Unsaid is on display until April 13. To learn more about Li, visit his website, yongzhenli.com.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Beth Tikvah celebrates 50th

The delayed celebration of Beth Tikvah’s 50th anniversary takes place April 19, with a night of comedy headlined by Juno Award-winning comedian Jacob Samuel. (photo from byjacobsamuel.com)

Beth Tikvah, the Conservative synagogue in Richmond, was founded in 1973. That placed the 50th anniversary in 2023, and a celebration was planned for October. Then the catastrophe of 10/7 occurred, and the event was indefinitely postponed.

Now that all the hostages are home and the war that began that day has ended (though a different one continues), the congregation thought it was not just appropriate to come together to celebrate the milestone of their community, but necessary.

A communal celebration – with laughter – is something the community needs, Rabbi Susan Tendler told the Independent.

“People just really need to laugh,” she said, and to find strength in community.

Tendler herself arrived as Beth Tikvah’s spiritual leader at the height of another collective crisis – the COVID pandemic. Her family was greeted warmly, but from a distance, as intense social isolation rules were still in place.

Six years later, she is effusive in her love for her role and her adopted community. Beyond the immediate Beth Tikvah and Richmond communities, she said, the relationship among Metro Vancouver’s rabbis is extremely unusual, with deep ties across denominations. Tendler is currently chair of the Rabbinical Association of Vancouver, the main conduit for that tight union.

Jews at Beth Tikvah, in British Columbia and worldwide are resilient but tired, she said.

“We are fierce and we are resilient, and we are strong and we are agile and we are constant,” she said. “But we all can feel the weariness from it.”

Coming together to celebrate is necessary, she said, noting that Purim this year seemed to unleash a collective wellspring of joy.

The delayed celebration of Beth Tikvah’s 50th anniversary takes place April 19, with a night of comedy featuring Juno Award-winning comedian Jacob Samuel and emcee Kyle Berger, himself a funnyman of some repute.

Berger’s brother, Tadd Berger, is the synagogue’s president, as was older brother Ryan and mother Marilyn before him.

The Bergers were not founding members of the congregation, said Tadd Berger, but they showed up more than four decades ago.

“Beth Tikvah is a special place,” he said. “It’s always been a special place for me. I was bar mitzvahed at Beth Tikvah, I was married at Beth Tikvah. It has always been a centrepoint of my person, of my growth, of my community. A lot of who I am today is a result of opportunities and programs and events and things that I had at Beth Tikvah.”

He called his leadership role at this moment in the history of the shul and the community a responsibility, an honour and a privilege.

While the celebration next month caps a half-century of growth, Berger is looking to the future.

“Our membership has been growing the last several years,” he said. “I think that we will continue to grow. We’ll continue to find more ways to connect with and service and support the larger Jewish community, especially the Richmond Jewish community.”

Beth Tikvah is the only Conservative synagogue south of Fraser River, Berger noted, so he views the shul as serving a larger geographic region, stretching southward.

He is also proud of the range of programs the community delivers, including food security programs and services for youth and seniors, which are open to members and non-members.

“We see ourselves as Richmond’s synagogue and here to support the whole community,” said Berger. “That’s how we want to continue and, [in] the coming 50 years, I hope that that gets us embraced more and more by the community. “

The solemnity of the period since Oct. 7, which occurred just as the world was emerging from the COVID pandemic, means it has been a long time since a festivity of this type has occurred, according to one of the organizers.

“The event is the first big fundraiser we’ve had in a long time,” said Alisa Magnan, who is co-chairing the celebration with Mindy Zimmering. “We’re raising badly needed funds for programs and it’s a great chance to support the community and get together and have some fun.”

Magnan echoes the rabbi in noting that it is time for the community to kick back and have a good time amid the many challenges.

“I wanted to be able to get together and celebrate our community and find some joy after such difficult times,” she said.

In addition to the anticipated guffaws (induced, the PR promises, by “smart, clean humour”), the event will include a 50/50 draw in addition to food stations featuring pasta, barbecue, salads, Mexican cuisine and crêpes for dessert. Tickets and more information for April 19’s Eat, Laugh, Schmooze: A Night of Comedy & Connection are at btikvah.ca.