Cantor Michael Zoosman

New law a desecration

Israeli Minster of National Security Itamar Ben G’vir holds up a champagne bottle in the Knesset on March 30, toasting the passage of Israel’s new death penalty law. (screenshot)

On March 30, two days before erev Passover, Israeli Minister of National Security Itamar Ben-Gvir celebrated the passing of his racist, dangerous, vengeful and unjust death penalty law by raising a champagne bottle and drinking to victory. The customary toast in Jewish tradition, of course, is to exclaim “L’chaim!” (“To life!”) Partly for this reason, the name chosen for the Jewish anti-death penalty group I co-founded, which now includes thousands of members in Israel and abroad, is “L’chaim! Jews Against the Death Penalty.” Those members of the Knesset who support this law have upended the phrase meant to evoke Judaism’s core life-affirming principles.

While Ben-Gvir claims to be a pious and observant Jew, his actions once again reveal his blatant disregard for Jewish values, and an essential mockery of Jewish ritual symbolism. He might as well have screamed “Lamavet” (“To death”) for his celebratory toast. Make no mistake: the passage of this death penalty law will certainly bring death for both convicted terrorists and innocent Israelis and Jews across the world. It is an abomination that will prove disastrous for multiple reasons.

Wine at Passover

One of the most well-known facts about the Passover seder, which both Jews and many non-Jews are keenly aware of, is that it traditionally involves drinking four cups of wine or grape juice. These four cups are a mandatory rabbinic commandment, representing the four expressions of redemption God used in Exodus 6:6-7 to promise freedom to the Israelites. Consumed at specific intervals in the seder, they symbolize freedom, joy, and key stages of liberation, from slavery to becoming a nation.

Perhaps one of the most widely understood reasons for drinking wine on Passover, as on Purim and on any Jewish holiday, is its symbolism of life, joy, sanctification, and transformation used to elevate holy moments like Shabbat, holidays and weddings. It signifies “cheering the heart,” redemption (specifically the four cups at Passover) and divine blessing, while also serving as a reminder of the need for temperance and balance. By lifting a glass for death just ahead of Passover, Ben-Gvir has effectively desecrated this sacred tradition with inverted, grotesque symbolism.

Another tradition of the Passover seder highlights the extent of the sacrilege of Ben-Gvir’s celebration. It is customary for seder-goers to remove 10 drops of wine, one for each of the plagues they chant, symbolizing how the suffering that each affliction produced for our people’s enemies diminishes our joy. This list culminates in the 10th plague of the death of the firstborn of Egypt at the hands of Malakh Hamavet, the Angel of Death. Instead of honouring this Passover ritual, Ben-Gvir profaned it by using wine to glorify killing.

The 10 Plagues

It is most fitting, with Passover only recently having ended, for L’chaim to use the 10 Plagues – with which God cursed the Egyptians in response to Pharaoh’s “hardened heart” – as symbols of the many reasons to oppose the death penalty. We align these biblical maladies with 10 damning strikes against the death penalty to highlight that capital punishment itself is a plague on any society that enacts it. Capital punishment condemns any government that wields it, including Israel now, infinitely more so than any of the individuals it condemns to death.

Dam (Blood): Israel’s death penalty law could increase terrorism, making it more enticing to would-be martyrs (shahids).

Tzifatdeiya (Frogs): It will undoubtedly endanger Jews worldwide.

Kinim (Lice): From Adolf Hitler to Donald Trump, Machiavellian politicians wield the death penalty as a political tool, particularly for election campaigns, and that is the case with this law. Consider the recent examples in Israel of Ben-Gvir’s noose-shaped lapel pin and his video promoting the death penalty law, illicitly filmed at a gallows museum in Jerusalem, as well as Limor Son Har-Melech’s Nazi-inspired Purim costume featuring an injection syringe.

Arov (Wild Animals): Jewish tradition makes the death penalty virtually impossible to carry out. Passage of this law has betrayed the life-affirming core of that tradition.

Dever (Pestilence): Terms like “deterrence,” which is a fallacious delusion when applied to the death penalty, and “retributive” or “proportional” justice, are veils for vengeance. Unequivocally, revenge does not bring closure for murder victims’ loved ones.

Sh’chin (Boils): The death penalty is racist, and this law in particular is viciously discriminatory.

Barad (Hail): The death penalty inherently violates the human right to life. Relatedly, it often results in physical torture, and always is psychological torture, for individuals counting down to their execution day. There is no humane way to execute human beings against their will.

Arbeh (Locusts): Many execution methods are direct Nazi legacies, including firing squad, gassing and lethal injection.

Choshech (Darkness): Capital punishment will traumatize the executioners within the Israel Prison Service. This law also risks placing anyone involved in contravention of human rights treaties.

Makat Bechorot (Death of the Firstborn): The death penalty inevitably risks executing the innocent.

Onward toward repeal

On March 30, the same day that the Knesset passed this barbaric law, a vast coalition of Jewish organizations across Israel and the world immediately petitioned the Israeli Supreme Court to repeal it. The next day, the Supreme Court ordered that the state must respond to the petition and the request for an interim injunction by May 24. The members of L’chaim, together with Jews of good conscience and all of civilized humanity, will continue to do all we can to support this vital, sacred effort.

None other than death penalty abolitionist Elie Wiesel (1928-2016) aptly referred to capital punishment as the “Angel of Death.” It is high time to banish this medieval plague from Israel once and for all. The final uplifting song of the Passover seder is “L’shanah haba’ah b’Yerushalayim” (“Next year in Jerusalem”). It is our consummate hope and intention that next Passover, Jerusalem will see the repeal of this monstrous legislation.

Cantor Michael Zoosman is a certified spiritual care practitioner and received his cantorial ordination from the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. He sits as an advisory committee member at Death Penalty Action and is co-founder of L’chaim! Jews Against the Death Penalty. Zoosman is a former Jewish prison chaplain and psychiatric hospital chaplain. He lives with his family in Vancouver.

Different faiths gather

Presenters at the World Religions Conference, which was held at Star of the Sea Community Hall in White Rock on Nov. 17. Rabbi Arik Labowitz of Or Shalom is second from the right and, to his right, is the writer, Cantor Michael Zoosman (photo by Rizwan Peerzada)

Last month, the Elderly Organization of Ahmadiyya Muslim Ansarullah BC held the World Religions Conference. This annual multifaith event, organized by Ahmadiyya Muslim Jama’at Canada, brings together scholars from the world’s many religions to speak on a common topic from their respective religious traditions.

The Nov. 17 gathering was held at the Star of the Sea Community Hall in White Rock. Jonquil Hallgate, Surrey Interfaith Council chair, served as the moderator for faith leaders Dr. Eilaine McCeary (Baha’i), Rev. Richard Chau (Catholicism), Naeem Ahmed Lakhan (Islam), Sukhvinder Kaur Vinning (Sikhism), Eden Engen (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints), Shrinath Dwivedi (Hindusim) and, representing Judaism, Rabbi Arik Labowitz of Or Shalom and I. It was the second such Ahmadiyya multifaith event in which I have participated, the first occurring when I lived in Greater Washington, DC, years ago.

This year’s theme, “Kindness and Kinship,” focused on recognizing our shared humanity – being of a kind. Speakers shared inspiring variations on this theme, emphasizing that people can be motivated by such recognition to cooperate with and help one another, to treat others as if they were members of their own family, to be generous, loving and thoughtful, and to give as if to kin. Many leaders referenced directly or indirectly the famous Hebrew phrase “v’ahavta l’reiakha kamokha” – “love your neighbour as yourself” – from Leviticus 19:18.

At Rabbi Arik’s suggestion, after he spoke, I concluded the evening by leading a rendition of “Olam Chesed Yibaneh” (“The World is Built with Kindness”), which Rabbi Menachem Creditor wrote in the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks across the United States. Using the eponymous text from Psalms (Tehillim) 89:3 as the refrain, the song adds: “I will build this world from love. And you must build this world from love. And if we build this world from love, then God will build this world from love.” We repeated the chanted melody, with guitar, as a niggun on a neutral syllable, to invite others to join in with us in the universal language of song. During the Indian dinner that followed, many attendees approached us to share how much they had learned and how much they appreciated what we had to share.

Such interfaith collegiality – even “kinship” – occurs frequently among colleagues serving, like I do, in multifaith capacities as spiritual health practitioners (what, in the United States, we called “chaplains”) in hospital, military and prison settings. It is understandably much harder for those on the pulpit, who have the sacred responsibility of attending to the members of their own congregations and communities. This prioritization is why it is so impressive to consider the partnerships that local clergy, including so many of our rabbis, have made in Vancouver over the years. It is my hope and prayer to be able to sing at many such functions in the months and years to come. Only by standing together for the sake of mutual chesed, lovingkindness, can we hope to move forward in peace and fellowship as a thriving, diverse community.

Cantor Michael Zoosman is a certified spiritual care practitioner with the Canadian Association for Spiritual Care and received his cantorial ordination from the Jewish Theological Seminary of America in 2008. He sits as an advisory committee member at Death Penalty Action and is co-founder of L’chaim! Jews Against the Death Penalty. Zoosman is a former Jewish prison chaplain and psychiatric hospital chaplain. Currently, he serves as a spiritual health practitioner (chaplain) for mental health outreach teams, working with individuals in the community living with severe mental health disorders and addiction. He lives with his family in Vancouver.

Shattering city’s rosy views

The horrific car-ramming that killed attendees at the Lapu Lapu Day Festival on April 26 was Vancouver’s baptism by fire into a club into which no city seeks membership. This urban gem of “Beautiful British Columbia,” where one can ski down a mountain, sail in the ocean, cycle along rolling hills and relax on a beach on the same day, now also is home to a mass killing event. Life for Vancouverites will never feel as rosy again – nor should it.

As a Vancouver resident and mental health outreach worker who hails from the United States – where such events have become far too commonplace – I can only hope that this massacre will serve as a wake-up call to the province for the need for more mental health beds in the region. Specifically, I pray that this event will lead to the political will to reopen a reformed Riverview Psychiatric Hospital, which never should have been allowed to close in the first place.

While the exact circumstances of what led the individual charged with committing this murderous act remain under investigation, it is established that he had been a client in the Vancouver mental health system. The current broken state of that system is at least in part the result of the fate of the closing of Riverview, which was the only dedicated psychiatric hospital serving the Greater Vancouver area.

Riverview was understood to be rife with abuses. I experienced something similar while serving as a chaplain resident at Washington, DC’s St. Elizabeth’s Hospital from 2012 to 2013, when it was undergoing a years-long settlement agreement with the US government for mistreatment of patients. Instead of following St. Elizabeth’s successful model of investing in the reformation of a century-old institution, elected officials here chose to capitalize financially and politically on Riverview’s deservedly nefarious reputation. They drew upon the understandable outcry over the violations – as well as the contemporary trend toward deinstitutionalization – to justify closing the hospital altogether in 2012. These excuses offered ample cover for what was at the heart of their motivation to close Riverview: saving taxpayer dollars to become endeared with the voting public.

In the 13 years since that decision, Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside has effectively replaced Riverview as an open-air psychiatric hospital. Rather than living in a protected environment, individuals in the greatest need of mental health support are forced to try to survive amid a fentanyl-laced, drug-laden dystopian metropolis. Members of this extremely vulnerable population succumb every day on the streets and in their homes to fatal overdoses of drugs to which their illnesses make them abundantly susceptible. This is an abomination that cannot stand in a civilized nation the likes of which Canada professes to be. Indeed, British Columbia now is the only Canadian province without an exclusive psychiatric hospital. For a province whose largest city – Vancouver – is a hotbed for the suffering and preventable deaths of human beings living with the dual-diagnosis of mental illness and addiction, this is simply inexcusable.

As Riverview prepared to close, community mental health outreach programs opened, partly in the hope of meeting the needs of clients discharging from that moribund institution. Among those initiatives were new, innovative mental health outreach teams, such as the Assertive Community Treatment (ACT) teams on which I serve as a spiritual health practitioner. Despite the best efforts of dedicated professionals alongside whom I am privileged to work on these teams, Vancouver’s “capital” punishment of its mentally ill persists. As I write these words, I have learned that another young client of ours has perished, the latest victim of a broken system plagued by chronically lacking mental health housing and hospital beds – someone whose life might well have been saved by Riverview.

The rebuilding of Riverview hospital will not guarantee that Vancouver will be spared from another horror the likes of the Lapu Lapu Day attack. It will, however, provide some peace of mind to those of us who work in Vancouver’s mental health system every day that our society is taking every reasonable action to buoy the system intended to help support those who are at heightened risk of endangering themselves or others.

As part of my duties for the ACT teams, I run a weekly spirituality group at the Gathering Place on Seymour and Helmcken streets for clients and staff. Each week, I guide attendees through images, poetry and live music as we explore a universal theme. This week, I was prepared to explore the concept of “springtime,” playing such songs as “La Vie en Rose” by Edith Piaf. Like Vancouver’s rose-coloured veneer in cherry blossom season, that plan, too, was shattered by the Lapu Lapu massacre. Instead, we will be making space for individual and collective mourning for the members of the Filipino community, as well as our fellow client who just passed today, by offering a rendition of “A Tree of Life.” This song by Idina Menzel and Kate Diaz commemorating the victims of the Tree of Life Synagogue shooting in Pittsburgh, Pa., on Oct. 27, 2018, will now be used to help make space for the profound need for grief support across Vancouver.

How many more deaths will it take before we break through the mirage of the rosy-coloured hues of British Columbia’s rainforest paradise? Rather, may we grow our own “Tree of Life” here in the form of a new and improved psychiatric hospital on the Riverview grounds. Former Riverview vice -president and assistant administrator Dr. John Higenbottam adroitly mapped out exactly how to achieve this more than a decade ago in his proposal entitled “Into the Future: The Coquitlam Health Campus – A Vision for the Riverview Lands.” (See rhcs.org/media/Into_the_Future_-_the_Coquitlam_Health_Campus.pdf.)

It is high time his advice was heeded.

A Purim-Ramadan oasis

Members of the local Jewish and Muslim communities who came together in the Downtown Eastside March 16 to commemorate Shushan Purim and Ramadan by giving out food to those in need. (photo from Rabbi Philip Bregman’s Facebook page)

On Sunday, March 16, on the corner of Main and Hastings, members of the local Jewish and Muslim communities converged for a joint commemoration of Shushan Purim (the day after Purim) and the holy month of Ramadan.

Both these sacred occasions call upon their observers to feed those who are food insecure, often through charity. Muslims refer to this as “zakah,” Jews describe it as “tzedakah.” Both words denote righteousness. United in this shared charge on that day, these two Abrahamic religious traditions met at ground zero of Greater Vancouver’s mental health, addiction and housing crisis to nourish some of the residents of the Downtown Eastside. This was assuredly a “righteous” act for all participants, inspiring renewed hope for our troubled world.

The gathering was mainly the initiative of Vancouver-Granville Member of Parliament Taleeb Noormohamed, a few religious leaders of the Vancouver Muslim community and rabbis Dan Moskovitz, Philip Bregman, Jonathan Infeld and Arik Labowitz. In a social media post describing the event, Rabbi Bregman wrote: “We may not be able to solve the world’s political issues but we can come together to deal with in a small way a local issue (feeding the hungry) that affects us all.”

It was my great honour to be a part of this group as an ordained cantor and member of the Vancouver Jewish community. My day job often places me at this street corner, serving a similar clientele. I work as a multifaith chaplain on Vancouver Coastal Health’s ACT (Assertive Community Treatment) teams, providing spiritual care to clients and staff as they navigate the existential angst, cumulative grief and moral distress that accompanies the city’s overdose crisis. Many days bring me to the same area to help provide spiritual comfort and solace through presence and song. The task often is daunting. (On the day that I wrote these words, our ACT team lost another longtime client to a preventable overdose death at the age of 29.) Standing alongside my Jewish siblings and Muslim cousins and handing out food that our respective communities had prepared and purchased brought a whole new level of hope.

I particularly needed the spiritual uplift that Sunday, which, like so many Sundays before, again witnessed my Jewish community’s impassioned rallies, calling for the release of all the remaining hostages – those alive and dead – who were taken to Gaza during the barbaric Oct. 7 pogrom that waged war against Israel’s right to exist.

I also needed the spiritual uplift that day because March 16 marked the date when 23-year-old American Jewish nonviolent human rights activist Rachel Corrie (April 10, 1979-March 16, 2003) was crushed to death by an Israeli bulldozer as she protested the demolition of Palestinian homes in Gaza. This horrific anniversary led me to spend that early morning reflecting once again on how to reconcile my abiding love of Israel with my vehement disagreement with those Israeli and American governmental policies that have violated human rights, killed innocent children and civilians and threatened ethnic cleansing.

As if to emphasize the point, earlier that same morning, I had breakfast with a Jewish friend with whom I had engaged in a book club to discuss Peter Beinart’s latest treatise, Being Jewish After the Destruction of Gaza: A Reckoning. Another Conservative cantor I know well and respect recently challenged me to open myself to voices I would not otherwise have considered regarding world affairs. I took that charge to heart and decided to read Beinart’s latest work, which I would not have been likely to peruse previously. Like the death of Corrie, reflecting on this book over breakfast proved sobering, as I continue to realize the many blind spots in my own thinking over the years.

While my mind and spirit were still reeling from navigating these concurrent realities, the Purim-Ramadan event provided me with a palpable spiritual uplift, as I witnessed Jews and Muslims standing in unity side by side with wide smiles, handing out nourishment to those deprived of food.

The spiritual boost also came from meeting devout Muslims in their bountiful humanity.

There was Aroun, who shared with some Jewish attendees and I how members of his mosque (Al-Jamia Al-Masjid) often come downtown to provide food to the poor on Ramadan. Aroun had us all in stitches when he jokingly indicated how hard it was to handle so many edibles while observing Ramadan’s required daytime fasting. In the same breath, he reminded us that though there are indeed extremists on both sides of the aisle, events like the present one proved that we do not have to toe their party line.

I likewise will never forget talking with another Muslim participant, Mohammed Zaid, to whom I explained the traditional duties of a cantor as a chanter of prayer. Mohammed responded by offering to demonstrate his own chanting of Quranic verses in Arabic, one of five languages that he speaks. I listened to his mellifluous voice echo the similar Middle Eastern musical modes that I employ when leading synagogue services. In his prayer, I heard words such as “Rahman,” an Arabic cognate for the Hebrew “Rachaman,” meaning Merciful One, and, of course “salaam,” which I knew as “shalom.” His singing reminded me of my late friend Imam Sohaib Sultan, z”l, who was a fellow classmate in my first chaplaincy training class years ago, and with whom I traded our traditions’ sacred melodies.

Our spirits were raised even during the traditionally dreaded cleanup time, as we together refolded the tables we had brought, and shlepped them into vans. My friend Ben Lubinizki and I shot the breeze with young Muslim men while we waited to gain access to the trash and recycling room. At that moment, I felt inspired to pull out my recent Purim costume’s toque, on which was boldly sprawled the phrase: “Canada is not for sale.” In response to this gesture, my Muslim cousins laughed and cheered me on in solidarity. Here was another front on which we were united.

As we said our chag sameachs, Ramadan mubaraks and salaam/shaloms, I realized that a key to interfaith dialogue – even on the most fraught issues – can occur through shared life-affirming experiences such as this one.

The memory of that Sunday morning gathering gives me hope that our mutual striving for lovingkindness can overcome all else. As Rabbi Moskovitz reflected on the occasion, two divided communities had aligned “to feed the hungry and also to collaboratively feed our soul’s hunger for shared humanity.”

May we never forget these universal lessons for our time, lessons brought to us from a very real temporary oasis, built on the most infamous intersection in the poorest postal code in Canada. If humanity can achieve this here, of all places, we can do so in Israel, Gaza and the world.

Cantor Michael Zoosman is a board-certified chaplain with the Canadian Association for Spiritual Care. He serves as a spiritual health practitioner for the Assertive Community Treatment teams of Vancouver Coastal Health, working with individuals in the community living with severe mental health disorders and addiction. He sits as an advisory committee member at Death Penalty Action and is the co-founder of L’chaim! Jews Against the Death Penalty. He served as cantor of Congregation Beth Israel 2008-2012.